Page 14 of Bound Wings
"Of me, baby?" Something vulnerable flickers behind his eyes when he asks it.
I look away.
"Maybe. I don't know. I'm scared of what you do. The world you live in. What it'll turn me into."
"You'd flourish in my world." His hand stills on my back. "And you never have to be scared. You are the single most protected woman alive."
I shake my head, and even while my mouth is pressed to his chest, the words that come out are harder than I mean them. "I think we need a break. To think."
"No breaks." His voice drops flat, final.
"What is it you actually do, Slava? Drug lord? Assassin?"
He chuckles low in his throat. "I'm the pakhan of New York's Bratva."
Bratva.
Bratva.
He's a Russian mobster.
I try to fling myself out of his arms and he doesn't budge an inch. "I think you need to leave."
"Oh, we're both leaving." His mouth curves. "The Bratva's been dying to meet their new pakhanessa."
What. The. Fuck.
What has my life become?
"Oh, no, buddy. That's not me."
"It's you."
"Nuh-uh."
He stands, taking me with him, both of us dripping onto the tile, and I watch, mouth hanging open, as he towels me dry, dresses me in a bra and panties of his own choosing, then walks straight to my closet and just stands there.
"What. Are. You. Doing?"
"Choosing your outfit."
"It's two a.m. I'm not going anywhere, especially not with a Russian mob boss."
He hums like I haven't spoken and pulls out a loose black cotton dress anyway.
"Listen to me." I swat his hands away as he puts the dress on me. "I am not going anywhere with you."
His mouth twists into a snarl. "Suit yourself."
He pulls a length of red silk from his pocket, and I bolt, but he has me caught in under a second, wrists pinned gently but firmly behind my back, wrapped and tied.
"I didn't want to do it this way, baby. You didn't leave me a choice."
"Fuck. You."
The rest of my curses die in the noise of the hairdryer as he dries my hair one-handed, completely unbothered. I keep cursing anyway. Doesn't matter if he hears it.
Then he simply picks me up and carries me to a car idling outside, and we drive for what feels like hours. I fight sleep the entire way, alternating between begging him to let me go and testing the silk at my wrists for any give at all. There isn't any. He hums along to the radio like he's the happiest man alive, practically vibrating with excitement.
