MIKHAIL
It’s raining outside,pouring, and some girl who barely looks old enough to drink is standing by my gate.
Maybe she’s older than twenty-one. It’s honestly hard to tell with her blonde hair clinging to her body.
It still feels like winter, except it’s not snowing.
Where the hell is her coat? Or at the very least, an umbrella?
There is an abandoned vehicle not twenty feet away, its hazard lights flashing. That car should be put out of its misery. It’s probably older than the vanilla-blonde-haired girl in the back seat of the SUV.
Luka doesn’t look the least bit pleased to be bringing her inside the compound, but it is on my orders, and I’m the fucking Pakhan around here. I make the shots and tell my men what to do.
Luka is a good bodyguard. He obeys my commands and is loyal to a fault. He’d have married my sister and been given my blessing if she wouldn’t have turned on the family. That little brat runs with the Italians. She dared to have me arrested and put behind bars.
That’s not to say she didn’t have her reasons, but I’m no ordinary man. I run the bratva. I’m the Pakhan, the boss of the entire operation. My work is my life, and my family consists of my men. Their blood runs with mine.
I won’t be imprisoned, and neither will they.
I rule New York City, and I don’t intend to let anyone or anything stand in my way.
“Come inside, dry off, and we’ll get you on your way,” I say as I open the door for her and invite her into the back seat.
Her teeth are chattering and slightly blue.
“Thanks.”
I loan her my coat, trying to keep the back seat from becoming a pool, and help warm the girl up.
Luka pulls around to the garage entrance to keep us from getting wet. After he pulls the vehicle inside, he opens the back door for her to step out.
“Come with me,” I say, having her follow me into the compound.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let a stranger inside my home. Ivan would be expected to handle anyone outside the gate, but I’m feeling generous, and I find her soaking wet to be fucking hot.
She’s shivering and cold. The girl is vulnerable. I like women who are defenseless and weak. Not because I want to hurt them. No, I’m not that kind of monster.
I can help them and offer them a life they couldn’t ordinarily have—an opportunity.
But this girl hasn’t given any indication of her helplessness other than her broken-down vehicle, which did look pretty damn pathetic.
“I’m Mikhail,” I say, introducing myself as I open the door and lead her inside. “You should take off your shoes.”
She slips them off with ease. They’re black and slip-on, practical, which I’m not used to seeing. Usually, the girls who visit me wear fuck-me pumps and sexy boots that lace halfway up their legs.
Her socks are soaked and squish under her feet.
“Socks off too. I can’t have you making a mess in this place,” I say.
She obliges without so much as a word. She leans against the wall, and I grab her arm to steady her. I don’t need a giant wet butt print on the walls.
“Name,” I say when she hasn’t introduced herself yet. I’m a bit more forceful, but she’s focused on the task of removing one sock at a time.
Her toes are ghastly white from the wet clothes, which look even more stark against her bright red painted toenails.
“I’m Madisyn,” she says, her teeth chattering.
I steady her back onto her feet after her socks are removed.
“You’re soaking wet and need to get out of your clothes,” I say. I help her remove the coat I loaned her, and she doesn’t object.
Will she object when I tell her that she will have to remove everything in front of me? I can’t take a chance that she’s a cop or some girl wearing a wire trying to get information and have my ass thrown back in jail.
I’m doing everything I can to turn my life around. Well, stay out of prison anyway. It’s not like I’m going to start doing good deeds and being a good guy and all that shit.
That’s not how I operate.
Luka follows inside behind us. He glances briefly at Madisyn before heading down the hallway without so much as a word.
He knows to keep his mouth shut, but he’s not the least bit thrilled that I brought a stranger into my home.
Well, it is my home, and I can invite anyone I want inside. Besides, the girl is practically helpless and would get hypothermia before a tow truck shows up.
The sun is beginning to set, and the rain will undoubtedly turn to black ice. They’re calling for an ice storm tonight.
The blonde girl exhales a soft breath after I remove her wet coat.
“Come with me,” I say, ordering her to follow.
Wordlessly, she accompanies me down the hallway and stops as I begin the climb up the stairwell. “Where are you taking me?” she asks.
I stop on the third stair and turn around to face her. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
Madisyn’s hair is wet and tangled against her skin. Her clothes cling to her body, making her bra see-through and giving me an ample view of her breasts through the white cotton shirt.
She wraps her arms around herself, shivering.
“Come now, or I’ll carry you,” I say.
Her brow tightens, and she opens her mouth like she’s going to make some smart-ass remark. But instead, she grunts her answer, “Fine.”
Madisyn follows me up the stairs, and I escort her into my bedroom. Usually, I’d frisk a girl, make sure that she’s not hiding a weapon or wearing a wire, but it’s considerably apparent there isn’t much under her clothes.
Even so, being a bratva boss, one can never be too careful.
“Strip,” I command.
“What?” Her fingernails are digging into her forearms, her hands clenched.
“You need to get out of your wet clothes, and I need to make sure you’re not harboring a weapon,” I say. I forego the part about wanting to ensure she’s not wired. There’s no reason to scare her. She has no idea what I do for a living.
I stalk across the length of the room and open the drawer, retrieving a black t-shirt and sweatpants. They’ll be too big on her, but there’s a drawstring she can use to tighten them a bit.
In the meantime, I can have one of my men throw her clothes in the dryer while she warms up inside the house.