Chapter 8

Picking out a white nightgown, she went into the bathroom and ran the water into the tub, adding a generous amount of bubbles. She laid back, thinking about what she would say to Dmitry. She knew he would be angry but hoped he would understand.

However, her gut told her he wouldn’t.

When the water started getting cold, she stepped out, dried off, and put on the silk nightgown he had brought for her. Her hands shook from nervousness, and she needed something to calm her nerves.

Going over to the mini-bar that Dmitry kept in his bedroom, she took out the bottle of wine and poured herself a large glass full of it, taking a long swallow.

She walked out onto the balcony with her wine, looking at the ground below her. Cars were leaving, and she knew he would be up soon, so she finished her glass of wine and went to get more.

Her hand tightened around the glass stem when she heard the bedroom door opening.

“I hope you aren’t drinking too much, in case you are pregnant,” he said when he saw her standing out on the balcony.

“This is my second glass,” she answered nervously.

He took the glass from her hand. “You’ve had enough then. I understand you’re still upset about what happened, but you have nothing to worry about. Drinking too much will not help you; it’ll just make you sick since you are not used to alcohol.”

She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she tried to find the courage to speak. “I can’t go through with this.”

He lifted one eyebrow as he looked at her. “What can’t you go through with?”

“I don’t want to bring a baby into this world of yours. It’s full of danger, killing, hurting people, and the fear of being murdered. Raising a child in it is not right, so I changed my mind, and I won’t do it.”

He raised the glass to his lips and finished the wine, setting the glass on the table. “You don’t have a choice. You will do it. We made a deal, and I bought you from Rudy for a lot of money. No one goes back once they have made a deal with me. Have you forgotten I saved you from a life of prostitution, maybe even death?”

She moved further away from him. She knew him well enough that when his Russian accent got thicker, it meant he was becoming angry.

“I know, and I thank you for that, but I can’t do it. Please, just let me go and find someone else. You could hire a surrogate, someone who would be more than willing to give you a child. But my conscience would eat me alive, so let me go,” she begged him, tears filling her eyes.

She let out a strangled gasp when he grabbed her, pinning her between himself and the wall, his eyes filled with fury. “Now you listen to me—you are going nowhere. It is you I want to give birth to my son, so we can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

How she found the courage to speak was a mystery to her. “So are you saying you’re going to force yourself on me until I get pregnant? Are you that much of a monster? If you want a baby so bad, why don’t you fuck Bepa?”

He laughed when she mentioned her. “Bepa, have you gone mad?”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She’s in love with you, and that’s probably why she hates me; she’s jealous you brought me here.”

“You are talking nonsense. She is older than me and has been with me for years. Besides, it’s you I want to fuck. You are so beautiful, skin so soft, and you have a tight cunt.”

He released her and stepped back when she slapped him across the face.

She backed away, covering her mouth in horror when she realized what she had done. She was so close to the balcony’s edge and wondered if he would throw her over it.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw what a long drop it was, knowing the fall would kill her.

He stood staring at her, his eyes turning dark as he rubbed his cheek. Not once in his whole life had anyone ever slapped him. “Go inside and get into bed and wait for me.”

He was not used to anyone talking back to him while looking him straight in the eyes. No one dared to do that and lived to tell about it. But he could not and would not hurt her. He also would not force himself on her. He may be a lot of things, but a rapist wasn’t one of them.

He touched his cheek; he liked her bravery and spunk and would give her time before climbing on top of her. It wouldn’t take much to get her in the mood—that he found out right away.

He waited until his temper was under control before going inside, removing his clothes, and getting into bed. He could tell she was still awake by the way she was breathing. She was probably waiting for him to screw her, but he wasn’t going to.

He would make her sweat and worry about when he would pounce on her. Rolling onto his side, facing away from her, he mumbled good night and closed his eyes.

She was expecting him to try and make love to her, but instead, he rolled over onto his side and went to sleep. She was relieved, thinking he might let her go.

It wasn’t long before she, too, was asleep. It was morning, and she was still in a deep sleep and thought she was dreaming when she felt his mouth over her pussy, his tongue sucking and licking her bud, and she started moaning.

She realized it wasn’t a dream and—opening her eyes—she saw his head between her legs. Closing her eyes, her fingers gripped the bedsheets as his tongue went in deep, lapping up her juices when she orgasmed.

Her body went limp, and the feel of his cock rubbed against her as he moved up. His lips crashed down hard on her as he spread her legs wider and entered her with one very hard thrust, making her scream out his name.

His hips rotated, moving inside her like a crazed animal, going faster. Her arms wrapped around his body, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he pounded into her, hard and fast.

It felt as though her eyes rolled to the back of her head; his grunts and moans added to her pleasure. She felt him releasing inside her, mixed with the juices from her orgasm.

He pulled out, staying on top of her; he looked down at her face, which was sweaty and flushed. “I enjoyed the taste of you, and you were so wet for me. I think you and I should go away for a couple of weeks. Would you like that?”

“Where would we go?” she asked, getting wet again from just the feel of him on top of her.

She couldn’t help it. His body was so muscular, so toned, and he smelled amazing.

Even though he was her first, she knew that no other man would or could have had this effect on her.

“I own an island far from here. No one else can get to it.”

“Will Bepa be going with us?”

“No, it will just be you and me. I will have my plane take us this afternoon. You will like it there; it’s private, and we can go swimming and relax.”

He kissed her before jumping out of bed and pulling on his pants.

“I’ll have Bepa pack our luggage.”

She watched as he went into the bathroom and heard the shower running.

She would wait until he was done before taking one herself.

She laid back—her body was still tingling from their lovemaking.

When she heard him coming back into the room, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep until he left.

Then, getting up, she went and took her shower.

After taking a long shower, she dried off, wrapped a towel around her, and returned to the bedroom to pick out some clothes to wear.

She found Bepa there, filling a couple of suitcases.

“Enjoy your vacation, shylyukha,” she said, giving Danica a dirty look before walking out.

She went to the closet and picked out a dress—white with black spots—and a pair of heels.

It still amazed her how many clothes he had bought her.

She still had to think of a way to escape their deal without losing her life.

Going downstairs, she met Dmitry for breakfast in the dining room.

She couldn’t stop her heart from flipping when she saw this hunk of a man wearing a dark suit, looking like a Greek god.

She sat down when he pulled out a chair for her, feeling and smelling his minty breath brush against her neck.

It sent shivers throughout her body.

She liked how it felt when he lightly brushed his fingers over the skin on her arm.

It was as if electricity was coursing through her body, making her hot.

She shook off the feeling, thinking there was something wrong with her for feeling this way.

He was a killer—killed without giving it a second thought—one who could kill her at any moment, and yet she was so turned on by his touch.

She knew then that there was something wrong with her.

“We will leave right after breakfast,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Just then, Bepa came in and spoke to him in Russian.

Clearly, they were arguing, but Danica kept quiet.

But judging from the look on Dmitry’s face and the way she stormed out, it wasn’t good.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what that was all about?”

He leaned back in his chair, lifting the cup of coffee to his lips as he sipped.

His jaw was set in a tight, firm line when he looked at her.

“She is angry that she is not going with us.”

“Why would that upset her?” She looked at him, not flinching as she waited for him to answer.

“Whenever I go there, I usually take her. You know, to cook and clean; she is upset that I’m not taking her this time. I told her you and I needed time alone to get to know each other better and to make a baby.”

He enjoyed watching her squirm, knowing she wanted out of the deal but knew she was trapped and had no choice but to go along.

He was determined to get her pregnant over the next two weeks, even if he had to do it every day, every hour, if that’s what it took.

“Oh great, you’re not taking her, which gives her another reason to hate me.”

She looked at him—a thought crossed her mind.

“You know, she’s not that much older than you, and with the right clothes and makeup, and if she let her hair down, she would be a handsome woman.”

He stared at her, shaking his head.

“If you are trying to get me to change my mind about you and bed her, you are sadly mistaken. She could be a Playboy bunny, and still, I wouldn’t want her. It is you I want, you who I shall have in my bed until you give me the son I want, the son I need to carry on the family business.”

She felt brave all of a sudden.

“Maybe I can’t get pregnant, then what will you do? Kill me and find some other poor virgin who you can control and use as a sex toy until she gets pregnant? Or maybe you’ll be the problem; perhaps your swimmers are dead in the water, so what will you do? You think you are so tough, that there’s nothing you can’t do, but what if you can’t impregnate a woman? What then?”

He threw his napkin down and slammed his fist on the table as he stood up.

His nostrils flared, and his breathing became heavy.

“Do not talk to me in this manner. You think you can make me so mad that I will let you go—well, let me tell you that is not going to happen. I swear to God that by the time we return, you will be pregnant even if I have to fuck you every hour on the hour. Don’t think I can’t do it; I can go for days, all night. Be ready to go in twenty minutes.”

He stormed out of the room; she was the only one to get him this worked up, and he didn’t like it.

She was so hoping that by making him mad, he would let her go, but it had the opposite effect.

Now, he was more determined to get what he wanted from her.

She knew there was no hope.

She would have to give him what he wanted.

After all, what choice did she have? But whether she could leave after giving birth to a son was another question.

If she had to stay—which he said she could do—she would raise her child to be different from his father.

She would raise him to be good, to have compassion, and not grow up to be a killer.

If Dmitry thought he could turn her son into a monster, he had another thing coming; she would fight for her son’s soul even if it killed her.