“No wonder the boss is keeping her so close,” Piotr continues, grinning. “Bet she’s sweet all over.” He doesn’t bother to lower his voice, speaking loud enough for me to hear every word clearly through the cracked window. “If you want to knowhowthings... work, how to please a man, I’ll happily teach you some skills. It might make them keep you longer.”
Bodhi curses and steps between us, blocking Piotr’s view with his broad shoulders.
“Her innocence is Kozlov’s top concern,” Bodhi says evenly. “Remember that.”
“She’d still be a virgin. Just one that’s able to give a decent blow job.” Piotr winks at me, straightens, and turns away. “Don’t pretend you don’t want a taste.”
Then Bodhi’s voice, flat and bored, carries clearly through the cracked window.
“Of course I don’t. Because I’m a grown-ass man who wants a woman who knows what she’s doing.” A pause, and when he speaks again, his voice has gone cold and hard. “And if you value your life, you better keep your hands, and your dick, to yourself.”
Piotr snorts. “Relax. I’m not stupid. Kozlov would cut my balls off and feed them to me.” Jerking his thumb back toward the car, he adds, “You can’t blame a man for dreaming, right?”
I stare at my lap, at my fingers that are twisted together so tightly they’ve gone bloodless. I hate that Bodhi’s words hurt. Hate that I started to think maybe he was different, that maybe he wasn’t like the rest of them.
He knew I was never getting out of this, yet he just sat there and said nothing while I clung to false hope like a child believing in fairy tales.
Idiot.I’m a complete idiot.
Something burns inside me. Indignation and stubborn rage. The fear is still there, a cold knot in my stomach that doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to go away, but now there’s something else rising alongside it. Something harder.
Petty rage.
If compliance isn’t going to save me, what’s the point in being good?
My nails dig into my palms hard enough to leave crescents in my skin. I could kill him. I could reach through this window and claw his eyes out, tear that smug smile right off his face, but it’s not Piotr my building fury is aimed at. It’s the man standing with his back to me, pretending to be decent while he helps them sell me.
The scared girl who walked into Kozlov’s club is gone. Dead.
If I’m dying anyway, I’m going to be the most difficult, uncooperative, unmarketable piece of merchandise they’ve ever tried to sell. I’m going to make them regret ever laying eyes on me. I’m going to make their lives hell until I find a way to escape or die trying.
And I’m going to start with him.
“So,” the driver interrupts, choosing to ignore his colleague’s disgusting behavior. “Piotr, you take her to the blue wing. Lock her in the room next to Kozlov’s suite. He wants her close.” He grins at Bodhi, all teeth and no warmth. “And I’ll give our new muscle the grand tour.”
Piotr reaches for my door again, his thick fingers wrapping around the handle this time, and I tense, every muscle bracing.
But Bodhi steps in front of him, shielding me with his body, one hand pressing flat against the door to keep it closed. His shoulders tense as his attention flicks not to me, but to Piotr’s hands. “I’ve got her.”
He dips his head down and extends his other hand toward me, palm up, waiting. “Come on. Get out.” His voice is low enough that only I can hear it, and there’s something in his tone that sounds almost like pleading.
I look at his offered hand, at the calluses on his palm and the scars across his knuckles. I look at his face, at the jaw that’s tight with tension, and dark eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
Then I remember it’s all an act.
“No,” I snap, shrinking back further. “Stop pretending to be the good guy.”
Something flickers across his face, surprise, maybe? Or guilt, but I’m not done. The anger is building in my chest, hot and bright, and I let it fuel me.
“Nobody here gives a fuck about me, you included, so quit trying to be so damned nice.” I fold my arms across my chest and settle deeper into the leather seat, planting myself like a tree with roots. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them. Maybe even worse.”
“Emma…” he warns, reaching for me again, but I jerk back, swatting at his outstretched hand.
Piotr laughs behind him, a mean, ugly sound. “Looks like she’s not a fan, Lennox. Want me to drag her out?”
He steps forward, reaching for the door handle, but Bodhi’s arm shoots out to block him, palm flat against Piotr’s chest.
“Kozlov told me to keep her safe. That means no marks. No bruises.” His voice is cold. Final. “I’ll handle it.”
