Mrs. Yugov greets me when I enter the house with a tense smile pressed to her lips.
“You’re back,” she says, relief evident in her eyes. She reaches for my jacket as I slip out of it and takes my purse with it, hanging both in the small closet beside the door.
“Thanks, I’ll take that to my room. Is everything all right?” I ask when she reaches for my computer bag.
“Of course.” She looks over her shoulder. “Sergei is home. He’s been looking for you.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek. I declined three calls from him this afternoon. A man like him probably isn’t used to being sent to voicemail.
“Were you able to get done what you wanted to get done?” she asks, peeking over her shoulder.
I’m not usually a breakfast fan, but Mrs. Yugov had made me a plate before I even came downstairs. It smelled too good to pass up. When she tried to coax me into staying home, I explained how much better I concentrate with the busy sounds of the coffee shop around me.
“Not as much as I wanted,” I sigh. There’s not an overabundant job market right now for inexperienced administrative assistants. The three months I worked at the realtor’s office isn’t getting me in any more doors even for an interview.
I spent the afternoon looking for cheap administrative assistant online classes that might help me get a better paying job quickly. Unfortunately, even the cheapest classes are too expensive when you have nothing in the bank.
If the police officer had showed up again, and I had been able to get more information for Sergei—even better.
But I wasn’t able to even settle into my usual table before I got a call from Mom’s facility.
The last two hours have drained me. I’m in no mood to fight with Sergei, and the text I received from him earlier expressed his annoyance that I didn’t stay tethered to his house while he was away for the day.
“He’s in his office,” she warns. “That hall there, the third door on the left.”
I nod.
“So, avoid that, got it.” I give her a thumbs up.
She chuckles. “He’ll find you no matter where you hide. He’s a persistent man when he wants something.”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“Then not to worry. He doesn’t actually want me, he just needs…” I let the words die. I’m not sure if it’s all right for anyone to know that our marriage is to be on paper only. And for only a short period. Mrs. Yugov has been with him for years and years, and can be trusted, but it may not be something he wants known.
“I’m going to go upstairs. I promise I’ll deal with him in a little bit.” I sling my bag over my shoulder.
“No. You’ll deal with him now.” Sergei’s unmistakable voice precedes him. A breath later, he steps around the corner, a sour expression already forming on his face.
“Sergei, I didn’t realize you were right there.”
“Of course not.” He turns his stare onto Mrs. Yugov.
“I’ll go get dinner started.” She hurries away, pausing only a moment near him and muttering something in Russian.
His face tightens for a second but then he gives her a soft nod, before she heads to the kitchen.
“Don’t be mad at her,” I say.
“I’m not. She’s not the one who left this morning when she was told not to.”
“That’s not really a fair statement. You didn’t say I had to stay here today. That was last night.” There’s a gray area somewhere, and that’s where I live. In that little spot of not complying but not outright rebelling either.
“Come with me,” he says, turning on his highly polished heel and walking off. I debate for a split second not going with him, but realize he’d probably just drag me with him, and I don’t need to make a scene.
He leads me through the first floor down the hall Mrs. Yugov had directed me to his office. After pushing the door open, he steps aside and gestures for me to enter.
Once he joins me, he shuts the door and flips the lock on the handle.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to be disturbed,” he says, reaching for my computer bag. I swing my shoulder away, out of his reach.
“I can hold it.”
His eyebrow darts up. “Hold it?”
“I mean you don’t need to take it.”
He grabs me by the shoulders, spins me until he can reach the bag and easily takes it from me.
“I’m not keeping it.” He puts it down on a table near the door. “Should I look inside? Will I find something you don’t want me to see?”
“It’s just my computer and a notebook.” I raise my chin.
“You went somewhere with your computer, why?” he asks.
“I wanted to work on my resume and apply for some jobs.”
“You’re looking for a job? You work at the country club still, right?” he questions.
“How did you know about that?”
“I saw you there. Months ago.”
“Ohmigod, that was you,” I whisper. My insides tingle at the flicker of a memory.
I had seen him. My boss had been going off on me for something and a man in a dark suit with a severe expression walked nearby. Jason had noticed him and straightened up, forced himself to smile, and hurried off.
It was Sergei. When I’d seen him in that news article, he’d looked so damn familiar. But I wasn’t sure, and I’d thought it silly to even consider that he’d be at that club. Even sillier that he’d take an interest in what was happening between a server and the boss.
“Yes. Did your boss do something? Is that why you are looking for a new job?”
“It’s not a permanent job. I’m on the call list. So, if they’re short, they call me in. I was working at a real estate office for a few months, but I got let go last week.” It’s not helpful to have your main phone operator have to keep leaving work to run across town to help calm her mother down whenever a doctor showed up unexpectedly in her room.
Sergei’s jaw ticks.
“You have no job then.” I can give him some credit; he’s trying to have patience. “Is that what you’re telling me? That’s why you needed the money so badly?”
“I don’t have one right now, but I will. I just need to send out more resumes. Get some more experience. Then I’ll be able to get a job and keep a job. I mean, once I’m able to take care of a few things.” I take a small breath. “And I work best at the coffee house, so I went there. Because I need to find a job. Soon.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, and if I’m not seeing things, I think he’s muttering to himself.
Finally, he opens them.
“We’ll talk about the job situation later.” He points a long finger at me. “I told you to stay here.”
“Well, I needed to go out,” I say firmly. “Look, this arrangement is only going to last a month or so, right?”
“I don’t know how long this will take.” He lifts a shoulder like he’s untroubled by the idea that he could be legally tied to me for longer than he wants. Or I want.
I shake off his nonchalant attitude.
“Well, there’s no reason for it to completely disrupt my life or yours. I don’t see why we even need to see each other.” Yes. Good. These are good arguments.
“You don’t?” His expression hardens. Maybe only one of us is seeing the logic in my words right now.
“No. I mean if it wasn’t for my apartment flooding, I wouldn’t even be here, right?” My tongue thickens as his stare darkens. “And last night, I mean, that was just, well, it shouldn’t have happened.”
If his eyebrow rises any more, it might disappear in his hair. His thick, lush hair.
“There are problems with what you’re saying.” He advances toward me, holding up a finger. “One, I already told you, you were moving in with me. You convinced yourself that you wouldn’t be, but you were wrong.” He lifts another finger. “And two, even if this arrangement is for a short time, everything about it will be very real. You will wear my ring, carry my name, and will be my wife in every way that matters.”
“You want me to change my name for a month? That’s crazy. I’m not doing that.” I retreat a step and then another when he moves toward me.
“It will take time for the legal matters I need resolved to be completed. It might take more than a month.”
“How long?” It’s not like I really have a choice at this point.
“I don’t know,” he deadpans.
“So, for who knows how long, I have to put my life on hold? What if I want to date someone?”
“Date someone?” The words shake from the raw grate of his voice.
“I just mean, this isn’t going to be forever, and it’s not real, and I’m not getting any younger. If someone asks me out…” My voice gives out as he takes one last step, and I’m pinned against the wall.
He lowers his face to within a breath of mine. The musky scent of his aftershave sends a tingle down my spine. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, like he’s fighting the urge to grab me, to hurt me. No, not hurt.
He’s dangerous. My brain knows it, but I can’t help also knowing he wouldn’t hurt me. He’s a contradiction. There’s a soft edge to his fierceness that can’t be explained.
“If a man asks you out, I will rip his tongue from his mouth.” Everything in the delivery of this statement screams that he’s telling me the truth.
“Sergei,” I squeak out his name.
“If a man touches you, I will take his hand. If a man dares speak your name out of turn, I will have his vocal cords. Do I make myself clear, Coraline? Do you understand what it means to be mine?”
My throat is too dry to let any sound past, so I nod. A pathetic little movement.
“Say the words, Coraline. Tell me you understand that once you speak your vows, you are mine completely, no matter how long or how short a time. Tell me.” He presses his forearm to the wall just above my head.
I swallow.
“I understand, Sergei,” I finally manage to say. My eyes are trapped in his stare.
His free hand comes to my cheek. He cups my face, running his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling it slightly.
“What do you understand? Tell me.” His voice lowers.
I can barely think with him this close, and now he’s touching me, breaking my brain.
“When we’re married, I’m yours. In every way,” I whisper.
“Yes.” He nods, moving his hand from my cheek to my chin, pushing it up until my mouth tilts up to meet his. “That’s a good girl,” he says against my lips.
And I melt.
I move my hands to his chest, thinking to break the kiss before things get out of hand again. I can’t repeat last night. It was wrong to let him touch me like that.
But when my palms touch him, his heartbeat comes through, and I find myself leaning into him. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue past my lips, and I curl my hands around the lapels of his jacket.
“Cora.” He brushes his nose against me as he softly mutters my name.
“Yes, Sergei?” I breathe in a long breath. My heart slams into my ribs again and again. He’s still holding me against the wall. He brushes his mouth against mine again.
“You’ve earned another punishment.”
“A punishment?” I choke on the words.
“Yes.” His hand glides from my chin to my hip, effortlessly flipping me around so my chest is pressed into the wall. One hand sinks up into my hair, fisting it at the roots while the other works the buttons on my jeans.
“Sergei. I didn’t… wait…” I try to shove off the wall, to get away, but he tugs harder on my hair.
“No waiting, Coraline.” He shoves my jeans down, past my hips, then further still until they are at my feet. His mouth is pressed to my ear in the next second.
“Do you know what I think? I think you purposely disobeyed. I think you wanted to feel the sting of my hand against your ass again.” He grips my ass cheek hard, lifting it up until I have to rise on my toes in order to stay with him.
“No.” I wiggle, but I’m not going anywhere, and we both know it. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Sergei!”
He slaps my ass, then grabs hold of the elastic on my panties and yanks them up until the material bunches and sinks between my cheeks. Harder, he pulls them up until again I’m on my toes and gasping at the discomfort.
He kisses my cheek, a tender peck that in any other circumstance could be seen as sweet.
“You did, Coraline. I told you not to leave, and you left. Where did you go?” he asks. “Did you go back to your apartment?”
“I told you, the coffee shop,” I answer, sure he’ll stop this insanity if he understands I was just trying to get some work done.
“Why?”
“To look for work!” I yell when his fists tighten. My scalp burns. But worse, arousal pools between my legs. I clench my eyes closed. Trying to fight how his manhandling makes me feel is almost impossible. But I have to. I can’t let this man get to me so damn easily.
“Hmm, anything else?” His nose runs over the shell of my ear. “Were you trying to meet with the police officer?” he accuses in a silky tone. “Did you want to tell him you’ve managed to get into my bed?”
Realization hits me, knocking me for a loop momentarily.
He thinks I’m trying to get information for the police.
“No! Of course not!” I shove against the wall again, but his massive body against me has no give.
“You weren’t hoping to see him there then?” His question is leading me to think he can see into my mind.
“I already told you. I go there when I need to work, Sergei. The same table every time. You can ask the baristas. I went there to work on my resume. When I was in school, I went there to study.”
“That’s not answering my question.” Fingernails dig into my flesh, and I hiss at the new sting.
“Fine! I did hope that maybe he’d stop in and that I’d overhear him again, yes.” He seems to already know what I was thinking to do, so there’s no point in denying it.
He steps between my ankles, pressing down on my jeans.
“Step out,” he orders, letting go of my panties that are still wedged between my cheeks, and gentles his grip on my hair.
I work my right foot out, losing my shoe in the process, then wiggle my left out as well.
“Come this way.” He yanks me from the wall and walks me to his desk. When we get to the front of it, he pushes the desk accessories away. Paper clips spill onto the floor, the pens roll off the desk.
“Sergei, I told you the truth.”
He shoves me over the side of the desk until my cheek is pressed into the cool wood surface.
“I believe you,” he says, grabbing my panties and pulling them down, out of my cheeks and then shoves them to my feet. “Stay,” he orders and lets go of my hair to retrieve the panties.
“I was only hoping to get information for you.” Because then I’d have more to barter with, but I’m sure he’ll come to that conclusion on his own.
“I told you to stay here, not to go out and play detective. What do you think will happen if he finds out you’re trying to get information from him for me? About my family?” He cups my ass.
“How would he find out? I’m just sitting there with coffee!” I regret my exasperated tone when his hand lands hard against my ass.
“We’ll talk more later.” He lays into me with his hand, peppering smacks without sparing a spot. My body reacts the same as yesterday. At first, I’m pulled in tight like a spring as the pain begins to register, but then slowly, I ease into it, melting into the heat that his hand brings.
After a dozen, maybe more, swats, he stops abruptly and slides his hand between my thighs.
“Fuck, Cora. You’re soaked.” I think he’s trying to accuse me of something, but he sounds so damn pleased about it, I’m not sure.
His fingers find my clit and slowly roll clockwise with the perfect pressure. I don’t even try to stop the moan that falls from my lips. I arch my back, lifting my ass up to him and spread my legs just a little bit more.
A beat later, his hand is gone, and my hair is being pulled again. My scalp screams at the new burn as he yanks me up from the desk.
I’m spun around to face him, and his mouth captures mine in a possessive kiss. Wanting more, I lean into him, trying to take control, but I should know better. His hands grasp my waist and in the next second I’m lifted off my feet and planted on the desk.
His eyes line up with mine and the hunger I see there makes my own desire for him rip through any concerns I have about letting this man get under my skin.
He works the buckle of his belt open and rips the strip of leather from his pants, all while keeping his dark eyes fixated on mine.
“Hold this.” He pushes the leather into my palm. “Do not let go,” he orders in such a raw voice, it sounds as though it’s ripping his throat to say it.
I nod and wrap my hand around the warm leather.
“Tell me again, you understand that you’re mine.” He shoves his pants down far enough for his cock to spring free. I feel it pressed against my thigh and when I glance down, I suck in a breath.
He grabs my face with both hands, pulling my attention back to him.
“Tell me, Coraline. You understand that you’re mine.” His voice is as close to violence as a tone can get.
I swallow.
“Yes, Sergei. I understand. I’m yours now.” I nod.
He grabs my hips, yanking them to the edge of the desk where he lines the fat head of his cock against my wet entrance.
I fall back onto my elbows with the jerking movement, but my gaze never leaves his. The slight burn of my ass returns when he cups my cheeks, lifting me up and a new wave of arousal rolls through me.
He mutters something in Russian before he thrusts forward, fully embedding himself inside.
I cry out from the sudden burst of pain it causes. It’s been too long since I’ve been with a man. It feels every bit like it’s my first time, but he claims my lips, steals my scream as though it feeds his desire.
He pulls back then plows forward again.
“Sergei!” I yell his name, but the pain lends way to more desire, more craving, more… I just want more. I’ve never wanted anything like I want him to go harder.
Over and over, he thrusts into me. I push the heels of my feet into the desk, trying to get enough purchase to push up into him. It’s a frenzy, trying to claim him while he’s completely consuming me.
I’m in a complete haze of arousal as he continues to fuck me.
“Cora.” He growls my name as he wraps one arm around my waist and holds me while fucking me even harder. I’m rendered senseless; all I want is the next thrust.
His hand wraps around my throat and he pushes me back to the desk until my back is flat. With his free hand, he brushes his thumb over my clit.
I cry out.
Yes!
More of that.
All of that!
He continues to rub my clit, and just like last night, my body unravels for him. The coil is getting tighter and tighter in my core. I’m going to explode.
“Sergei,” I whine his name, like I need something from him but I don’t know what it is. I have no sense of my own thinking, only that there is a void that needs to be filled.
Letting go of my throat, he yanks my shirt up and pulls the cup of my bra down until my breast falls free.
“Be my good girl, Coraline. Come for me.” His voice alone could seduce me.
He pinches my nipple and tugs.
A white light flashes, and I’m gone. My body writhes beneath him as a mind-blowing orgasm rips through me. My throat burns from my cries, until the sounds dissipate.
Only when the waves ebb into subtle rolls of arousal and my muscles soften does he let go of my breast. He grabs my hips, pulling me toward him again, and he plows harder and harder into me.
I reach up to his face, stroking his cheek. He grabs my wrist and brings it to his mouth. He licks my wrist, then kisses my palm.
“Fuck!” He drops my hand and plows into me once more, stilling over me as his release takes over. His eyes gloss, then close.
Long moments pass before he opens his eyes, and when they meet mine, my stomach flips.
“Now, Coraline, your punishment can begin.” He grabs the belt from my hand, and in the next moment I’m flipped over on the desk and his belt is lashing my bare ass.
Pain.
White-hot, blinding pain registers and I scramble, trying to get away, but he’s got me pinned again with one hand on my back.
“No! It hurts! Sergei!” I grab the edge of the desk and try to pull myself to safety, but he keeps me right where he wants me.
“Without your arousal to help you hide from your punishment, you’ll learn better this way. You’ll remember this and you won’t disobey again.” He brings the leather strap down hard on the tops of my thighs.
I scream, but it does no good.
No one is coming.
He’s not going to stop.
I give in.
“I won’t. I promise.” I would give him any words he wants if he would stop this torment. The haze of my orgasm is ripped away and in its place is this dark cloud of pain.
“You won’t what?”
“I won’t disobey! I promise.”
The lashing stops.
His belt lands with a jangle on the desk beside me.
“Good.” With gentle hands, he helps me off the desk and turns me to face him. He wipes away the tears that appeared somewhere during the spanking and kisses my cheeks.
“I didn’t like that.” I state the obvious.
An arrogant grin crosses his lips. “I did.”
I roll my eyes then try to grab my panties from the desk where he put them, but he snatches them before I can.
“You can put your jeans back on, but the panties are mine.” He tucks them into his pocket and zips up his pants.
I stare at him. He’s lost his mind.
“Be happy I’m not making you walk up to our room bare assed.” He walks over to where my jeans were left in a heap and brings them to me. “Next time I have to remove your pants to discipline you, they stay where I put them.”
I work the jeans so they are right side out and shove my legs into them. The denim feels like sandpaper against my ass when I drag them over my hips.
“You have a real thing about things staying where you put them, huh?” I wipe my face.
He grunts.
“You learn quick.” He checks his watch.
“If you won’t let me go out, will you at least be civil enough to let my friend come here?” I haven’t told Krista all that’s been going on yet. She’s going to think I’ve lost my mind.
And who’s to say she’d be wrong.
“Have whoever you want over,” he agrees while buckling his belt.
“Is it going to be like this the whole time we’re married? You keep me locked up in this place?” It’s not the worst prison. Everything is more luxurious here, but it is still a cage.
“No.” He doesn’t expand on anything, which only makes me wonder what exactly it will be like married to him.
Fake or not, I’m sure he has expectations. His family will, too.
“Are you afraid I’ll change my mind and won’t go through with it?” I let loose a little laugh.
His eyebrows rise. Uncertainty flashes in his dark eyes, but he masks it quickly.
“Because that’s not going to happen,” I’m quick to assure him. Not unless I win the lottery in the next twelve hours. And seeing as he won’t let me out of here to buy a ticket, I’d say my chances are pretty small.
“Until a business deal is done, it’s best to keep all interested parties close,” he says, but it feels like bullshit. The man makes a lot of deals, and I have serious doubts he locks any of them up in his mansion while waiting for the money to drop into the overseas bank accounts.
“Well, it will be done tomorrow, right?” I try to sound positive, like this is just a small thing. Getting married to a mafia boss—happens all the time, I’m sure.
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
He cradles my face in his hand and kisses me. A soft, warm kiss that I could easily lose myself in, but he pulls away abruptly. His brow wrinkles, like he’s not sure why he did what he did.
He taps my nose and turns on his heel.
I clench my jaw and lean back on his desk, then jump away. My ass still burns.
And now my cheeks do too.