Vasilije had some choice words simmering under the surface, but he reined them in and stayed quiet.
Goran let out a noise of deep frustration. “I allow this and you fucking fall in line. You have a place in this family, and it’s beneath me.” He rubbed the tender spot where he’d been hit. “Beneath me, or nowhere at all.”
“I get it,” Vasilije spat out.
His uncle’s calculating gaze swung to me like I was garbage, and back to his nephew. “A Russian girl. I’m embarrassed for you.”
“Do your eyes not work? Why would I be embarrassed?”
Goran smiled, and alarm spiraled once more through my system. “All right,” he said. “Since you’re so proud of her, I expect you’ll be bringing her to Christmas Eve?”
Vasilije hesitated. Only long enough for us to see his reluctance. Then, an easy smile snapped into place, complete with his dimple. “Of course.”
“Wonderful.” His tone was full of sarcasm. He cast a final hard look at me, said something else in Serbian, and left. I remained in place, my hands supporting myself on the desk, and stared at Vasilije while we listened to the front door open and slam shut.
He jammed his gun back in the holster, but didn’t move otherwise. His posture was tense. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Except my voice was shaky, and I worried if I took my hands off the desk, I’d collapse. My heart was still pounding like a war drum. It’d been life and death in this room a few minutes ago, and I hadn’t recovered.
A concerned female voice rang out from beyond the office doorway. “Vasilije?”
“Everything’s all right,” he answered to Whitney. He took a cautious step, and somehow didn’t seem threatening for once. He asked it quietly. “What happened?”
“He said he needed to talk to me in private, and told me I had to do . . .” the words lodged in my throat, “whatever he wanted.” My gaze dropped down to my splayed hands. “There’s a gun in the bottom drawer. I thought I might have to kill him.”
Vasilije took a long moment to contemplate my statement, and . . .
He laughed.
“Fuck, you and me both. Good thing you didn’t. I’d have been pissed.” He delivered his perfect smile, flashing the dimples, but it was menacing. “I’m the one who gets to kill him.”
Should it have bothered me that he was the most attractive when he looked evil? A rush flooded through me. “That was the same thought I had when I went for the gun.”
“Goddamn, Oksana.” He swept toward me and dug a hand in the back of my hair, gently tugging me up to meet his gaze and caused me to peel my hands from the desk. My hair was the only place he physically had a hold of me, but his intense eyes kept me upright. He was touching me, but not really.
Almost . . . as if he were waiting for a signal it was okay to put his hands anywhere else on my body.
“You can touch me,” I said.
His eyes flared with hunger, and something that looked like desperation. “Like I need fucking permission.”
His mouth announced one thing, but his actions said the opposite. As soon as I’d given him approval, his lips sealed over mine and his hands seized my waist. I was fitted to him, pressed against his hardened frame until I could barely breathe.
Everything was spinning out of control.
The burn of his hands on my body was pleasurable and erotic. A strange sensation I enjoyed, and the discomfort made me feel alive. I shouldn’t want his touch, but I was already beginning to crave it.
“He comes near you again,” he said between his rough kisses, “and fuck my plan. I’ll murder him.”
I believed it.
I could have used the opportunity today to get close to Goran and follow my father’s order, but I’d made my choice. I was all in. With Vasilije, we could both get what we wanted. My father underestimated me, just as Vasilije’s uncle underestimated him, and hopefully it would be both their downfalls.
?
Saturday evening after dinner, Aleksandar showed up at the house. Vasilije had taken me on a second shopping trip during the day, buying me more clothes, some makeup, and—in a shocking move—a cell phone. The only two numbers programmed were John’s and his. Was it to keep tabs on me, or a way to call for help if his uncle came around again?
I was ushered into the back seat of the Lexus with Vasilije, John behind the wheel, and Aleksandar in the front seat like last time.
“Where are we going?” I asked, forcing casualness.
“Out,” Vasilije said.
He didn’t elaborate, withholding the information simply because I wanted it. He loved to keep me off balance.
After I’d calmed down from Goran’s visit yesterday, Vasilije and I had eaten lunch cooked by Whitney, and he’d had to return to the dealership to finish out the day. I’d tried to write, but spent most of the afternoon staring at the keys and trying to forget everything but the way Vasilije’s mouth moved against mine. It’d kept my anxiety away, but wasn’t enough to get the notes flowing again.