But if I'm honest with myself, he's not my type. He's too brash and forward. The man doesn't give a lick about my opinion, only himself.

  "You want a date? I can find one of my colleagues to set you up with," Nikita says. "Tell me a little about yourself."

  He can't be serious. My jaw just hit the floor because he folds his arms across his chest, tilts his head, and waits for my answer.

  "I don't need your help."

  "I never implied that you did." He doesn't so much as glance away. He holds my stare. "But sometimes wanting and needing are two different things. I'm sure you can find your own date if you wander downstairs into the club. But I'm offering myself up to help."

  "You're a matchmaking service?"

  "I've been known to dabble, but no, I don't run that type of business. However, you seem like an intelligent girl who is cute and has a lot going for her. Any number of men I'm familiar with might be interested."

  "I'm not some girl you can hoe out! Just because I'm not interested in marriage, doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with someone because they have a dick."

  "Your suggestion implies payment. I'm not doing this for money. Besides, I feel that my colleagues aren't up to the challenge."

  "Challenge?"

  What the hell is he talking about?

  "Five minutes, and you'd tear them to pieces."

  "That's not true or fair! You don't know anything about me."

  "You're impulsive," Nikita says. "You followed me up here without question. You're abrasive, bold, and brutally honest. At least that's what you think you are and the mask you portray. Is it real? I haven't been around you long enough to know for certain. I can see that you've been hurt before, or maybe you've witnessed someone close to you getting burned, and that's formed your opinion of men."

  I purse my lips and glance toward the door. How much longer until my clothes are ready? I should have borrowed his shirt and worn it over the top of my white dress. "You're wrong."

  "Which part?" Nikita asks. He doesn't even look disappointed that I disagree with his observation of me.

  "All of it." I stand, although I'm not sure where I'm going. Wandering down into the club in only a shirt is not the best option. And Nikita hasn't made me feel violated or the least bit uncomfortable, other than his scrutiny as he tries to unravel who I am.

  He has no idea.

  And if he did, he'd kick my ass out of his club.

  Or worse.

  I sway from the liquor that I've consumed. I'm a lightweight. I rarely drink, and the reality of the situation that I'm buzzed and alone with a man I don't know anything about makes my stomach flop.

  Nikita stands and steps toward me, his arms coming up to steady me. His grip rests on my shoulders.

  "Sit," he commands.

  I fall back onto the sofa, not the least bit graceful as I sway and the room spins.

  "You don't drink often." It's not a question but an observation.

  "I also don't usually follow men I've just met into strange places."

  Nikita shoves his hand into his pocket, unceremoniously drops his keys, and then sets his phone on his desk. Shuffling to the sofa, he sits beside me but leaves plenty of space between us not to make me the slightest bit uncomfortable. He quirks a grin. "You're funny."

  "I try my best," I quip, trying not to glance at his desk where his keys are situated. I need to grab his house key. I don't even need to steal the key. Just make an imprint of it in the small clay box tucked inside my purse.

  He won't even know it's missing.

  "Are you going to give me your byline?"

  "My what?" I ask.

  "Your elevator pitch. What makes you so great that men should date you."

  I don't know anything about Nikita other than he runs the club downstairs. What makes him think I want him to set me up with someone he knows?

  "I can find my dates, thanks."

  "Really? Because a blind date implies—"

  "Shut up!" I snap. "You don't know anything about me."

  "Exactly! And how am I supposed to help you—you know what, never mind. It's not worth the hassle."

  Good! Maybe he will finally let it go. Why does he feel it necessary to try to play matchmaker with me?

  "Can we just pretend this conversation never happened?" I ask.

  "It would be my pleasure," Nikita says. He stretches out, taking up more space than necessary on the sofa.

  How much longer until my dress is finished at the laundromat?

  "You don't have to babysit me."

  "So, you've said." Nikita shifts and faces me on the sofa. His legs brush against mine. His eyes remain locked on me.

  I ignore the warmth and heat, the spark that simmers in the small office space. It's the fact that I've had liquor, and I don't usually drink. He's a handsome man, but his affections for me are non-existent.

  I open my mouth to speak but my voice quivers. "I want to go home," I say. Will he let me walk out and leave without pressing charges? I haven't taken anything or done any damage.

  Nikita's hand glides down to my neck, and he grabs a fistful of my hair. "You are home, Malish," he whispers into my ear.

  "What?" I gasp and attempt to break free, but his grip only tightens.

  "Is that not what you wanted? You stole the key to my house."

  My mouth is dry. I didn't think he realized that I'd snatched it off his keyring when we'd been interrupted in his office.

  He'd been gone no more than two minutes, and while I had fumbled to get the key off the ring, by the time I'd had it within my possession, I hadn't been able to return it without being seen.

  "I didn't steal your stupid key. If I had, do you think I'd have climbed over the fence and gotten caught?"

  FOUR

  Nikita

  Lucy is feisty, and the fire behind those dark green eyes stirs a flame that's been tamed inside me. She insists that she didn't steal the key to the compound, my house.

  "I don't believe you," I seethe and push her back against the mattress. My hands trap hers above her head.

  "Well, I don't care." She sneers up at me, but her pupils are dark, and her breathing deepens.

  I swear I can smell her scent, and I want to rip her clothes off and fuck her.

  But I'm a gentleman.

  Okay, I'm not a monster. I'd never force myself onto her. And by the time I'm done, she'll beg for me to fuck her tight little pussy.

  "You didn't just waltz into the bar, knocking into me by coincidence." I should have seen it last night and not been so damn naïve to think that a pretty girl might need help.

  Shame on me for believing her little act.

  There's only one way to know that she doesn't have my key.

  My left hand remains clamped on her wrist, binding her hands together. I guide my palm over and across her breasts with my right hand, ensuring that she doesn't have a wire tucked away or my key hidden beneath her clothes.

  "Get off me, you pervert!" she shouts, but her body betrays her desires.

  She wants me. Lucy's breathing deepens, and her breaths come out raspy and thick. Her eyelids grow heavy as I tease and caress her clothed skin.

  I chuckle, not the least bit offended by her remark. Leaning down, my lips brush against her ear. "I could order a strip search," I say. "Bring in other men to tear off your clothes and make sure you're not hiding that key or anything else under that dress."

  "You're a pig!"

  Is that all she's got? Insults to throw at me.

  She bites down on her bottom lip as I caress her hip, and she emits a soft sigh. Her eyes tighten, and I see the inward struggle. Lucy doesn’t want to give in, but she will, all in due time.

  "Spread your legs," I command.

  "You're a fucking animal!"

  "Luka! Dmitri!" I call for additional reinforcements.

  I have no intention of hurting Lucy or forcing her to have sex. If she has fears, I will bring two other men to witness what I intend to do for her benefit.

  Her breathing catches in her throat. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

  She struggles against my grip, her body bucking against the mattress, trying to break free, but I'm no match for her.

  There's panic in her breathing. Her eyes are wide and her color ghastly. I swear if she goes into anaphylaxis again, I'll put her into the back seat of my vehicle and drive her to Steele Medical Concierge myself.

  Heavy footsteps hurry to the bedroom and thrust open the door.

  I glance over my shoulder at Luka. "What do you need?" he asks.

  He's at my side and glances at the two of us as I have her pinned down on the mattress.

  "Let me go!" Lucy shrieks and attempts to wiggle out of my grasp.

  Hasn't she realized that the only one who has the power to let her go is me?

  "I want you here to witness that I'm not going to fucking touch her."

  "You're already touching me," Lucy snarls. "Get off me." She leans up to bite me.

  I guide my hand under her hips in one swoop and spin her around, shoving her chest into the mattress while I pin her down. She can't bite me if she's not facing me.

  "She's a handful," Luka says. He folds his arms across his chest and watches. He doesn't help Lucy. She's not a guest in the compound. She's a prisoner and a thief. Although I can't prove her thievery yet, I will before the night is done.

  "Tell me something I don't already know," I mutter.

  Luka watches, offering no assistance as I keep her pinned against the mattress and let my hands wander over her dress, across her bra straps, and down over her ass.

  Her breathing hitches in her throat. My touch is firm but not harsh. I could rip the clothes right off her, and if I don't find what I'm looking for soon, I might just have to do that.

  "Are you done?" She wiggles against me.

  Fuck.

  My cock hardens at her ministrations, and I swear my head is high above the clouds. She's a fucking temptress.

  She smells of vanilla and lavender. It's intoxicating, not to mention the heat filling the room.

  "Enough!" I growl into her ear. If she's not trying to arouse me, then I need to get my dick in check.

  Besides, I don't need Luka noticing when I climb off her pert little ass that I'm sprouting a hard-on for our prisoner.

  That's all she is, a prisoner. She's a traitor, though I've yet to decipher whom she's working for and what her agenda is.

  My hand palms under her skirt, making sure the key isn't tucked into her panties. She's soaked through the flimsy fabric, dripping for me, and her breath catches in her throat.

  I remove my hand.

  I want to rip her panties off and let my fingers glide her lips apart, touch her, tease her, and listen to her moans as I fill her with my digits.

  But I won't take advantage of her.

  Lucy has to beg me to fuck her. And even then, I'm not sure that I'd allow myself the pleasure of watching her come undone. She's here because she jumped the fence, not on an invitation.

  There must be consequences for her actions. And if it's up to Mikhail, those penalties will be harsh and severe.

  Lucy is delicate. I'm not sure she's up to what an ordinary prisoner would endure. The torture, humiliation, and vile nature of being forced to confess and obey. Most of the detainees we take are men, enemies to the bratva, loyal to the Italian Mafia or the Colombian Cartel.

  Where do Lucy's loyalties lie?

  It's certainly not with the bratva.

  I'm pretty certain that she's not harboring a weapon or my missing key, which strikes me as odd. How did she plan to get into the compound? Was she going to waltz her way in through the front door?

  "Where's the key?" I flip her over and climb off her body. I need to know without a doubt that she hasn't stashed the key.

  She huffs and ignores me while fixing her dress.

  Does she believe the silent treatment is going to save her?

  "Answer me!" I snarl. It must be on her.

  Lucy shivers and points her foot at me, resting her shoe on my thigh.

  I overlooked her shoes. I remove her black shoes. They're thick and heavy, clunky with a two-inch thick heal.

  Flipping the shoe over, the sole has thick threads and a slight outline in the center. I pop open the hidden compartment, and inside is a silver metallic object, hidden from plain view.

  The key.

  I retrieve the key to the compound, snap her shoe compartment shut and drop the shoe onto the mattress.

  I wanted to be wrong.

  With my left hand folded around the key, I yank Lucy's arm and lift her from the bed, dragging her out of the bedroom.

  "Where are you taking me?" Her breathing hitches. Her green eyes are wide, and her voice quivers with fear. "I'm sorry. I gave it back. Can I please leave?"

  Grumbling under my breath, I'm rough as I escort her out into the hallway and down the stairs.

  Luka is right behind me. He hasn't said a word. He's taking it all in, and I half-expect him to chastise me for trusting her.

  But I've seen my errors, and I'm trying to make amends. I will be in Mikhail's debt for letting the girl slip onto the property and have possession of the compound's key to the front door.

  The locks will have to be changed, and I will be questioned after interrogating Lucy if I’m lucky enough to conduct the entire interrogation. Any number of Mikhail's men might intercede because I'm too close to Lucy.

  I can't let my doubts cloud my judgment.

  Lucy is the enemy.

  She's not just a cute girl I met at the club. She set me up and betrayed me. I don't forgive easily, especially when it involves loyalty and trust. I don't like being duped and made to look like a fool.

  I grip her arm and drag her down through the main corridor. Luka opens the door to the prison basement and flips on the light while I escort her down the stone staircase.

  "Where are you taking me?" Lucy squirms in my grasp, attempting to break free, but my hold is too tight for her to run. "You can't do this!"

  "You did this. Your imprisonment is entirely your doing," I say. We reach the bottom of the stairs. The floor is concrete, and the air is chilly.

  Luka unlocks one of the metal cages, a prison cell, and I shove Lucy inside.

  "Please, don't do this!" she shrieks and spins around, but I slam the door shut before she can escape.

  The metal bars keep her confined to the cell. Her fingers grip the metal, wrapping around the bars. She can't break free, even if she tries.

  "Please," her voice falters, and she might cry.

  "You should have thought about that before you decided to steal the key and trespass. Are you going to tell us what you're after?"

  Does she intend to kill Mikhail? She doesn't strike me as an assassin, but she could be playing the innocent victim. However, I didn't find a weapon of any kind hidden on her.

  Luka clears his throat and nods for me to follow him upstairs to talk in private.

  I back away from the cell. She's not going anywhere, not while locked inside the cage.

  "Wait!" Lucy shrieks. Her eyes are wide, and her breathing increases, louder. Adrenaline courses through her veins. She's afraid, but I'm not sure if it's from her confinement or something else that has her concerned.

  I don't indulge her. Instead, I follow Luka up the stone stairwell and out of sight.

  Lucy is left alone. There is no way for her to escape, and the prison cell isn't exactly classy. There's not so much as a cot. It's bare.

  We don't keep prisoners long. We interrogate and kill them after we get the information that we require.

  I shut the door to the prison, making sure that Lucy can't overhear our conversation. I fold my arms across my chest. "What'd you want to discuss?" I ask. Coming upstairs hadn't been my idea. I wanted to get to the bottom of business and learn what Lucy knows.

  "You should talk to Mikhail."

  "Why?" I ask. He is already aware that we've taken Lucy as a prisoner and that she trespassed onto his property. Is there other information he has that I'm unaware of regarding Lucy?

  Luka's gaze doesn't flinch, and I get the impression that asking Luka isn't going to help my cause. "Right," I mutter and head down the hallway. I glance back at Luka over my shoulder. "No one else interrogates the prisoner but me!" I don't want anyone else getting close to Lucy.

  She's mine.

  Mikhail is in his office, and I offer a firm knock as I enter. He's sitting behind his desk, his attention drawn toward his laptop.

  "You wanted to see me, sir?" I ask.

  "Come in, close the door, would you?"

  I shut the door behind myself and sit across from him on the black leather chair opposite his desk. "The girl is detained downstairs," I say, reassuring him that his family is safe.

  "Anton mentioned that she was the girl from the club last night."

  Nothing gets by Mikhail. "Yes, I spilled her drink on her dress last night."

  He smirks all too knowingly. "Which I'm sure she planned. Is she the one responsible for your missing key?"

  "Yes, she had the key in her possession." I retrieve it from my pants pocket, showing it to Mikhail.

  "I'm having the entire compound rekeyed and additional locks put onto the main doors for added security."

  I don't bother to ask if that's necessary. Mikhail is in charge. What he says goes. "And what about the fence?" That was where she'd gained entry. Lucy had been brought into the compound because I carried her inside after the incident. But her appearance on the property had been a surprise.

  "I will be hiring contractors to change the fencing and secure the property. The cost will be coming out of your pay."

  My mouth is dry. It's not wise to argue with the Pakhan. "Of course, sir." At least I live under his roof. The additional money is quite generous but not a necessity for survival. I've done well to save enough funds that losing a paycheck or two would not be catastrophic.

  "Anton will be running background on any debts she may have and if she's recently taken any funds from any illicit sources."

  "Do you suspect the cartel?"

  Lucy is working with someone. I'm just not sure whom she's helping or why. I didn't notice a ring on her finger, but that doesn't mean she's not already spoken for. She could be married to one of the cartel's members, or the mafia. However, I've never seen her before last night.

 

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