Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I hadn’t fucked him yet, and already I was his whore.
10
The next hour of trying on clothes reduced me to a doll for Daphne to dress up, and I was paraded in front of Vasilije as he scrutinized not just the clothes, but the way they looked on my body. Every time I came out of the dressing room, his gaze grew heavier, weighing me down until it was hard to move.
At one point, he sent Daphne off in search of a dress. “Something she can wear to meet my family,” he said. It sent an icy chill crawling along my skin. The only family he had around to meet was Goran Markovic.
As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned away from the mirror and focused on him. “Why are you doing this?”
His dark eyes tightened on me, although he faked confusion. “Doing what?”
“Buying clothes for me. Saying you’re going to introduce me to your family.”
His smile peeled back and his dimple came out in full effect. “Because my uncle gave me an order this morning to get rid of you, and it’ll piss him off.”
Oh, shit. My mouth went slack, but Vasilije just laughed and waved my terror away, like it was no big deal the head of the Serbian mafia in south Chicago had ordered my death.
“I’m going to have fun fucking you, Oksana.” His tone was low, but turned smug as he kept talking. “And probably a lot of fun fucking with him.”
I turned away to hide my eyes, but it was pointless. Vasilije could see all three angles of my nervous expression in the mirror. I was a pawn in the game he was playing. Easy to move and sacrifice. Goran might be pissed at Vasilije, but who would be the most likely target of his uncle’s anger?
I searched deep inside myself for the revenge that burned and fanned the flames. I wasn’t a pawn. I was a motherfucking queen, the most powerful player on the board. Vasilije would be my pawn. A piece I’d move to get exactly what I wanted.
My nerves drained away. “If you’re so eager to fuck me, why haven’t you?”
He didn’t look like a pawn when he grinned at me through the mirror. He looked like the devil again. “I like watching you squirm.” The matter-of-fact tone dug in. He came off the couch and his hands slithered around my waist, pulling me back against him. Our gazes were locked on each other through the glass. “I’m enjoying taking you apart.”
“You’re not.”
He pushed a lock of my hair out of his way and brushed the tip of his nose against the edge of my ear. “I’m not?”
“You can do whatever you want. It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything or give you power over me.”
A thrilled smile spread on his lips like fingers sliding across piano keys in a glissando. “Spoken like a true virgin. Sex is all about power. And . . . whatever I want?”
That was what he’d focused on, and his words made my stomach bottom out. I clawed mentally to regain the ground I’d just given up. “It won’t make a difference. I don’t care.”
He snorted. “Bullshit.”
I watched his lips part, and the tip of his tongue peeked out, tracing a line on the curve of my neck. I shivered against his mouth. “I don’t have feelings.”
The body fitted against mine . . . had he just flinched? It was so subtle, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. “Right. Those weren’t tears last night when pages got torn in your precious book.”
I’d been overwhelmed physically, that was all. “I was exhausted. It wasn’t an emotional thing, because it couldn’t be. I don’t have emotions.”
There was no question of his pause this time, but he recovered quickly. “Nice try. I don’t believe you for one fucking second. You’re afraid of me.”
“I feel fear,” I amended. “I can get angry. But guilt? Shame? Empathy? No. I don’t see the point.”
“You don’t see the point?” He looked amused. “What about happiness?” He threw the question in my face as a challenge. “What about love?”
“Love is for people with hearts. It’s a weakness I, thankfully, do not have.”
Who would have thought Oksana Kuznetsov could shock the devil? His mouth hung open, and the hands on my hips turned to stone. It was then Daphne reappeared with a fitted, black and white print dress. She lingered at the doorway with a slight smile. She thought she’d caught us in a quiet lovers’ moment.
I strangled back a bitter laugh at the idea of us as lovers.
Vasilije separated from me and returned to his spot on the couch, his tone authoritarian as she handed me the hanger. “Oksana needs some things to go under that dress.”
Daphne didn’t bat an eye at his request for lingerie. “Absolutely. Would you like to help me select those pieces?”