Dimitri's Forbidden Submissive (Submissive's Wish) (13 page)

She lightly traced her fingers over Dimitri’s arms, her mind oddly drifting, just absorbing the world and enjoying the moment. His voice rumbled at her back. “Is worth the trip?”

“Oh, yeah.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Did I say thank you yet?”

“Every chance you get.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “But I like. In Russia the women that are around me are….what is the English word…used to luxury. Do not see the beauty of things, only the money it took to buy.”

“Spoiled?”

“
Da
, spoiled.”

“Sounds like you hang around the wrong kind of women.”

He stiffened, then pulled away. Rya turned away from the sight of the canyon to look at him. His expression had reverted to that cold mask again. “No, little Rya, you are wrong kind of woman for me.”

That hurt, more than it should considering she’d only known him for the briefest of times. “I see.”

Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them and cupped her face gently in his hands. “You are good woman. So full of life. Honorable, kind…I do not deserve you.”

“You don’t see yourself very clearly, do you? You’re a good man, Dimitri.”

Once again, she seemed to say the wrong thing and he jerked back like she’d slapped him. “No. I am not.”

“What are you talking about? I mean, yeah, you’re not exactly an angel, I’m sure, but you’re not a bad man.”

Giving her a frustrated look, he began to pace. “Bringing you here, is selfish. I should take you back.”

Hurt pinged through her but she lifted her chin. “Why? I thought we were having a good time.”

Instead of answering her he went to where the motorcycle was parked beneath the shade of a small cluster of juniper trees. He opened the compartment and brought out two small objects.

“Rya, come here.”

Curious, and getting a little irritated by his mood swings, she walked over and stood in the shade with him. He was busy using what looked like a satellite phone, and in his other hand had her smartphone. She frowned at her pink sparkly phone in his hand. It had been packed in a separate pocket of her suitcase which meant he’d gone through her stuff.

“Umm, what the fuck are you doing with my phone?”

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable, before handing her phone to her. “You have internet through my phone. Do a search for my name, Dimitri Cheslav Novikov.”

“What?”

Instead of answering her he left her at the bike and went back to staring at the canyon while she watched him in bewilderment. With a sigh she checked her phone for missed calls, sent her mom a quick text to let her know where she was, who she was with, and that she was all right, then did a search for Dimitri’s name. A bunch of stuff came up in Russian and she frowned, then clicked the first link and read the roughly translated version. It was about the Novikov crime family, starting back in the very late seventeen hundreds and going up to today. She quickly scanned through the small biographies next to each picture, her gut churning as she read tales of murder, rape, kidnapping, theft, and enough political intrigue to write a thousand books. After the fall of the Soviet Union, the Novikov family rose to the position of the top Bratva in Moscow. Since then the once powerful house had suffered from poor management, but the article hinted that things were going to change when the new leader took over as soon as Jorg Novikov died.

With her heart beating hard in her throat, she moved over to the juniper tree and slowly sat down, bracing herself against the trunk as she got to the modern day leader of the family, Jorg Novikov. Even if she didn’t know it was Dimitri’s father, she’d have recognized the familial resemblance right away in the picture next to his bio. They had the same eyes, similar bone structure, and the same dark hair, but there were differences. Dimitri had a stronger jaw than his father, but their resemblance chilled her to see a man who was allegedly responsible for a long list of horrendous crimes and looked so much like the man she was alone with, in the middle of nowhere.

With a shaking finger, she scrolled down and came to a picture of a man she vaguely recognized from the lodge, Alexandr Novikov, eldest son of Jorg Novikov and the
Obshchak
of the family. She opened a window and did a quick search, discovering that the
Obshchak
was one of the three men who were the most powerful people in the Novikov Bratva. The
Obshchak
was in charge of the money and dealing with the government bribes. Jorg was the
Pakhan
, the pinnacle of the pyramid, Alexandr, the
Obshchak
, was one of the second most powerful, one of two men known as ‘The Two Spies’. The second was Dimitri.

She glanced up at the man in question, still standing with his back to her and his gaze focused on the canyon. With her heart in her throat she read about Dimitri, the
Sovietnik
of the Novikov family, basically the man at the right hand man of his father, the Pakhan. Or, he used to be. Almost four years ago, some kind of falling out occurred between Dimitri and his father. The website offered up a few theories, but the truth was that no one knew what happened except Dimitri and his father. Dimitri was still part of the Bratva, and still a high-ranking member, but he’d been estranged from his father for four years.

She looked over at the picture of Dimitri and her heart lurched. He was caught on camera exiting a brothel known to be owned by the Novikov family. Evidently Dimitri was in charge of the prostitution and enforcement branch of the criminal network, and was a very, very dangerous man. He was suspected of having been involved with dozens of murders and even a couple bombings. The preferred method of execution for those the Novikov family considered enemies was to skin them alive, then feed them to hogs. She’d grown up around organized crime, but nothing of this scale. This was…this was bad.

Her phone chirped and she saw that it was her mom calling. With numb fingers she held the phone to her ear. “Hi, Mom.”

She was surprised to hear her step-dad “Baby girl, it’s Rock.”

He sounded super pissed and she swallowed hard, staring at Dimitri’s back. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she realized the Dimitri she thought she knew was nothing like the Dimitri who helped run a vast criminal empire that was so brutal, so sadistic that she had trouble even wrapping her mind around it. He ran the prostitution arm of the Novikov family, for fuck’s sake. A shudder of revulsion worked through her and she was
so
glad they’d used a condom.

“Hey, Rock.”

“What the fuck are you doing with Dimitri Novikov?
Have you lost your goddamn mind?
Do you know who he is?”

“I…I just found out. He made me do an Internet search on him.” She wondered if Dimitri could hear her and lowered her voice, “Rock, I had no idea. He seemed so nice.”

“Rya, listen to me. It is not safe to be around him, do you get me? You need to get away from him as soon as possible.”

“You think he’d hurt me?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that the Novikov Curse will.”

“What?”

“He hasn’t told you about that yet?”

“I read something, but I was a little distracted. What the hell are you talking about and how do you know Dimitri?”

“I don’t know him, but that’s Club business.”

She wanted to scream in frustration, but managed to hold it in. “Rock, what should I do? We’re at the fucking Grand Canyon, alone.”

“What the hell are you doing there?”

Without going into too much detail—her step-dad didn’t need to know she was into BDSM and sold herself at a charity auction—she told him about Dimitri wanting to get away from everyone, how she’d mentioned that she’d love to see the Grand Canyon, how he’d flown her out there, bought a motorcycle, and basically done everything to fulfill her wish. As she spoke about it, she felt like she was talking about two different people. The Dimitri she thought she knew seemed utterly devoted to making her happy, but in his other life he fucked whores and killed people.

Rock was silent for a long time, then said in a tight voice, “I want to talk to him.”

“Fuck. Rock please…”

“Baby girl, give him the phone, now.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Screwing up her courage, she walked over to Dimitri and cleared her throat. “My step-dad wants to talk to you.”

He turned and gave her a searching look, sadness flashing through his eyes before he took the phone. “Go back to the tree, Rya. This is not a conversation for you.”

Part of her was tempted to tell him to fuck off, or to just get on the bike and ride off, but she couldn’t leave him here. He hadn’t done anything wrong—to her. Fuck, he’d tried to warn her, but she’d been too wrapped up in her romantic fantasies about him being in the Russian mafia without thinking about the cold, brutal truth of what that really meant.

With a heavy heart, she returned to the tree and sat on the hard ground, drawing up her knees and resting her forehead on them. Her emotions were all over the place, ricocheting from fear, to sadness, to anger, and surprisingly enough, to feeling pain for Dimitri. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to have been raised by someone as ruthless as his father, to have grown up in an environment of such extreme violence. God, she was so stupid. Her idiotic optimism wanted to see the best in everyone, so she ignored the repeated warnings Dimitri had given her, and listened to her hormones and her foolish romantic heart instead.

Boots crunched in the rocks near her and she looked up, taking her phone from a silent Dimitri when he offered it. Her voice cracked as she said, “Hey, Rock, it’s me.”

Rock actually sounded calmer than when he’d first talked to her. “Hey, baby girl. You sound freaked out. Don’t be. It’s all good.”

Blinking rapidly, she tried to figure out what the hell was up with Rock’s sudden one-eighty. “What are you talking about? You told me…you know.”

“Yeah, but trust me, Dimitri’s not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“But he’s…” she glanced up, finding Dimitri still watching her with that cold look. “You know…”

“Yeah, I know. Better than you think. Give the man a chance to explain himself.”

“Why?”

“Because he isn’t going to let anything happen to you.”

“Rock, you aren’t making sense. And if you tell me Club business, I’m never going to bake for you again, and you know Mom can’t cook for shit.”

“Oh, that’s just harsh.” He sighed and some of the humor drained from his voice. “Look, not all bad guys are bad. Trust your heart to know the difference.”

“My heart? Fuck, Rock, you sound like a crappy fortune cookie.”

“Hear the man out, Rya.”

She stiffened. Rock only called her by her given name when he was really serious. “Why?”

“What the fuck is it with you women and why? Just
do
it.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

“Love you, baby girl. Be safe.”

“Thanks.” She hung up and stood, crossing her arms and staring at Dimitri. “Explain.”

For a long time he just looked at her, then shook his head. “I will take you home.”

Her temper snapped, and she stepped forward and glared at him. “Uh-uh. You better explain some shit right now. Like how many whores have you fucked?”

A flash of pain went through his eyes before his jaw tightened. “Many.”

Trying to pretend that didn’t hurt, she firmed her lips. “Glad we used a condom.”

“My whores are clean. I make sure and always wear condom, even for blow jobs, and they are tested weekly.”

“Oh, that’s right, you would know. You’re their fucking pimp.”

That pissed him off and she watched him struggle with his anger before the blank look came over his face again. “These women, they sell their bodies. Is
their
choice. They want to work for the Novikov Bratva because I make sure they are safe, they are not abused. The women that work for me make good money, in safe place, where
they
are in charge of what services they provide.”

“Seriously? You’re going to try to make this out like you’re a good guy? Helping the poor prostitutes? How noble of you.”

His voice went low, real low, as he growled out, “You live in different world, different ways. Prostitution happens everywhere, women sell themselves for money, is oldest profession.
Da
, we make money off of them, but is their choice. No woman that works for Novikov Bratva is forced. I keep them safe; my men keep them safe. They work in clean places with clients that have been tested for diseases and are happy. Many are the only source of income for their family. Is hard days all over the world. If we did not protect them they would be prey to real predators who would use them, sell them on black market, addict them to cheap drugs, and do other terrible things.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, not liking the world Dimitri portrayed at all. It made it hard for her to be morally offended by what he did, but personally it still hurt. “And you fuck these women?”

“Some of them.”

“But why? You’re…well, I thought you were such a good man.” She ignored his hurt look. “At the very least, you’re handsome. Why pay for what you can have for free?”

“Rya, I do not pay them for sex, I pay them to leave without loving me.”

“What?”

He muttered something in a long string of Russian. “There is much I cannot tell you. Things that would put you in danger.”

Hours ago she would have laughed, but after reading that website, she realized how truly out of her depth she was. “What’s the Novikov Curse?”

The rage that filled him made her shrink back against the tree. He looked at her, then closed his eyes and visibly struggled for calm. “I scare you.”

She considered lying, but at the moment her nails were embedded in the tree behind her like a frightened cat getting ready to climb. “You are.”

“I do not want to scare you, little Rya.” He held out his hand. “Please, come, I talk, but not with you being afraid of me.”

She gave his hand a weary look. “Talk here.”

His gaze hardened. “Is not good conversation. Many bad memories. Please, come.”