“Got it,” I manage.
“Very good. Now, hold out your hands, and don’t try to do anything stupid or I’m going to have to hurt you. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?”
He’s speaking to me with the same calm, yet authoritative air one might use for a child. It’s a jarring contrast, the fact that this man is capable of causing me immense harm, and yet he’s talking to me as if he doesn’t want to do so.
“I don’t want you to hurt me,” I agree, praying that he won’t.
I don’t know if I can trust him. This could be one big mindfuck, and he’s pretending that he’s here to do no harm right before he starts torturing me.
“Then hold out your hands,” he orders firmly.
If I do, I’m going to have to let go of the blankets I’m using as a shield to cover my nakedness. But one look at the Russian stranger’s impassive face tells me I don’t have a choice. I slinkdown as much as I can, and then I pull my arms out of the covers like he asked, holding my hands toward him.
“Don’t try to move, or it will go very poorly for you,” he warns, reaching inside his black jacket.
I tense up, waiting for him to extract a knife or a gun. But instead, he pulls out a pair of handcuffs, and relief washes over me. Maybe he really is just going to restrain me. Maybe he only came here as some sort of sadistic warning. A small act of terrorism so Alessio knows the Russian Mafia means business.
God, I hope so.
I hold my breath and my tongue as the intruder snaps a cuff onto my left wrist.
“Arm up,” he orders.
I realize he’s going to handcuff me to the headboard. I hesitate, knowing that if I do as he asks, the duvet that’s resting precariously over my breasts is going to slide the rest of the way down, exposing me to this stranger.
He chuckles, the sound dark and low. “I’ve seen tits before. No need to be shy.”
I’m sure he’s being intentionally crude, but I can’t keep the heat of embarrassment from stinging my cheeks when I reluctantly do as he commands, lifting my arms up like he indicated.
“Wise choice.” He loops the handcuffs around the headboard and snaps the other ring onto my right wrist.
The blanket falls. Cool air washes over my exposed breasts, and I hope to God the Russian won’t look, won’t notice. That he’ll spare me this small bit of dignity.
My hopes are in vain.
His glittering eyes dip, an appreciative smile curving his lips into a sharp smile. “They are nice tits,malyshka. Andriani has excellent taste.”
I want to tell him to go to hell. To rail at him for this violation, even if he hasn’t touched me. But I’m terrified that if I stand up to him, the Russian will do something far worse than handcuffing me to the bed and leaving my naked breasts on display. He could break my fingers, like he threatened when I was contemplating going for my phone. Or worse.
He could rape me. Kill me. Kidnap me. For all I know, this man is capable of anything. He was skilled enough to incapacitate the small army of guards Alessio keeps here. To slip through the building’s security, to gain entry through a locked door. What else can he do? I don’t want to know.
“You are holding your tongue,” the Russian observes. “A wise choice. I like a woman who knows her place, even if my preferred place for every woman is on her knees.”
I can’t contain myself for another second.
“Fuck you,” I spit at him. “You sexist prick.”
He laughs again like he’s enjoying this. “Watch your tongue,malyshka. I’d hate to have to cut it out.”
He’s not joking. I can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes.
I bite my lip and don’t say anything else.
The Russian pulls out a phone, taps on the screen a few times, and then looks back to me. “Repeat what you’re telling Andriani.”
Struggling to think beyond the fear inhabiting my brain isn’t easy, but somehow, I organize my thoughts into some semblance of sense.
“I’m telling him that the Andrianis are responsible for some of your men’s arrests. And that this led to a profitable business being shut down, so now you’re going to take something in return. The pakh…pakh…”
