You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) (12 page)

‘Awesome.’

Then she helps me carry the coat, dress, and the accessories to the house before she leaves.

Dahlia Fury

-Ask for money and get advice-

A
s I glide down the stairs in the most beautiful dress I have ever worn, my pearls, my expensive coat over my arm, and my fantastically fabulous new shoes (I’ve already ordered a pair in Stella’s size), Noah appears at the bottom. His black eyes run down my body quickly and professionally, as if I’m a room he’s checking out for trouble.

He frowns. ‘You’re early. Wait in the White Room for Boss. He’ll be about fifteen minutes.’

‘OK,’ I say easily.

He nods and disappears down the corridor towards the kitchen.

I head towards the living room, open the door and peek inside. It’s empty. I close the door and move towards the music station. I press play and classical music fills the room. I have never really listened to classical music, but this piece is really beautiful and I’m standing there listening to it when the door opens and a man enters. He’s quite tall, very pale and probably in his forties. He is wearing a sharp suit.

‘Oh,’ he says when he sees me. He seems surprised. ‘I’m sorry. I’m looking for Zane. I was told he’d be here.’ His accent is from the rough end of London and there is something mean in his lean face, but his tone is polite.

‘He’ll be down soon,’ I say.

He shifts uncomfortably. ‘Maybe I should wait outside.’

‘It’s OK. You can wait here,’ I say.  I’m not one to quickly judge people, although I have to be honest, I don’t like him one bit. There is something about him that makes my skin crawl.

He grins suddenly, a smarmy, sly lift to his lips. ‘Are you Zane’s new … girl?’

There are a multitude of insults in that slight pause. I straighten my spine. God, sometimes you try to be nice to someone and they fucking stab you in the head.

I’m saved from answering by the door being thrown open. Zane is standing in the doorway. He seems massive compared to his guest and his body language is like nothing I have ever seen. His eyes are like sparks in his thunderous face and his scar looks livid. He is not looking at me. His entire attention is on the man who entered the room.

‘What the fuck are you doing here, Lenny?’ he rasps.

The man seems to have been caught off guard. For a few seconds he stares silently at Zane then the man who seemed so sly and knowing only moments ago goes on the defensive. At that moment I know who the lion in this jungle is.

‘Noah asked me to come in here and wait for you,’ he blurts out.

Zane strides into the room. ‘Next time you come into a room and you see her, you turn around immediately and fucking walk out, do you understand?’

‘I understand. I’m really sorry. I’m out of line, but it was an honest mistake. I didn’t do nothing, anyway. I just said hello, you know, to be polite to your lady. I’m sorry, OK,’ Lenny says, slippery and so obviously disingenuous.

I know I’ve gone completely still with shock at the pure aggression in Zane, but I am also aware that Lenny is not to blame. Even though I don’t like him, and right now he looks like a wriggling, slimy worm, it is not his fault. I asked him to stay. Besides, it occurs to me too that I’m probably in the wrong room. I assumed this was the white room because I met Molly here and I’d been told to wait in the same room.

‘It’s my fault,’ I say, hoping to change the air of menace in the room. ‘I told him he could wait for you here.’

Zane turns his eyes on me and they are blazing with fury. ‘Who the fuck gave you permission to talk?’ he snarls.

I take an involuntary step back. I have never been spoken to like that by anybody. My first reaction is one of pure fury. A kind I have never experienced before. I am so livid with him I start trembling.

‘I’ll come back tomorrow,’ Lenny mumbles, and slips out of the door as fast as his legs will carry him.

As soon as we are alone I lose my shit. This, as far as I am concerned, is the last straw. I’m out of here. I’ve had enough. I didn’t sign up for this bullshit. The deal was he doesn’t do anything I don’t like, or the deal is off. He just did something I detest. I absolutely will not allow him or any other man to talk to me like that. No matter how hungry my body is for him, I simply won’t allow such abuse. Maybe I’m not built to be someone’s sex toy. I’m too independent and free-spirited to be anybody else’s sidekick. He can go find himself another pliable sex toy to bully.

‘You’re an arrogant bastard, Zane. How dare you speak to me like that in front of other people?’ I fume, striding towards the door.

He stands in my way, magnificent and menacing. ‘I’ll speak to you how I like. I own you.’

I gasp. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you. You
don’t
own me.’

‘Yes, I fucking do,’ he snarls. His arm shoots out and he yanks me to him.

My new shoes lift off the ground and my body slams into his, knocking all the wind from my lungs. Stunned, I stare up into his furious face. There is a muscle ticking at the side of his jaw. His eyes are impenetrable as his head swoops down, and his lips crush mine in an angry kiss.

His mouth is hot and wild.

Intoxicated, I open my mouth and emit a low moan. His tongue forces its way in instantly. The kiss is my salvation and my torment. It’s more than anything I could have imagined. It’s magic; like when I sat on a hill right in the middle of a summer storm and saw lightning crash through the sky and felt it in my veins.

He draws my tongue into his mouth and sucks on it. I feel as if I’m floating on air. No matter what happens after this, I know I will carry the memory of this first kiss for the rest of my life. I will die with it still on my lips.

Like an addict, my arms reach up and tangle helplessly around his strong neck. I feel the hardness of his shaft press into my belly.

He pulls away. My head swims as I lean away to take in his face, contorted with lust, hunger, possession and feral ownership. We stare at each other, both of us breathing hard. For that time his mouth was on mine the world itself ceased to turn on its axis, or even exist. Never in a billion years did I expect it to be like this between us. It is absolutely, unquestionably awesome. Every fiber of my being just aches for him.

‘You wanted to see me lose control? Now you’ve seen it,’ he says tightly.

I shake my head. My anger in shreds. I have no words.

A bitter half-smile crosses his face. ‘Not a pretty picture, huh?’ 

I stare up at him with wide eyes, exploring and learning. There is so much to know and so little time. A deep angry flush colors his face and his eyes are molten with angry emotions, but it only makes him even more impossibly sexy and attractive. ‘You shouldn’t talk to me like that in front of people,’ I whisper.

His face is hard and unapologetic. ‘You shouldn’t disrespect me in front of my business associates.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘My world is a ruthless one, Dahlia. Let someone think you’re soft for a bit of pussy, and you’re signing your own death warrant.’

The thought makes my blood curdle. ‘I didn’t think of it like that.’

‘You have nothing to do with my businesses. The less you know the better. Don’t make yourself valuable to my enemies. I wouldn’t trade your innocent life for my worthless one.’

Still dazed, I nod. He called his life worthless!

‘Good,’ he says softly.

He walks me backwards in a hard, rough tango, and twirling me around, bends me face down on a sofa back. My elbows are pressed into the cushion of the seat and the hard wooden frame of the sofa digs into my midriff. I can smell the sprays the cleaners have used on the upholstery. He flips my dress over my back and I feel his eyes on my naked ass and splayed legs.

I hear him draw his breath in harshly. He lays his palm on one cheek and strokes it gently. God, I’m
so
wet. In the silence of the room I hear the sound of a zip tearing open in a hurry, and the whisper of his clothes being roughly pushed aside.

I shiver as he grasps my hair and pulls my head up. I pant as he leans down and drags his fiery mouth from the base of my ear all the way down to my collarbone. He even licks the pearl choker.

‘What does it feel like to be so beautiful, so fucking tempting that men are helpless to resist you?’ he mutters.

I don’t answer him and he yanks at my hair. ‘Tell me, my little cock tease, what does it feel like to swan around knowing your hot, little pussy is driving me crazy?’ he asks.

My mouth hangs open, my breaths come so fast and hard they sound louder than his voice. ‘I don’t believe for a minute that you are helpless to resist me,’ I pant.

‘No? Then tell me why I’ve been dying to lick your pussy all day.’

‘You have?’ I ask incredulously.

‘All fucking day.’ His hand pulls my zip down to my waist and slips into my dress to roll my nipple between his fingers. The sensation is immediate and electric.

He pinches my nipple. I whimper with the mixture of pain and pleasure and feel that undeniable aching, festering insistence between my legs. My thighs tremble with excitement and anticipation.

‘P … please,’ I groan, almost in tears with need. ‘Don’t tease me.’

‘Have you been thinking of my cock inside you, little fox? In your mouth, in your tight pussy and your hot ass.’

I make an incoherent sound.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he urges, his breath steamy.

‘I want you to fuck me. Hard.’

His erection rubs my naked ass, hard and angry. ‘Where?’ he asks.

‘Every fucking where,’ I cry in frustration.

He slips a finger into me. A strangled sound escapes my throat. I feel like I am gasoline about to combust.

‘And why do you want that?’ he asks softly.

‘Because you own me,’ I groan.

‘That’s right. Every. Fucking. Inch. Tell me all this is mine.’

‘It’s all yours. Every last inch.’

He strokes my ass.

I’m not proud of it, but I swear at him with frustration.

‘Fuck it, Zane. Take me
now.
’

I feel like an animal. An animal in heat.  He hefts my hips and rubs the head of his cock up and down my slick folds, coating it in my juices. Goosebumps rise along my skin as I feel his cock force itself between my swollen lips, stretching me tight around his thickness. My hands dig into the sofa. Jesus, his erection feels as hard as stone.

‘Oh, God, yes,’ I groan as that smooth shaft slowly spears my body until he jams his full length deep into my pussy.  ‘Yes. Just like that,’ I moan, gripping the hell out of his massive dick. ‘Exactly like that.’

No longer gentle, he becomes exactly what I’ve always wanted. A rough god. He rams into me, his need overpowering, irresistible, savage, driving his cock deeper and deeper. With every thrust my juices spurt around his cock and soak my thighs. My muscles feel like beaten butter. My sobs and moans echo through the room and my body thrashes over the sofa as his entire cock goes in and out of me.

He reaches around so his fingers can play with my clit while he drives into me. Furiously. Relentlessly. All pretenses at civilization gone. We are just two animals fucking. Oblivious to the world around us.

My body starts to spiral out of control. ‘I’m coming,’ I shudder as the waves of contractions start. Vaguely I am aware of calling out his name again and again as I become a creature of ecstasy. I hear a roar. Then his cock jerks inside me and he shoots hot sperm into my body. He did it hard. As if he can’t help himself. As if this thing we have is a madness and this is the only cure.

Our bodies become still.

He rests his forehead against my back. Both of us are still breathing hard when he pulls out of me. I try to get up, but he lays his hand on my back. His cream trickles out of me. I twist my head to look at him. He returns his cock into his boxers and zips up. With a lush smile he slips a finger into me. More of his cream gushes out of me. He smears it all over my sex, thighs, and behind my ears. Then he pulls my dress down over my ass, his hand lingering on my flushed curves. He zips up my dress and pulls me off the sofa.

‘Shall we go?’ he asks.

‘Steady on,’ I say with a wobbly, crazy, impractical, fucked-up smile. ‘I’d like to wash and freshen up a little first.’

‘No, you smell and look exactly the way I want you to. I want every man who looks at you to know you’re mine.’

My knees go weak.
Oh my! You are in so much trouble, Dahlia
. ‘You sound like a dog marking its territory.’

‘That’s exactly right. I’ve left my scent on what I own.’

‘But there’ll be a wet spot on my dress.’

He smiles. ‘And so there will be.’

Dahlia Fury

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1cQh1ccqu8M

A
quick look at the big mirror over the fireplace shows me a woman with two spots of high color on her cheeks, swollen lips, and glittering eyes. Her hairdo is most definitely lopsided. There is no freaking way I am going anywhere without repairing that, at least. I pull the pearl pin out, comb my hair out with my fingers, and leave it loose. I turn around to look at Zane. He is standing very still in the middle of the room just watching me. I was so angry before it did not hit me how darkly handsome he looks in a faultlessly cut black suit and a midnight-blue shirt. Like a fallen angel, actually.

‘Have I told you that you look ravishing tonight?’ he asks.

Wow! First compliment. Butterflies are going mad in my tummy, but I affect an air of sophistication. ‘Not in so many words.’

‘Well, you do.’

‘Thank you.’ Then more softly, ‘You look kick ass hot yourself.’

He smiles slowly, sexily. ‘If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to have to bend you over the sofa again.’

How crazy, I actually want him inside me again, but my stomach rumbles. I walk towards him, my hips swaying, my eyes fixed on his. I stop in front of him. ‘Feed me first.’

‘Good idea,’ he murmurs. ‘Let’s fatten you up before the great feast.’

I look at him through my lashes. ‘You speak as if I’m on the menu tonight.’

His fingers tease the nape of my neck. ‘You’re the special for all of this month,’ he says, with the dark smile of a predator.

That reminder hurt. A lot. I suck in a quick breath and avert my eyes.   He doesn’t know how his words affect me.

Zane helps me into my coat and opens the door. We find Noah cooling his heels in the hallway. As soon as he spots us he goes into full security mood, nodding at Zane and simultaneously talking in Russian into his earpiece as he starts moving towards the front door. He opens it and goes out before us, his head turning from side to side, his big body moving quickly down the steps. He opens the back doors of a long Mercedes with blacked out windows and waits for us.

Yuri is already in the street and two other men I do not know are getting into the two cars parked in front of and at the back of the Mercedes. The faultless precision of all their movements surprises me. It’s like watching something from a movie.

Slightly awed by the seriousness of the procedure, I slide into the backseat of the Mercedes and Noah closes the door with a firm click. Zane walks around and gets in on the other side. I have never been in a car with tinted, presumably, judging by the elaborate security measure I have just witnessed, bullet proof glass windows. Bizarrely it feels cozy and expensive. I turn to look at Zane.

‘Wow,’ I stage whisper.

He looks at me with his smoldering eyes. ‘What?’

‘What are you scared of?’ I tease.

‘I’m scared of how much I want your pussy.’

My smile dies away.

He slides his hand under my dress and lets it move along my inner thighs. ‘Open,’ he says.

‘No, I really don’t want to arrive at the restaurant with a massive wet patch on the back of my dress,’ I protest with an unsteady laugh.

‘Open,’ he repeats sternly.

I bite my lip and part my legs. His fingers engage with my clit while he watches me.

‘I really don’t want to come right now,’ I gasp.

‘Too bad,’ he says callously.

He carries on until my body buckles and I’m on the verge of coming, when he suddenly stops.

‘You’re not going to finish what you started?’ I blurt out.

‘We are nearly there,’ he says casually, and pulling out a fresh white linen handkerchief, wipes his fingers.

I stare at him dumbfounded, my clit throbbing madly. ‘You could have finished. We’re not there yet,’ I complain.

‘I know, but I enjoy seeing you frustrated,’ he says cruelly.

My jaw drops. ‘That’s not nice.’

‘I’m not…  nice.’

I turn my face away from him and fuming quietly, stare out of the dark windows. No more is said until we reach the restaurant, which, in fact, is only a few streets away from my workplace.

Uncle Ho has an awning made of bamboo and lots of bamboo plants in large round clay planters. The same elaborate security measures are taken before we can get out. Noah comes to open my door and Yuri opens the door for Zane. I snuggle deeper into my lovely coat. I feel a hand on the small of my back and Zane guides me to the doorway.

We are shown to a lift where a large man is already waiting with the door open. We get in and it takes us all the way to the top floor. The lift door opens and, wow! The entire rooftop has been turned into a giant conservatory with a vaulted ceiling. Through the glass ceiling I can see the inky night sky full of stars.

A wiry, white-haired man in an immaculate cream suit and a thin, pink tie comes up to welcome us. He has a deep tan. He could be European. His eyes are sharp and they keep darting around the restaurant as he speaks to us.

‘Would you care for an aperitif at the bar?’ he asks, smiling, his head tilted in a half-bow. His accent is pure French.

‘Yes,’ Zane says without consulting me.

I should have been irritated by the impervious way he had decided for me, but I am too awed and fascinated by my surroundings to make any kind of issue. The décor is a meticulous and impressively successful attempt at recreating a lush Asian garden. There is a profusion of exotic plants and flowers. Beautiful, colorful orchids sprout out of halved coconut husks and the bark of trees. There are giant ferns, hanging creepers and a rocky pond full of large koi.

We have to cross a sweet wooden bridge built over a stream to get to the bar area. I notice the bar is made entirely from frosted glass, and looks like a massive ice sculpture. All the chairs are over-the-top thrones, with flamboyantly rich and colorful upholstery.

We are shown to a glass-topped table.
How You Remind Me
by Nickelback is playing in the background as I slip into one of the marvelous chairs … and holy cow, it is easily the most comfortable chair I have ever rested my ass on.

‘We have to find a way to take one of these chairs back with us,’ I joke, leaning back and feeling like a Queen. I haven’t forgotten that he left me high and dry at the back of the car, but I plan to bide my time and take my revenge when the opportunity presents itself.

‘Take it if you want,’ he replies with an offhand shrug.

‘What?’

‘If you want the chair I’ll have it sent over to your apartment.’

I stare. The idea was kind of gross. Like a big kid stealing candy from the smaller children. ‘Are you able to just walk into any restaurant and demand their furniture?’

Zane looks at me strangely. ‘This is my restaurant, Dahlia.’

My eyebrows fly upwards. ‘This is yours?’

‘Hmmm …  what’s so surprising about that?’

‘Well. I never expected you to have an Asian themed restaurant called Uncle Ho. I mean. You’re so … Russian. Russian breakfast. Russian staff. Russian artwork.’

An exotically beautiful woman in a red and white pants suit brings us both food and drinks menus. I open the drinks menu and there are at least fifty different vodka cocktails to choose from. I dither between Agent Orange and White Russian, but eventually decide on the latter. Zane has the Moscow Mule.

‘Well,’ I prompt after the woman leaves us. ‘What made you open such a restaurant?’

‘It’s actually inspired by Ho Chi Minh,’ Zane explains.

I frown. I’m sure I’ve heard of him before. ‘Isn’t he some kind of Vietnamese Communist?’ I ask.

‘I’m glad to see they teach you world history in America,’ he observes mockingly.

‘Why? Don’t they teach world history in Russia?’ I retort.

‘Yes, but we probably learn a different …  um …  version than you do.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You recognize him as some kind of Vietnamese Communist, I know him as a great revolutionary figure.’

I look at Zane, curious and intrigued. ‘There are so many great revolutionary figures. Why him particularly?’

His eyes glint and his lips seem very red and erotic. ‘I admired his ferocity. He took on the French Union and won.’

‘So you admire ferocity in a man?’

‘Ferocity gets you what you want.’ His gaze hasn’t unlocked from mine. I feel mesmerized by his raw beauty, but the subject we are talking about is important. 

‘Maybe in your world, but not in mine,’ I whisper fiercely.

‘You don’t think ferocity rules your world?’ he asks with deceptive softness.

I look deep into his icy, dispassionate eyes. Yes, he is strong, and rich with power and wealth, however I saw something in his eyes once. Just once, but it was enough for me to know ghosts blew through the deserted corridors of his soul like gusts of cold wind.

‘I know it doesn’t,’ I say clearly.

He says nothing, just smiles, calm and cool.

The waitress comes with our drinks. My White Russian is not what I expected. It is not the color of milky-coffee I am used to. Instead it comes in two layers, the Kahlua in a rich brown bottom layer, and the cream and vodka as a glossy-white top layer. There are little rectangles of Kahlua jelly resting on the surface of the concoction. I use the two little black straws to stir the drink and watch the Kahlua swirl into the white layer.

He lifts his glass in my direction. ‘To ferocity.’

I copy the action, but not the words. ‘To kindness.’