Paying The Bratva’s Debt

lawyer schooled in land trusts and zoning laws, for your project.”
My mouth thins. He actually makes a very interesting point.
“At least consider it, Viktor.”
“Perhaps.” I drag my fingers over my jawline and look back at him. “You may be right. She may be useful there.”
“You should listen to me more often—”
“But you’re wrong about one thing.”
He reaches over and pours a splash of the whiskey into a new glass. “What’s that?”
“This is my house. On the outskirts of the city that I own. Just like I own a debt that is yet to be repaid.” I smile thinly. “So believe me when I say that there is nothing ‘forbidden’ about her. Not where I’m concerned.”
I ignore Lev’s arched brow as I turn and wordlessly storm from my office. I head right for Fiona’s quarters. But none of the steps I take towards her room lead me any closer to deciding if I’m going to throw her out or throw her into my bed.

5 Fiona
“This is you,” Nina mutters when we stop in front of a set of double doors. She swings them open, and I gasp.
Wow.
The room—or I should say rooms—are stunning. Wainscoted walls, gorgeous hanging light fixtures, gleaming hardwood floors, and flowers everywhere. I follow her inside, gaping at the trappings. I come from a lot of money, and my father spared no expense with his townhouse. But this is on another level entirely. This isn’t just wealth; this is a lot of wealth.
Nina leads me through another set of double doors, into a lavish, gorgeous bedroom.
“Bedroom,” she says dryly. For whatever reason, she’s clearly got a chip on her shoulder about me. She walks across the room and opens two more double doors. “And clothes.”
I stare at the room beyond that’s almost the same size as the huge bedroom. Only this one is lined with rows and rows of hanging clothes, dressers, and shoes.
“Anything else you need?” Nina says with a tone that screams “say no.”
“No, I’m fine,” I say quietly.
“Oh, here.” She suddenly hands me my phone. My brows arch as I take it from her.
“Can I use it?”
“Yes, but it’s being wired through the house’s security team.”
I frown. “Does that mean someone is listening if I make a call?”
She gives me the first real smile I’ve seen from her yet. “It does. And reading when you send a text. This is for Mr. Komarov’s protection.”
“I see.”
“It would be best that if you must call or communicate with anyone, you…” she smiles. “Lie.”
“For a month?” I say dryly.
Nina just smiles. “If there’s nothing further, goodnight.”
She turns and walks out, leaving me alone with my racing heart and swirling thoughts. I turn slowly, drinking in the room. I walk over to the bed and run my fingers across the luxuriously silken duvet. Through a doorway, I find an enormous, elegant bathroom—all white towels, silver, and crystal. It’s like I’m being kept in a princess’s apartment or something.
I head back into the bedroom and go to check out the closet. I glance at the size on one of the elegant gowns hanging up, and I frown: it’s my size. The one next to it is, too. My pulse quickens as I check more and more garments. But they’re all that way; they’re all exactly my size. Dresses, tops, jeans…even the freaking shoes lining the shelves are exactly my size.
“How the hell…”
I frown and move across the room. I stop in front of a tall dresser filled with thin drawers. I pull one out and blush at the row upon row of lacy, delicate panties. I quickly shut it. But the drawer beneath is the same. As is the one above it. The whole dresser is filled with elegant lingerie of every possible kind—panties, bras, slips, stockings, and far far more intimate ones. I feel my face burn hotly as I glance at a few of the tags. Unsurprisingly, like everything else, they’re all my size.
I stand there, staring at it all before I slowly back away. I tremble and glance around like I’m being watched. I retreat back into the bedroom and pick up my phone. I remember what Nina said about it being monitored, but I open it anyways. Scrolling to Zoey’s number, I push the call button.
“Where the fuck did you go?!”
I sigh with relief at the sound of her voice.
“Hey! I’m…” I frown. I want to scream and tell her what’s just happened to me—all of it. I mean what are they going to do, shoot me?
“Zoey, the craziest shit just happened—”
“Yeah, you left me in the lurch at your own graduation party! Do you have any idea how many times Chet Brubaker came sniffing around asking me where you were?”
I cringe. “I’m so sorry—”
“And when he finally stopped asking about you, he started asking me what I was doing tonight.”
I grin. “And?”
“Not getting roofied and assaulted by that scuzz bucket, that’s what I’m doing.”
I giggle before I trail off. I glance around at my surroundings.
“Well?”
“Hmm?”
Zoey sighs. “Where the hell are you? I even went and asked your dad. But he gave me that lame politician’s non-answer answer.”
“I—” I close my eyes. I want to tell her. But I know I can’t. Forget my own safety… what’s going to happen to her if I tell her all about what’s going on with me being dragged away to the home of the dangerous Russian kingpin?
“I got a call from the recruiting head of this firm, and they really wanted me to come to dinner.”
Zoey shrieks into the phone. “That’s amazing! Oh my God, congratulations!”
I smile, feeling guilty for lying. “Uh, thanks.”
“So when are you done? I could meet you back at your dad’s for a drink or something?”
I wince. “Yeah, uh… I can’t.”
“Uh, lame. Tomorrow then?”
“Can’t.”
I groan. What am I going to do, keep this up for a month?
“Okay, when does your schedule—”
“The firm is in New York,” I blurt out. “They, uh, they flew me out. For the week.”
“The week!?”
“Two weeks,” I lie through