“Oh, come on. Everyone’s seen the coverage by now online,” he purred. “Tell me. What’s it like getting fucked by the big bad boss man.”
I glanced at Daniil. He was talking with Grigori, but again, as if he could feel me staring, he glanced my way, doing a double take at my face, his conversation abruptly cut off. As calmly as I could, I said, “Again, I have no clue what you’re talking about. And it’s really not fair that I don’t know your name since you know mine.”
The table started quieting, seeing half of its occupants mute and staring at me. I licked my lips nervously and put the phone on speakerphone as everyone shut up sharply when Daniil snapped at them. The guy started talking again as I laid the phone on the table, “My name’s not really important. What is important is that you’re fucking Daniil, and supposedly carrying his child.” Daniil glanced up at Artur, jerking his head, indicating something. “And, seriously, I have a few colleagues who are jealous of you and want to know if his cock’s as big as what they’ve all heard. They say he can screw for hours. That he makes women scream until their hoarse from pleasure.” He chuckled low again. “Is that what he does for you? Is that how he got a good little preacher’s daughter in bed?”
I tried not to look at my parents at the end of the table, swallowing nervously, and I barely noticed when Artur had jumped out of this chair, obeying his dad’s command, and raced out of the room. “If you’re going to ask personal questions like that, I would really like your name.”
Daniil’s hand was gripping mine in a death grip, even as Artur flew back in the room, racing to me, and messing with my phone, hooking it up to some kind of silver device with a large touchscreen as the guy starting that sick purr again. “No denying it this time. So you are pregnant with his child. Interesting. He usually goes for the strong, beautiful type. Although, there are perks to the small, subtly pretty ones. You’re so fragile. Easy to break.”
Daniil grip was crushing mine, and he glanced at Artur, who shook his head, his fingers still flying across the touch screen. Daniil gritted his teeth but motioned for me to continue talking even though I really just wanted to hang up on this psycho.
I stated quietly, “I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Psycho snarled, going back to his favorite topic. “Does he tie you up like we’ve all heard? And pour hot wax on you when you’re coming? Does he choke you to the point you almost pass out as he slams into you?”
I closed my eyes, wishing my parents seriously weren’t in here for this. “You’re sick.”
The guy chuckled. “Ah. He doesn’t do that to the good preacher’s daughter, huh?” He paused. “I could do that for you. Give you that pleasure-pain feeling of release. Would you like that, Elizabeth? Have the real power of Moscow between your legs?”
My head snapped to Artur, way past done talking to this guy. Artur held up a finger, tapping a few more buttons…and then nodded. Daniil released my hand instantly, grabbing my phone, and taking it off speaker. He started growling in Russian into the receiver, his voice booming and explosive in the silent room. I jumped, and Eva put her arm around me, holding me as I stared wide-eyed at the table, a little freaked by the venom in his tone.
And then, it hit me. What the guy said. Something was surfacing online. I jumped from the table, shaking my head, and holding my arms out when people stood, and raced from the room even as Daniil threatened—he had to be doing that with his tone—the guy over the line. Apparently, the psycho actually stayed on to shoot the breeze. Trofim was at my heels as I slid into the study and grabbed my laptop I left here on my previous visit. I panted, my belly past full, as I raced back into the dining room where Daniil was pacing and slashing his hand through the air, still hissing threats into the phone…until he closed it and chucked it across the room into a wall. And there went my work phone, shattered into bits. I wasn’t quite sure how I would explain that one, but I ignored it, sitting at the table and turning on my computer even as Daniil wrapped his arms around me from behind.
He kissed my cheek and temple repeatedly, and I slapped at his face when he started whispering things in Russian, too busy for this right now. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but I get it. You’re sorry I had to put up with Psycho.” I jerked my head at my parents. “Go tell them you’re sorry. That kind of threat was really nothing new to me, but I’m sure they didn’t like hearing it.”
“If that was nothing new to you, you’re quitting that damn job,” my dad shouted from down the table.
I paused in mid-key stroke with everyone in the room doing the same, turning their attention to my dad who had just cursed and shouted at the same time.
He stood, pointing at me. “I should have made you quit that job when Katie’s boyfriend beat you so badly you were in the hospital for two weeks.”
Daniil straightened, clearing his throat, sounding a little more cheerful. “You may, or may not, like to know that gentleman met an unfortunate outcome while in jail a few weeks ago. I believe his funeral service was a few days later.”
I blinked, turning around, and stared at Daniil. “You didn’t.”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t personally do it. A poppy seed did. Apparently, he was deathly allergic to them.” He shrugged. “Who knew something so tiny could be so dangerous.”
I heard my mom muttering at the end of the table, and my dad cocked his head, staring deadpan and saying, “That’s terribly unfortunate. I’m sure he’s enjoying his time in Hell.”
I turned my gaping attention on my dad just like Mom had. “Dad!”
Dad raised his eyebrows slightly but changed the subject. “Sweetie, if those are the types of phone calls you get at that job, then you do need to quit. Your life is taking on a much more dangerous angle as it is,” he gestured to where my phone was laying on the ground, “to need any more added worries, especially since you’re relationship with Daniil, apparently, isn’t so secret anymore.”
Mom murmured quietly, sounding a little shell-shocked, “You always wanted to become an author growing up, sweetie. Maybe you should listen to your father and take another profession. Writing a book sounds much more preferable than getting obscene phone calls.” She glanced at Daniil. “And I swear to God, if I ever hear about you pouring hot wax on my daughter or choking her, I will shoot you with your own gun.”
I just about fainted. In fact, my eyes kind of crossed.
“I can assure you, Mrs. Forter, I have never poured hot wax or choked a woman for their pleasure or mine. And I don’t plan on starting it in the future,” Daniil stated smoothly, and then bent down whispering in my ear, “What did I tell you about the anti-gun coalition?”
I swatted his face away. “You and I are going to have a talk about poppy seeds,” I mumbled, blinking at my computer and trying to focus.
He kissed my cheek and went to Artur, who had re-entered the room, leaving sometime before I arrived back in here, watching his son plug the silver device into the laptop he’d gone off to get. I ignored them and started typing up my name and Daniil’s together, grabbing a piece of cheese from Daniil’s plate and popping it in my mouth, waiting for the search engine to finish.
And finish it did. With too many damn hits.
“Shit,” Eva muttered, leaning over watching what I was doing. She pointed. “Bring that one up.”
I shook my head and scowled, clicking on the top one instead…the article was done by one Micah Olson. A picture of Daniil and I flashed on the screen. I gawked…because…it was of us on the golf course in Key West. It was dark, and you couldn’t really tell it was me because Daniil’s back was to the camera covering most of me, but you could tell he was locked in an embrace with my leg over his hip and hands in his hair. Jesus, Micah had been working this fucking story from the beginning.
