Years of brutal training and harsh lessons learned through long periods of suffering. Then one day, the man who’d become my father had told me I’d finished my lessons in obedience, becoming the warrior he’d intended.
Now everything I’d worked long and hard to achieve was being threatened. That wasn’t going to continue.
I reached for my phone, scrolling to the one number I hoped I’d never have to call.
Sadly, there was no other choice.
Then I grabbed one of the burner phones I’d had altered. I kept several in my possession. This was the reason why. If Ivan had been turned against me, the call would be traced. With a little technical support, that was no longer possible. I dialed the number, taking a deep breath.
“I’ve been compromised. I need support.”
The voicemail was without a voice, the silence as to be expected.
The Russian Bratva were also extremely careful, the number to be used only in the case of emergency. There was no doubt that’s exactly what I was facing.
I tossed the phone, lifting my glass once again. A toast to the man I’d called my father, his brutal murder something that would forever haunt me.
I gazed at the class I’d grown fond of, taking a deep breath when I allowed my heated look to fall on Chloe. There seemed to be no difference in her actions that I’d been able to detect. At least she appeared unharmed from the incident the night before. While I’d allowed the fuckers to live, even hoping they would report to whoever they were working for that I refused to play their game, I remained on edge.
I’d noticed a car parked a half block away from the house, the single person inside drawing my attention. I was being watched, whoever the person or entity responsible biding their time. I would be ready, handling the situation as I’d been taught.
“Kogda my zkanchivayem god…” I said in my native language, waiting to see if I’d gathered their attention, “pomni eto.” As we end the year, remember this. I tried to think of the perfect Russian proverb. Although Maxim had insisted on a higher education, providing needed funds, I’d never considered myself a philosopher. That wasn’t in my brutal nature. “Ktoh ni riskuyet tot ni pyot shampanskava.”
“He who doesn’t take risks doesn’t drink champagne.”
I shifted my gaze in Chloe’s direction, both surprised and stimulated by her immediate translation.
“Excellent. At least I’ve taught you something this year,” I continued, offering a smile. “Enjoy the summer.” I took a deep breath, immediately turning my attention to closing up for the year. I stared down at my bruised hand, enjoying the remaining ache. I’d been forced to realize during the sleepless night that I would always be Bratva. I would always react in the required method of violence. The miles and years hadn’t taken the savage from his lair.
I paid little attention as the students filed out of the room, the sounds of their delightful squeals at the last class of the semester meaning little to me. When I heard a lone set of footsteps, I bristled, taking several deep breaths.
“Hi,” Chloe said quietly. She stood in front of my desk, her gaze falling to my bruised hand.
She had no idea what kind of risk she was taking even talking to me. There were obviously eyes everywhere. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. There wasn’t any trouble.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Forget it happened. Go about your business.”
“Who are you?” Her question was filled with a crazy kind of wonderment, as if she really wanted to know.
“I’m your professor and nothing more.”
“I think you turned into my hero.”
A laugh jutted to the surface. I gazed at her long and hard, finally shaking my head. “It’s best you forget about me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s necessary, Chloe.” She inched closer, her defiance forcing my cock to twitch, my balls tightening. “I need to know why.”
While the last thing that I wanted to do was terrify her, it had become obvious doing so was necessary. “Because there are some very bad people out there, Chloe, the kind that don’t take no for an answer. They don’t give a shit who you are or if you beg for mercy, they will do what’s necessary in order to continue their mission. Do you understand me?”
“Are you that kind of man? Are you a bad man?”
I thought about her question, my longing only increasing with every passing second. I grabbed my briefcase then inched closer. As her intoxicating scent rushed into my