Paying The Bratva’s Debt

and quickly. “My name is Oleg,” he grunts in totally natural English. “And I was born in Queens.”
I cringe. “Oh God, sorry!”
But he just smiles and helps me out of the car. When he steps away, I look up at the crumbling old building we’ve parked near.
“What do you think?”
“I…” I frown. “I think it’s a toxic waste site that’s going to put a big dent in your savings.”
He smiles. “Perhaps it will.”
“Well, at least I’m sure whatever you’ve got planned for it will be profitable.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because most criminal operations are?”
Viktor frowns curiously. “I’ve told you what my plans are for this place.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes.
He smirks. “You don’t believe me.”
I shrug.
“Here.” Viktor passes me a folder of permits and the legal paperwork. “It’s all in there. My plans are quite on the surface.”
“The ones on the surface usually are.”
“Would you rather wait in the car?” he mutters.
“Oh, no, I’ve always dreamed of touring a toxic hazard site.”
The hint of a smile crosses his face. “This way then.”
I follow, walking gently over some of the construction rubble. It’s not like this place is Chernobyl. There’s not raw asbestos lying around or anything. It’s just considered to be tainted ground by the city and the EPA. So, we don’t need hazmat suits, but we just probably shouldn’t plan to eat any food planted here until after the cleanup.
As we walk, I glance over the permitting. There’s stuff in here for dormitory houses, a massive cafeteria fit for a university campus, gym facilities, outdoor sports field, a pool, and… I frown and then look up at him.
“You’re building a school?”
He shrugs. “I told you before what I was doing here.”
“Yeah but…”
“But you didn’t believe me.”
I blush. “Maybe not entirely.”
Viktor stops and turns to me. His eyes drink me in curiously, and he steps closer as my heartbeat quickens. “Do you not find me trustworthy?”
“Why wouldn’t I find you trustworthy, Viktor?” I breathe.
He smiles thinly. “Aside from being a bad, bad man?” he growls, stepping even closer. “I have no idea.”
I quickly glance around and realize how far we’ve walked from Oleg and the car. We’re alone around the other side of the building that will eventually come down, in the shadow of some rubble. My pulse quickens even more, and I glance up at him. My face is a mix of fear and desire.
“If I’d planned something nefarious, Fiona,” he growls. “I live in a fourteen-thousand square foot house that I can have emptied of people with a snap of my fingers. I needn’t have driven you all the way out here.”
I swallow, looking up at his face. “So why did you?” I whisper.
He smiles thinly. “Perhaps it was for something nefarious.”
I tremble. A dangerous flirtation flickers inside of me. “Like shooting me or something? Putting me in a shallow grave?”
Viktor steps right into me. I gasp as his hand slides over my hip, pulling me against him.
“I could perhaps think of far more fun things we could do,” he growls quietly. “And still be bad.”
I tremble, feeling the heat pool between my thighs. I want him—very much so. Viktor’s hand tightens on my hip. It’s like a direct trigger to something warm between my legs. I take shaky breaths, quivering under his touch. He leans close, and my heart flips as his lips brush mine. I gasp quietly.
And then, his phone rings.
He scowls, pulling back as I groan to myself. He glances down and swears in Russian.
“I’m sorry, I… it concerns this project.”
“Oh, yeah,” I breathe haltingly. I can’t tell if I’m frustrated or relieved that we were interrupted. “Yeah of course.”
He eyes me hungrily, puts the phone to his ear and walks away around the corner. I exhale in a whoosh, trembling. Okay, yikes. What the hell am I doing? Why and how am I playing flirty games with a man like Viktor Komarov?
It was just days ago, though it feels like months, that Zoey and I were joking about Chet Brubaker being creepy. But here I am alone in the shadow of an abandoned building with Chicago’s most brutal and fearsome crime kingpin. And I’m desperately wishing he would kiss me. Or do a whole lot more than kiss me.
I blush darkly. I wonder if he knows how many “firsts” he’s been so far. I roll my eyes. No, of course he doesn’t. No one normal assumes a twenty-two-year-old is a virgin. Let alone hasn’t ever been kissed before.
I turn, daydreaming as I stroll back around one of the piles of rubble. My imagination takes hold and I visualize Viktor ending his call. He comes back to look for me and then follows me here around the corner. I tremble, imagining his hands clutching me from behind—maybe pinning me against the stone wall in front of me. I picture him slowly peeling my jeans and my panties down and running his hands over my bare skin. I imagine his mouth on me, his hands… and then I imagine him fucking me, right here.
I blush as I roll my eyes. Right. My first time. With a Bratva kingpin. In the environmental hazard site of an abandoned factory. How romantic.
I bite my lip. But maybe I don’t need or even want romance. Maybe I just want Viktor, knowing that comes with an edge of danger, not a bed of roses and candlelight. Maybe the roses and candles are just a movie thing. When I think about it, and when the heat throbs through my core, I realize I wouldn’t actually be against the idea of my first time being just like my fantasy just now.
I exhale and turn to lean against the half-demolished wall. I think that I should go find Viktor again, when suddenly I hear voices. I startle, my ears pricking. It’s coming from the other side of the wall, around the corner. At first, I think it might be Viktor and Oleg. But as they get closer and a little