“That’s vague,” I say. “What kind of smart people?”
“The kind who understand numbers, investments, systems,” he says. “It’s for business. After I graduate, I’ll join the family business. We’re recruiting new talent.”
I narrow my eyes. “Family business, huh? People have been saying your family is… connected.”
He glances at me. “Connected to what?”
I hesitate. “The Russian mafia.”
The change in him is instant. His body goes still, his expression flat. His hand tightens slightly around my wrist. At that moment, I know it’s true. My instinct tells me. Dmitry isn’t easily caught off-guard. But the way his muscles are tensing is proof of the fact that I hit bullseye.
“Is that what they say?”
“Yes.”
He looks at me for a long moment. The air feels heavier, like the oxygen has been replaced with something dangerous.
“What do you think?” he asks finally.
I swallow hard, confronting the truth I’ve avoided for so long. The signs were there all along. He owns a drone, he stalks me like that’s normal, he has way too much money for a college kid, he is sinister and lives in a mansion. Plus, that muscled, tatted body should have been a dead giveaway. The strength and agility with which he hunted me down when I ran is proof that he was raised to be a predator. Raised to be a killer, even if he prefers more intellectual crime. “I think it’s true.”
He holds my gaze. Then he nods, slow, deliberate, but gives no clear answer. “You should be scared of me, Callista. I can ruin you if I want to.”
My pulse jumps, but fear is not what floods me. It is something hotter, something I do not want to name.
Maybe I should be scared. Maybe I should run from this. But the truth is, even knowing what his family is, I cannot look away.
He is danger wrapped in quiet calculation, sin disguised as intellect. And I’m already in too deep. I won’t be able to swim back to the surface even if I tried now.
TEN
Dmitry
I callher at midnight because I know she will be awake, lying in the dark, thinking about me the same way I have been thinking about her. The line rings twice before her voice comes through, low and groggy.
“Dmitry?”
Her voice does something to me. I can hear the sleep in it, the warmth, the little rasp that makes my blood rush to my cock.
“You sound tired,” I say.
“That’s because it’s midnight. Normal people sleep at this hour.”
“I’m not normal.”
“I’ve noticed,” she mutters. “Why are you calling me?”
“I’m taking you out on Friday,” I say simply.
There is a pause. “What?”
“The date,” I clarify. “The one I won at the auction. You owe me.”
She sighs, quiet and resigned. “You really like ordering people around, don’t you?”
“I like when you listen,” I say. “And you will. On Friday, you’ll wear what I tell you to wear. You’ll go where I tell you to go. You’ll eat what I order, drink what I hand you, and you’ll smile when I say so.”
“Are you serious?” she whispers.
