wondered how he did this to me. Moments ago, I imagined gouging his eyes out and now I was weak in the knees for him.
His lips formed a perfect sculpted bow, and then he kissed me on the spot right below the cut from last night, fingertips kneading my flesh at the same time.
Heat pooled, racing to my cheeks and far, far lower.
When Arkady pulled away, I almost collapsed against the counter.
“Get dressed, dragotsennaya printsessa.”
I scurried past him to the bedroom, unsure of what was going on or what was happening to my body. I only knew his presence was dangerous to me.
I hastily dressed in the same outfit from last night, wishing for clean clothes at the very least. I unwound the towel from my hair. Clean clothes and a brush would feel like a luxury at the moment.
As if reading my mind, he passed me a heavy, silver-backed brush that had to be an antique.
Teasing out snarled strands and twisted knots until my hair began crackling dry, I sighed with the slightest, most mundane pleasure.
The air between Arkady and me crackled too.
He pulled on a suit jacket after checking his gun and I saw him rolling up the strange lash-like weapon he’d secured me with last night.
“Come. We’re going out.”
I balked instantly. “Where?”
His approach predatory, he clasped the side of my neck.
His fingers lightly brushed against my skin, and he held me in his thrall as he pulled me closer and closer. My nipples brushed achingly against his chest, a traitorous shiver running through my body. When only a lick of space separated our mouths, the white sliver of his smile appeared.
“Exactly where you wanted to go last night.”
“The Cat and the Sickle? Are you crazy? Why?”
“You are not in a position to question me.”
I swallowed a gasp when he brought his lips even closer, a breath from tasting me. A dart of forbidden lust made me quake.
“And you will behave,” he issued his final warning.
I’d never stepped foot inside The Cat and the Sickle before.
If only I’d made it here last night, I might’ve been able to carry out my mission.
An idiotic idea at best. We drove into the compound through a gate guarded by towers where soldiers wielded assault rifles. Barbed wire, security systems, more guns, more soldiers . . . my plan would never have been possible.
I’d have been shot on the spot, interrogated, or beaten.
Probably all three.
It made me furious to think Arkady stumbling upon me had actually been a blessing in disguise instead of bad luck.
He stopped the SUV in a loading bay where a big shiny box truck was parked bearing the logo O’Sullivan~Zolotov Deliveries.
My mind still spun over Joanna’s revelations. She had to be the Irish one, the O’Sullivan paired with the Bratva’s name.
A sick knot in my stomach threatened to churn up the food I’d eaten earlier. Truth I didn’t want to admit had stared me right in the face.
How could I have been so wrong about my own brother?
Bas had never been violent in front of me, never demeaning toward me.
He played by the same rules as all the mob men as far as I knew—a world where women had a specific place, but not one dominated by such ugly impulses as rape and what boiled down to human trafficking at its core.
Arkady helped me from the vehicle, but I quickly drew my hand back from his. His merest touch lingered too deeply, and I didn’t know who to trust anymore.
Could I even trust myself?
Guided by him, I walked down a corridor and into the club, which was closed since it was only midday. He greeted only specific soldiers—the ones who might hold similar ranks to a capo in the Cosa Nostra.
We moved through a room dominated by high tables, a raised dancefloor, and a massive black lacquer bar, and I didn’t want to admit I was impressed by all I saw.
I knew my way around real estate, and it was easy to see based on appearances alone why The Sickle would be an excellent and lucrative money-laundering front to any organization.
I hated these men.
Every surface was polished to a high sheen shiny enough to throw off reflections, and only the finest liquor lined the mirrored wall behind the bar.
Arkady marched me up a set of black glass stairs before pressing his index finger against a panel beside a door.
The portal opened, and he prodded me inside.
Again, the entirety of the Bratva bigwigs surrounded me, along with so much