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As I savored my coffee, my mind kept drifting back to her again. It wasn’t just her beauty that held my attention; it was her audacious and fearless nature that piqued my curiosity. A single misstep could lead to disaster, yet the thrill of the pursuit was impossible to resist.
I checked my watch again, frustration rising in my throat.
What the fuck is she doing?
I had explicitly instructed Dasha to help Sofiya get ready for our busy day, emphasizing that being late was not an option. My time was fucking precious, and this secondary gig as a babysitter was not only getting on my fucking nerves but also fuelling a desire for something more, something I knew would eventually bite me in the ass.
But I figured it’d be twistedly amusing to give Sofiya a glimpse into the world her old man lived in. I had some unfinished business in the city, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone: pay a visit to Marina and drop our little munchkin off at the Silas wing. Let her see the dirty business we were into, crush those naive dreams of her sweet and loving papa miraculously coming back from the dead to rescue her.
In my twisted way, I was doing the girl a favor.
The sooner she learned about Igor’s world, the better for that innocent little heart and soul of hers.
As they finally appeared at the top of the stairs, anger flared in my chest and churned in my stomach. I didn’t even bother to glance at Dasha; my complete focus was fixed on someone else, or more accurately, something else.
What. The. Fuck.
My eyes traveled from her feet, confined in leather thigh-high boots, to her long, smooth, tanned legs encased in sheer tights, and her hips covered by a short, long-sleeved, low V-neck ruffled black dress that subtly revealed her décolletage.
I continued my visual analysis, letting my eyes wander up her long neck, where tiny beauty marks were scattered like a map, and finally to her full, soft pink lips and long, silky dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail.
Her tits, which would perfectly fit in my hands, drew my attention again. Fuck, all I wanted to do was to drop my head in there, lick and bite her soft tanned skin and suffocate until I would fall into oblivion.
Our eyes met like magnets, and I saw fire in her eyes before she looked down and crossed her arms, hiding her chest.
A surge of desire took over my thoughts. I tried to play it cool, but my heart raced, and my palms got sweaty. I knew I had to be careful not to do something I’d fucking regret.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to think of something else, anything to distract myself from her beauty. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that had been ignited inside of me.
She’s too fucking gorgeous.
“I said we were going to the whorehouse,” I spat at Dasha, my eyes fixed on Sofiya. “Not to dress her like one.”
It was a low blow, I know, but I had to punish her for making my life hell.
Sofiya bit her lip and clenched her fists, probably holding back insults. Her stormy eyes met mine, and realizing my intent to provoke, she grabbed the black fur coat from Dasha and headed to the door.
She learns fast. Good.
As she reached for the doorknob, I called out, “Oh, and don’t bother trying to seduce the guards. They might be desperate for a quick fuck, but even they aren’t dumb enough to help you escape.”
She turned, shot me a deadly look, and stormed out.
I turned to Dasha, who was frowning. “I don’t know why you’re always so mean to her, Volk,” she said. “She’s innocent in all of this.”
I put my coat on, lit a cigarette, and looked at her, annoyed.
She stood frozen, staring at the floor, her hands shaking. “Marina wants to see you,” she added.
I snorted. “Since when are you friends with Marina?”
She raised her head. “I am not.”
I exhaled smoke and raised an eyebrow.
Marina’s desperation for my attention knew no bounds. I didn’t even know how she knew Dasha was back in Russia, but I wasn’t surprised. She was like a little mouse, hiding in dark places, sniffing around for gossip and secrets.
Despite all my recent threats, she kept slipping away, daring me to catch her again. She would have been the perfect KGB agent; snitching was her favorite thing in the world.
