“How?”
Holding my gaze, he tells me, “You’re to be photographed with your arms and legs restrained to a chair, and a piece of duct tape covering your mouth.”
Another soft gasp escapes me at the thought of being tied up again. I pace away from the mobster, then lower myself into the chair in the corner he just vacated. It’s still warm from his body heat.
“For how long? How long will I have to be…like that?”
“Ten or fifteen minutes. Just long enough for me to take the photos Gavriil wants, then you’ll be released and allowed to change.”
Well, at least that’s…something, I guess.
Ten or fifteen minutes is nothing. I can survive anything for that length of time. Yesterday I was bound for over an hour.
“Alina, if you refuse to do this willingly, Gavriil will send his men over here to undress you. I don’t think you want it to come to that. I sure as fuck don’t want it to come to that,” Dominik says, muttering the last part under his breath.
So, I was right. Gavriil is a monster.
He may look like a cool, calm mobster, but after meeting him for only a few moments, I could see the darkness in his eyes. He’s the kind of man who craves violence. Relishes it. That’s the difference between him and his underboss. Dominik may look like carefully contained violence dressed up in a suit, but I don’t think he would be unnecessarily cruel to me or to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.
Unless this whole “kindness” charade he’s playing is merely a means of showing ownership over me to spite hisPakhan.
“What if he ordered you to undress me and put those things on me?” I ask. “Would you refuse?”
“If he ordered it, I’d put a bullet in the wall before I touched you like that.” Dominik steps closer to me, making me shrink back into the chair. “You really think I would tear your clothes off unless you asked me to?”
“You did last night,” I remind him.
He rocks back on his feet. “That was different. I tore off a piece of fabric to staunch the blood gushing from my nose, all thanks to you.”
I hate the way my heart races at the reminder of him hovering over me. And it’s annoying how my skin feels hot like I have a fever. Dominik may be attractive, sure, but he won’t be tearing my clothes off me again in this lifetime.
A cell phone dings. Dominik breaks the silence and our eye contact to pull his device from his pants pocket to read it. “Gavriil is asking why he hasn’t received the photos yet. Should I tell him that you’re changing?”
I stare him down for a long moment, making sure that he understands just how furious I am about this, before finally conceding. “Yes,” I grit out.
Getting up, I lower my shorts then grab the panties from the box. I step into them, pulling them up my legs, over my sensible black cotton ones that will provide more coverage.
Dominik’s lips part as if to protest just as I pull off the tee, his tee I assume, revealing my matching black bra. I reach for the corset and slip it on over top. “Tie me up?” I ask, an ironic question since that’s what this whole ploy is all about.
While I’m half-naked and feel completely vulnerable standing before my captor, I still find pleasure in the way this powerful, intimidating man’s big hands fumble when he reaches for the satin ribbon. It doesn’t take him long to get ahold of both ends of it. Then, I’m the one thrown off balance.
With each and every yank of the ribbons, Dominik tugs me a little closer to him, until I’m pressed to his chest and stomach, barely able to breathe. He gazes down at the swell of my breasts overflowing from my bra cups and the top of the tight corset as he slowly, carefully ties the bow there.
His minty breath warms my face when he says, “I’d prefer to be doing this under different circumstances.” His longfingers reach out to adjust the delicate bow he just made, his thumbs intentionally brushing over the line of my cleavage that disappears into the corset.
I try to take a deep breath, but my ribs are too constricted by the material, by his nearness. “If you had it your way, you’d be taking all this off, not putting it on?” I guess.
Dominik smirks a little, the most relaxed expression I’ve seen on his stern face. “If circumstances were different, you’d be begging me to take every piece off you.”
Begging? I’d never beg him for anything.
“If you hadn’t kidnapped me off the street? If we’d just bumped into each other like normal people?” I question him, fighting between the growing heat in my lower belly and the anger that I feel toward him for uprooting my life and threatening Archer’s.
“How many people actually meet like that?” He reaches up and gently tucks a strand of damp hair behind my ear, making me shiver.
I blink at him, not expecting the question or the innocent touch. “I don’t know, but we didn’t meet like that.”
“A shame,” Dominik murmurs. “Do you need my help with the stocking and garters, or do you think you can handle them by yourself?”
