Page 97 of Marked By the Mob

Artur leans back in his chair, his jaw tight. “You think we’re using you.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.” I set down my coffee cup before my shaking hands betray how much this conversation is costing me. “You bought me at an auction. You’ve kept me here for weeks. You’ve given me access to your operations and your lives, but I don’t know if that’s because you trust me or because it serves your purposes.”

“Both,” Rurik says flatly.

The honesty of it hits me like a slap. I want to be angry. I want to storm out and prove Krystal right. But something in his expression stops me.

“Explain,” I demand.

Rurik stands and moves around the table toward me, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the window. “When we went to that auction, we were looking for a wife. Someone strong enough to stand beside all three of us and help bridge the gaps our fathers left behind. Someone who could unite our families.”

“So I was always just a strategic acquisition,” I say, my voice tight.

“You were,” Eduard says quietly, moving to stand beside Rurik. “At first.”

“And now?” The question comes out barely above a whisper.

Artur stands too, completing the circle around me. “Now you’re so much fucking more than that, and it scares the shit out of me.”

The admission catches me off guard. Artur doesn’t do vulnerable. He does cocky and charming and dangerous, but not this raw honesty that makes my chest ache.

“We didn’t plan on caring about you,” Rurik says, his pale eyes locked on mine. “We didn’t plan on wanting you for more than what you could give us strategically.”

“But we do,” Eduard adds, his hand finding my uninjured shoulder. “We care about you, Emma. Not because you’re FBI. Not because you’re useful. Because you’reyou.”

My throat tightens, and I have to blink hard against the sudden burn of tears. “How do I know that’s true? How do I know you’re not just saying what I need to hear to keep me compliant?”

“Because if we just wanted you compliant,” Artur says, stepping closer, “we wouldn’t have given you a choice. We wouldn’t have let Krystal stay. We wouldn’t have spent the last few weeks helping you chase down a mole who wants you dead.”

He’s right. The logic is sound. But logic doesn’t ease the fear that’s been building since Krystal’s warning last night.

“I’m terrified,” I admit quietly. “I’m terrified that I’m falling for you and it’s all in my head. That I’m just some captive with Stockholm syndrome who’s convinced herself this is real.”

Rurik’s hand cups my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “It’s real, Emma. What we feel for you is real.”

“Then say it,” I challenge, my voice breaking slightly. “Tell me what you feel.”

The three of them exchange glances, that silent communication I’ve come to recognize. Then Eduard speaks, his voice low and rough.

“I care about you more than I’ve cared about anyone in years. When I saw you fall in that café, when I thought you’d been killed, something in me broke. I can’t imagine this life without you in it anymore.”

Artur’s hand finds my waist, pulling me closer. “You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. You challenge everything I thought I knew about what I wanted. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.”

Rurik’s pale eyes hold mine with an intensity that steals my breath. “You’re ours, Emma. Not because we bought you. Not because you’re useful. Because we choose you. Every day, wechooseyou.”

The words break something open in my chest and suddenly I’m kissing him. My hands fist in his shirt as I pull him down to me, pouring everything I can’t say into the kiss. He responds immediately, his mouth claiming mine with a possessiveness that makes my knees weak.

Eduard’s hands slide around my waist from behind, his mouth finding my neck. Artur’s fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head so Rurik can kiss me deeper.

“We better take this somewhere a little more private,” Rurik says against my mouth.

We barely make it upstairs. Hands are everywhere, stripping away clothes with urgent efficiency. By the time we reach the massive bed, I’m down to my underwear and they’re not far behind.

Eduard lifts me onto the bed, his gray eyes dark with hunger as he settles between my thighs. His mouth finds my breast through the thin fabric of my bra, and I arch into the touch with a gasp.

Rurik’s hands work the clasp of my bra, freeing my breasts. His mouth closes over my other nipple while Eduard’s fingers slide beneath the waistband of my underwear, finding me already wet and ready.

Artur strips off the last of his clothes and moves to kneel beside my head, his thick cock hard and ready. “Open for me, sweetheart.”