Red Trade - Crime world nickname for human sex trafficking.
Pakhan - the head of a Russian bratva.
Obshchak - the second in command of a Russian bratva.
Vor - a high-ranking role in a Russian bratva, often involving intelligence or enforcement.
Eejit - Scottish slang for idiot.
Chapter Twenty
Sophie…
Three weeks later…
Ever since Mom and I fled to Europe after Jordan and my dad were killed, I’ve always tempered the happiness of good fortune with the nagging feeling that it wouldn’t last.
Maybe it was Mom’s anxious smile, or my dead brother’s sarcastic reminders, but I’ve always danced on the edge, never quite daring to relax. I piled up perfect grades and top test scores, always trying to stack the deck in our favor as if I could halt disaster by being the strongest student, the hardest worker, the devoted daughter. The good girl.
It's been twenty-one perfect days with Michael, and the edge feels closer than ever before. It’s all too good.
Michael’s chilly distance seems to be slowly melting into a warmth I knew he was capable of, but only ever saw with his family. We eat together every night, Davina has reluctantly given me authority over the kitchen, for dinner at least.
And there’s the sex.
If you had told me that it was possible to pass out from coming too hard, I’d ask the name of the author who was writing that kind of unrealistic smut. Apparently, it is not reserved just for dark romance.
Last night, Michael tied me face down on the fluffy rug in front of the fireplace in the great room, my hands bound to the coffee table and my legs spread. He shoved a pillow under my hips, pulled me up on my knees and licked me until I cried. Circling my passage with his tongue and fingers, wrapping his lips around my clitoris and pulling just harder than was pleasurable. A cruel, endless round of nips and tugs and licking until I was so close to coming…
Then, the bastard started all over again.
“Do ye know why I’m keeping ye like this?” he’d whispered diabolically, ignoring my pathetic whining. “Because when I finally cram my cock inside your soaking cunt-” I went from achy and empty to filled to bursting, filled beyond capacity as he drove his shaft inside me. “-I know you’ll explode like a supernova.”
Damn him, Idid.He slapped my ass - hard, really hard, leaving flaming red marks - and chuckled as I helplessly tightened down on him each time. All I knew was after the first three orgasms, everything went black until I woke up, wrapped in a silky blanket, held on his lap on the couch.
I’m feeling the thaw from more than just Michael. Sloan and Arabella have invited me over to their places several times and Luna, who’s been out of the country with her husband Kai, called in during lunch to talk about having the next get together at her house here on the square. After weeks of being terrified to put a foot down and feeling my entire life crack like a frozen lake underneath me, it feels like I might have a place here.
Even fate seems to decide that we deserve a break, because nothing new or terrible has happened within the MacTavish empire. Ibrought up going back to my internship with the MacTavish law division with Michael and he cut me off gentlywith, "Not yet. We don't know if Taylor is still targeting you after we locked down the security breach.”
He kindly didn’t mention that my mother was consideredthesecurity breach. He says he has people tracking Taylor’s activity and it's suspicious. Even Ian, my reluctant guardian, seems to be relaxed enough to accept a blueberry muffin from me this morning for breakfast.
I wait for Ian to finish his muffin before reminding him I’m visiting my mother today. When he escorts me out of the house, I stop short.
“This isn’t our car.”
It’s new, an Aston-Martin SUV and it’s armored up tighter than a bank vault.
“The boss had this customized for ye,” he says, opening the back door. “It was delivered this morning.”
There’s a new driver, too. Torin. He’s one of the senior staff in MacTavish security. He’s too high up for this position. I give a little yelp as Ian shuts the heavy door with a teeth-rattling thud.
A new armored car. Two of the most experienced MacTavish guards for me.
The ice feels like it’s cracking under my feet again.
I find Mom in the cottage garden, Mala is sitting with her. “The sourdough starter is really the key,” Mom says earnestly. “You want to do a series of stretches and folds to strengthen the bread dough.” Mala’s holding one of the mugs from our kitchen, I can smell the peppermint tea from here.
What is happening here? When does Mala chill in the garden with Mom? Talking aboutbaking?
