The ride home was icily silent. Vlad allowed her to brood without comment or touch. Though she had been a cop for ten years, she wasn’t used to seeing such brutality from a person with whom she was emotionally involved. Jane stifled a bitter laugh. She never got emotionally involved with anyone, so her entire fucked up relationship with Vladimir Sitnikov was a novelty. If pressed, she couldn’t even begin to describe her own feelings toward the tall, dark mob boss. Fear. Lust. Hate.
"Is this why you didn't just take me when you had the chance? You wanted me to find out about my former employers? All those months ago, I practically dared you to fuck me on your doorstep. You wanted me to know he was in your pocket, but you didn’t want to be the one to tell me." Her voice wavered with pain and anger.
He looked across the length of the seat at her with cool disinterest. "That was part of the reason. At the time you weren't ready for me yet."
"And now I am?" she asked with a shiver.
"You are a good woman, Jane McKinley. I don't think you will ever be ready for a man like me."
Jane laughed bitterly.
“I’m just the best kind of woman. I led you right to Gruber and watched you shoot him. I’m staying in the same house with a known criminal and allowing you to take care of me, have sex with me,” she finished, her voice dripping with self-disgust.
His eyes became ice. “You will moderate your language, Jane, if you do not wish to feel the heat of my belt kiss your backside. An experience I will make sure you will not enjoy.”
Frustration and anger welled up inside Jane. She balled up her fists and smashed one into the leather between them, ignoring the way his body stiffened in warning. “Fuck you, Vlad. You don’t own me and you don’t get to tell me to moderate myself. You’re just… just a murderer and I’m just your whore.”
Jane didn’t really believe in regrets, but the instant the word ‘whore’ left her lips she regretted it. Vlad’s eyes turned from ice to fire. His gaze flicked to the front seat where Boris was steadily pretending not to hear them. She was getting so used to Vlad’s silent shadow that it didn’t even occur to her to think before speaking. Clearly it occurred to Vlad though.
Vlad rubbed his scarred chin with long fingers and said in a low calm voice that belied the tension snapping in the space between their bodies. “If you prefer to be my whore that is your choice. It will be my pleasure to show you the difference. I will show you how much I really do own you, Jane. At least your body.”
Jane shivered and pressed back into her seat. The implacable Russian never spoke without purpose. He would follow through on his promise. That much she had learned about him in her year-long quest to bury the man. She crossed her arms in front of her and wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into. She didn’t say another word. There was no point. She had already said enough.
Vlad said something in guttural Russian to Boris, who cast the Boss a sharp look in the rearview mirror before turning his stony gaze back to the road. Jane was too busy silently seething and planning in minute detail how to take down Vlad’s empire one illegal piece at a time to notice their detour until they were well into the glittering downtown district. She frowned and shifted in her seat to look out of the tinted window of the SUV. This was definitely the more well-to-do, swankier part of town. As a homicide detective, her job had rarely brought her among the privileged set that frequented these streets.
She raised an eyebrow as Boris turned the vehicle down a road that led toward the river and pulled into the garage of an obviously expensive, but tasteful brick fronted building that had been recently restored into loft apartments. The place oozed money, privilege and old world charm. Very much Vladimir Sitnikov's style.
She turned in her seat as Boris halted the vehicle and exited through his side to go around to Vlad's door. Jane turned to Vlad with a frown. "What are we doing here?" she asked.
He ignored her, reaching over to unbuckle her belt. Taking her by the arm, he pulled her across the seat toward him and hauled her out the door Boris had opened for them. Vlad didn't hurt her, but he wasn't gentle either. After their heated exchange, he was clearly not in the mood to indulge Jane. He used a key card to unlock an elevator, which opened immediately. Turning to Boris, Vlad dismissed him with cold finality.
Boris nodded and turned to leave, his gaze lingering on Jane's face. Confused, she followed Vlad into the elevator and watched Boris get into the SUV. He drove away while the elevator doors closed on them. Jane frowned and studied the floor of the elevator. She was sharp enough to understand that Vlad had probably brought her to an apartment he owned in the downtown district of the city. She was starting to suspect she understood why he would bring her here and dismiss his loyal enforcer for the evening. What she didn't understand was why he would leave himself so vulnerable to attack, just to teach her a lesson in humility.
He used the card and a code to unlock the elevator once it arrived on the fourth floor. As the doors opened she was unable to suppress an impressed gasp of awe. The building, which was probably once a warehouse, had been completely retrofitted into luxury bachelor apartments with sweeping ceilings and huge glass windows with expansive views of the river and city beyond. A massive bed dominated the room, leaving no doubt as to what the apartments main use was. It was a lovely space, though sparsely and coldly furnished. Nothing like the heavily Russian influenced mansion, as though Vlad didn't care about this space beyond an immediate need. Jane both loved and hated the apartment on sight.
"You bring your other women here," she said.
"Da," he confirmed, unnecessarily.
She decided if the place weren't attached to other people's homes she would burn it to the ground. She might anyway, depending on how much he pissed her off in the next little while.
"You don't take women back to the house, do you?" she asked a little hesitantly, wondering if she really wanted to get in this deep with him.
"Nyet," he answered immediately, and then gave her the answer she was most afraid of, "Only you, Jane."
She sighed heavily and, placing her hands on her hips, turned slowly on the spot taking in every inch of the luxury apartment, with its gorgeous views and prominent bed. "Okay, Vlad," she said, "point taken, we can leave now."
"I don't think so," he said coldly and took a menacing step toward her, reaching for the cuff links on his expensive suit. She watched, mesmerized, as he removed them one at a time and thought about how incongruous it was that he had so carelessly shot her ex-partner with the ease that he would order a meal in a restaurant, while wearing a $10,000 suit. She would have laughed at the absurdity of the thought, but she was fairly certain he wouldn't take her sentiments kindly.
"I want to go home Vlad. Now," she insisted, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off both the shirt and the jacket, draping them over the back of a chair that was pushed up against the marble kitchen island. "No Jane," he said, his voice low, the accent becoming more pronounced as he stalked toward her. "You want to be treated like a whore."
He stopped in front of her, his naked chest displaying the stark array of tattoos. The temple with its base of skulls looked more sinister than ever to her, reminding her that he wasn't a pretend bad guy. He was the real thing. And she constantly mocked and defied him. She was only alive because something about her caught his attention to the point of obsession. She tilted her chin and glared up into his dark, soulless eyes, daring him to do his worst.
His lips pulled back in a thin, feral grin. He spread his arms wide, "This is where I bring my whores, where I fuck and suck and then leave. Sometimes if they are good I will leave jewels and money. They like that, you know. Will you like that, Jane?" he asked.
She turned her head away in disgust, but he took hold of her chin and forced her to look up at him. She was reminded sharply of the ruthlessly determined man he had been when he'd first approached her in her tiny little apartment all those months ago and asked her to become his mistress. She wondered if he would have installed her here in this expensive, meaningless apartment. Her eyes filled with tears.
Vlad ignored her distress. Pitilessly, he spoke, "You have thrown my kindness in my face with your carelessly spoken words. You believe you are an ill treated mistress, Jane? I will show you what it feels like to be treated like a whore, to be here for one purpose only. You will satisfy me and expect nothing in return, except perhaps an expensive toy."
Anger washed over her, drying up her tears. "Fuck you, Vlad!" she snapped, raising a knee toward his groin.
He grabbed her knee and yanked it up past his hip, taking her completely off balance and throwing her backwards. Jane tumbled back and landed on the bed with a short scream. She came up fighting with a swiftness that would have taken anyone else off guard, but Vlad was used to her quick thinking and even quicker temper. He grabbed her fists and, holding them in one large hand, pulled them over her head and pinned them against the mattress. He straddled her body and held her down until she realized there was no point in struggling.
"You fucking criminal," she snarled up at him. "I hate you for this!"
Vlad leaned down, stretching full length across her body, carefully placing his heavy limbs over hers so she wouldn't be able to renew her attack. Her hair had fallen across her face and several strands had stuck to her lips. He traced her lips and gently pulled the hairs away, tucking them behind her ear. He leaned over her, trailing his lips across her cheek and pressing his nose into the space between her neck and ear.
He spoke softly in her ear, his hot breath drawing a shiver from her. "What do you hate more, Jane? That I brought you here?" he asked, lifting his body enough to force his hand down her front. When he reached her jeans he made short work of the snap and buttons. She gasped when, without preliminaries, he shoved his hand into her panties and pressed one long finger deep into her wet pussy. "Or do you hate how much you want me, no matter how badly you think you are being treated?"
"Oh God," Jane moaned, tossing her head restlessly against the bed, unconsciously trying to get away from his words.
"I think," he said, his voice going cold once more, "You don't know what to hate anymore so you choose to fight with me instead of yourself."
He sat up, releasing her hands. She brought them down immediately. He gave her a stern look that told her if she started fighting him again there would be swift and brutal retaliation.
"Vlad," she cried out when he began yanking her clothes off with little care for her comfort.
Jane felt cold and exposed with each lost item. She crossed her arms over her chest, but he wasn't having it. When he'd divested himself of his pants, he grabbed her legs and pulled her back down the bed until she was laying flat underneath him again. He took her wrists in his hands and pulled them away from her chest, exposing her puckered nipples. Jane turned her head to the side so she didn't have to look up at the blazingly angry eyes above her and so he wouldn't see her aching vulnerability.
"Look at me!" he snapped, his coldness beginning to give way to anger.
Jane turned her head and looked up at him, gritting her teeth. The magnificent body that could take her to heaven called to her, but the strange combination of cold fury within him repelled her too. He stared down at her and began guiding her legs apart with his knee. Helplessly, she reached up and clutched his forearms where they were braced on the bed next to her shoulders. She dug her nails in and bit her lip to keep the whimper of fear from escaping. He'd never treated her like this before. She found she was very much afraid of this side of Vlad.
"Are you my whore, Jane?" he asked, watching the flickering emotions cross her features.
She stared up at him. She knew what he wanted from her, but she hated the thought of giving into his demands. He slid his thigh across her pussy, stimulating her clit with the hair on his leg and drawing a gasp from her. Jane wiggled against him. She was turned on, like she always was with Vlad, but she didn’t want to be taken this way. Not in this bed, not in this place.
“Vlad…” she said, ready to give him what he wanted if he would take them away, back home where they belonged. But it was too late. He spread her legs and thrust into her, swallowing her sharp cry with a devouring kiss.
She whimpered against his lips as he reached down and wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled her up so she was sitting in his lap. Jane sat on him, her body stiffly taking his cock into hers though the fit was tight. Her eyes were closed and she wound her arms around his neck for balance. She bit her lip to stifle a sob as he lifted her hips and began forcing her up and down on his cock. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t brutal either. He was just… using her for his own pleasure. She could feel him swelling within her, close to coming.
“Open your eyes, look at me Jane,” he said huskily, his voice strained.
Jane opened her eyes, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. He reached up and wrapped long fingers around her neck and brought her face close to his. “Are you my whore, Jane?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. With a sob she shook her head and said, “No, I’m not.”
“No, you’re not,” he repeated shifting her in his lap so she was closer to him until her chest was pressed against his. “Never forget your place.”
Jane wanted to scream at him that she didn’t know her place, but she didn’t think she could take any further punishment. Instead, she dropped her face into the strong, smooth place between his neck and shoulder and inhaled his masculine scent while he came within her body, shuddering and holding her tight in his arms.
When he finished, he eased her back and laid her gently on the bed, brushing her hair gently away from her face. He pulled a blanket over her body before standing. “I’m going to shower, we can leave after.”
Jane nodded, afraid that if she spoke she would start crying and beg him to never ever treat her like that again. She knew she was partly to blame. But she also knew that she was unlikely to ever reconcile herself to Vlad’s lifestyle. She would never stop fighting him, and he, in turn, would never stop hurting her. Though her feelings for him were becoming more mixed up by the day, she knew she had to find a way to get out before she got in any deeper. The only way to leave a man as powerful as Vlad was to go with her original plan. Bury the mob boss.