“No.”
“Doesn’t he have to go to work or something?”
She narrows her eyes. “If you’d gotten past that first page in the document, you would’ve seen for yourself.”
And with that, she turns and leaves, her heels clicking down the hall. I really don’t want to call someone a bitch, but Ogla is heading in that direction with flying colors.
After I get the iPad, I wander around until I find Adrian’s office. Since it’s on the ground floor and I’ve seen it from the garden, it doesn’t take me long to figure out where it’s located.
The door is closed and Ogla said I’m not to disturb him when he’s working, so I pace in front of it, then soon give up and choose to occupy my time until he comes out. It’s not like I’m dying for another confrontation with the devil.
There’s a small lounge area across from his office. I lie on my back on the sofa and kick my shoes away, sighing with contentment. One of my legs dangles from the armrest and I use my arm as a pillow as I read from the iPad.
Sure enough, as Ogla said, Adrian’s duties are outlined on the second page of the document. His job consists of finding the right people to bribe for the brotherhood. His critical intelligence allows Sergei Sokolov’s Bratva to be ahead of all other criminal organizations. Since he performs more of a background role, Adrian usually works from home and rarely appears in public.
Criminal. Check, check, and check.
Not that I expected anything different. After all, he did frame me for murder ever so easily.
I scowl at his picture at the top of the page. He’s standing at some grand opening, wearing a tux and holding oversized scissors to cut a red ribbon. The asshole is too good-looking for his own good. He could be a bit shorter or have a beer belly. Hell, he could at least not be tatted. But no, he has to tick the boxes on all accounts.
The picture is mainly focused on him, but on his right, there’s a blonde woman wearing a sharp pantsuit and a firm smile. She’s stunning—so stunning that a weird feeling nudges in my gut at seeing her beside him.
I flip the pages to see if I can find her in the document. I don’t have to search for long. There’s a picture of her in a wedding dress, and an even stranger sense of relief hits me.
Rai Sokolov is the Pakhan’s grandniece and some hotshot in the brotherhood’s company, V Corp. As I study her, a nagging sensation different from the one from earlier takes hold of me.
I feel like I know her, but from where? Was she perhaps in one of the charities from whom Larry and I were given food?
The door of the office opens and I stare ahead to be greeted by a frowning Kolya. Adrian follows soon after and stops short beside his guard, his eyes darkening so fast that I’m left breathless.
What?
I stare down at myself in case one of my shirt’s buttons is undone or something.
“Get up,” Adrian orders.
“Why? I’m reading the document you gave me. If I don’t read it, I’m in trouble, and if I do, I’m also in trouble? Make up your mind.”
Adrian reaches me in two steps and grabs me by the arm, causing the iPad to fall onto the sofa. I squeal as he pulls me to my feet and undoes the knot of my shirt so that it blandly covers my ass.
I’m staring, speechless, when Kolya gives a curt nod and stalks down the hall.
“Don’t dress like this again.” Adrian’s voice is laced with a threat.
“I don’t like the wardrobe. It’s boring.”
He bunches my shirt in his fingers and pulls me against his chest. My hands land on his wall of muscles as my wide eyes clash with his cold ones. “I couldn’t care less about it being boring. You do not dress that way in front of my men, and you sure as fuck don’t lie down like you were just now. Is that clear?”
“I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“The big deal is that no one looks at you the way I do. No one gets a glimpse at what’s mine.”
There it is. The sense of ownership. The subtle obsession that he doesn’t show openly but can be felt, nonetheless.
“I’m not your thing, Adrian.”
“Is that a no, Lia?” His voice lowers and when I remain silent, he continues, “Did I or did I not say that you’re to do as I tell you? Or is your ass in the mood for another whipping?”
I glare at him, then quickly soften my expression because what I have in mind is more important.
Sucking in a breath, I smooth an invisible wrinkle on his shirt, something for which he narrows his eyes, probably questioning my motives.
I really need to do this right. If I raise his alerts, he’ll never grant me my wish.
“Fine,” I tell him. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Really?” he drawls out the word, blatantly stating he doesn’t believe me.
“Really. I don’t want to be punished again.”
“You don’t want to be punished,” he repeats, which I’m starting to think is his way of reading between the lines of my words.
“I don’t.”
“We will see.”
“If…” I swallow. “If I’m good, shouldn’t I be rewarded?”
“Rewarded. So that’s what you want. How do you wish to be rewarded, Lia?”
“It’s simple, really. For everything you’re pleased with, I get something in return.”
“You’re already getting a roof over your head, free meals, and immunity from prison. You think you can ask for other things?”
“That was the original agreement. You didn’t mention punishment back then, and yet you included them. I accepted them, so now, you should accept my suggestion.”
“Did you, though?”
“Did I what?”
“Accept your punishments.” His eyes are imploring mine so thoroughly that the feeling of being suffocated returns with a vengeance.
“Would it make a difference if I have?”
“Not really, no, but I’d like to know.”
“If it doesn’t make a difference, why would it matter if you know?”
“I’ll be able to assert whether I should break you in further, Lenochka.” His voice darkens with hidden intent. “So tell me, do I need to up my methods? Or have you smartened up to quit the habit of questioning me?”
I want to dig my nails into his chest, rip the surface open, and peer into his ribcage to see if he actually has a black heart. The more I talk to him, the surer I am that he feels no emotions. That he’s a devil with psychopathic tendencies only meant to wreak havoc on everything that stands in his path.
While I hate bowing down to him this easily, I have a purpose, and antagonizing him is the surest way to prevent me from reaching my goal.
What I show on the outside doesn’t matter anyway. On the inside, I completely abhor him, and that’s enough for my self-worth.
“I am getting used to the punishments. It’s only fair that rewards are included, too.”
“I don’t care about being fair.”
“Adrian, please.” I’m begging but saying it in an exasperated tone. “I promise not to ask for anything extravagant.”
“Still no.”
“Okay, let’s do it this way.”