AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My room is cool and shadowed after the chaos outside. A heavy stillness envelopes us, broken only by the rasping of my breath and my almost silent footfalls on the plush carpet underfoot as I pace. The thick air feels charged with tension, ready to spark.
It’s just me and her.
There is no doubt in my mind that her father was dirty. There is no other reasonable explanation for his death. It is clear that Theo Avants was selling information to my rivals. When they got wind of the fact that I had him captured, they took him out and attacked my mansion before I could make him speak. Before he could tell me who he was working for. Only an idiot couldn’t figure that out. And I am going to find the bastards who did this and gut them like pigs.
Motherfuckers will pay.
But the biggest motherfucker of them all is still none other than Theo Avants, of course. One of the longest-serving associates of my organisation. He’s been with us since my father’s time. And then, he decided to betray me and sell me out to my rivals. That led to his death.
As for his daughter, I’m at a loss. She’s staring up at me with wide eyes, tied to a black leather chair in the center of my room - Tiana. Her dark curls spill over the chair back, her breathing shallow. Even bound, she’s the picture of defiance. Her chin lifted, eyes flashing with a fire that refuses to be smothered.
Fuck it, she’s worth every damn penny I spent on her.
“Let me go! Why are you doing this to me? Why!?” The words hang between us, an accusation, a plea, a demand, I can’t tell which. Nor do I care.
“Quiet,” I growl, unable to help the way my eyes rake over her, taking in every curve, every line of her slender body. Tying her to that chair had unsettled me. Her fierce struggles as I’d shoved her into it. Then, the way she’d kicked and flailed as I’d bound her wrists behind the chair with my belt before tying her ankles to the chair legs with a couple of neckties I’d snatched from the closet. Now she’s helpless. Her chest is thrust forward, knees spread as she squirms and fights to free herself.
Blyad.
She’s fucking beautiful.
There’s no use in her struggling, though. I know exactly how to subdue a woman in this way. It’s probably why my balls are tightening as I watch her buck her hips, her lovely features twisted as she strains against her bonds. It was a good thing that I didn’t linger after I’d tied her… With all the tension that built up in me during the attack, I might not have left her untouched, might not have made it back to Dima and the others.
Of course, you would have, pizda!
I’m no slave to my needs. Control is wired into me. Still, she makes a pretty picture. Perhaps we can relive this scene once this bullshit is over. Now I have other matters to deal with.
I have to find out if she’s somehow involved in her father’s dealings.
I have to find out if she’s hiding something.
She is the daughter of that bastard Theo, after all.
“Untie me! Now!” she screams again.
Ignoring her, I turn away, images flashing behind my eyelids as I run through the images once more. Gunfire erupting around us; Theo Avants’ body crumpling to the ground, his blood staining the fine grain of my study’s hardwood floor. Rage had consumed me at the audacity of our attackers… along with a strangely urgent need to get Tiana out of harm’s way.
We were lucky - my men are well-trained. They put down the assailants with practiced efficiency, leaving only the echo of gunshots and the stench of blood hanging in the air. But luck has no place in my world. It was supposed to be impenetrable, my home, my fortress. Yet those fuckers found a way to surprise us, bold as brass, bullets flying.
Pizdets!
“Kirill!” she yells again.
Despite what just went down, her fire almost makes me want to grin. But I also sense the undercurrent of fear in her, even though her jaw’s still out. I know she’s in shock from what happened, though I don’t really care. If anything, it works for my advantage. I know my silence is also unnerving her, much more than if I’d been yelling and threatening her. That also suits me. It will make her more malleable when I start questioning her. Torture is ultimately a mental game.
Torture?
You think you could ever torture her, dolboyob?
“Kirill!” Her voice is strident. I am not sure at what point she started thinking it’s acceptable to call me by my name, but I decide to let it slip. I think I like her saying it. It is strange to hear it, though. Everyone I know either calls me Mr. Vyronov, boss, or pakhan. Only my closest allies and family members are allowed to use the name my mother gave me.
“I said quiet!” I snap again, the memory of the attack still thundering through my head. I’m running through every minute of it, committing details to memory, even as the taste of iron and adrenaline remain bitter on my tongue. She flinches slightly at my tone, and her body goes stiff. But those damned eyes never waver from me as she glares. I wish she would look away. She’s distracting me. The fire and the defiance in her are making my cock hard.
My hands clench into fists, the urge to touch her battles against the need to remain unyielding. I’m here to get answers from her in whatever way I need to, and there’s no getting around it.
The Bratva does not forgive weakness.
Neither do I.
