WHEN ARTUR CHARGED Mikhail with guarding Inna for a few hours during the night, he undoubtedly expected him to sit outside in his parked car, stakeout style, and watch the building. Mikhail had other plans.
He nodded at the doorman, who recognized him as a fellow employee of Artur’s, and let him pass without question. His natural confidence surged. He had no worries about getting caught, not when he had already gotten away with so much worse.
Sneaking behind Artur’s back—to seduce Maya, to create the scene at Troika, to join Aleksei in the “other” Koslovsky business—had all been accomplished so easily. A secret visit to Inna was mere child’s play in comparison.
If anyone later asked, Mikhail would claim he had been doing his job: He thought he had seen someone suspicious lurking around the building and came inside to investigate and assure himself she was safe.
He hadn’t seen anyone, but the rest was true. He would ensure her safety—from the Georgians anyway.
Tonight Inna had been friendlier, looser than usual. She hadn’t ducked away from him or found an excuse to be on the other side of the room. Attuned to the signs, Mikhail knew Inna had taken yet another special pill, not her usual medication, but one from the prescription bottle that had been swapped for hers and planted in her medicine cabinet.
Taking the pill, Inna had now unwittingly offered him the fantasy he had been forced to provide another man, one who didn’t deserve her. Visiting her wasn’t part of the original plan, but he couldn’t resist.
He didn’t bother knocking on Inna’s door. He didn’t expect she’d be fit to answer.
He pulled the key from his pocket and let himself inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
He found Inna passed out on the sofa. She lay on her back, eyes open and staring blankly at the ceiling, her hair an uncombed, matted tangle. She didn’t come out of her trance when he snapped his fingers in front of her face. Good.
Growing up in a Russian orphanage, Mikhail’s pretty face had been his saving grace. No one had adopted him and rescued him from that cinder-block hellhole, but he had been a favorite among the wardens. Treats and favors had all been his in a simple exchange that he had learned to turn to his advantage until sexual manipulation was as natural for him as breathing.
Tonight would be different. He wouldn’t have to perform for her, wouldn’t have to consider her enjoyment or pretend his own, wouldn’t have to count out the steps in his head to reach his goal. Tonight was for him, for his pleasure.
He hadn’t recognized how desirable Inna was, hadn’t realized her potential, until he’d seen her the other night at Troika sitting in Zviad’s lap.
Now, despite the faded hospital scrubs that draped her body, he easily imagined how she would look on his arm in a skimpy dress like the one she had worn last night. Leggy and fashionably thin, she had turned her share of heads, including Zviad’s. Plenty of men would envy Mikhail for having her on his arm, never mind that she was the one that came with the Koslovsky fortune.
Artur’s request for Mikhail to play bodyguard opened a new move on the chessboard. The lovely Inna was vulnerable now, in need of a hero.
Inna had always been skittish around Mikhail, seemingly repelled by the seductive charms he depended on to get his way. His fault. She had been away at college when he joined Artur’s organization. He had made his move on her as soon as she came home, hoping to use her to cement his place in the closest thing to family he had ever known. Too eager, he hadn’t watched her closely enough and hadn’t paid sufficient attention to see what a puzzle she presented.
He had grossly misjudged her, imagining a college graduate would be more experienced and open to suggestion. He had cornered her in the office and whispered naughty suggestions that would have made other women, even virginal or prudish ones, weak in the knees.
Inna wasn’t like other women. Instead, she had actively avoided him ever since, not giving him the chance to redeem himself and try again.
That was about to change. He had her number now.
Events would force her to stick close to him. She would undoubtedly feel grateful to the man who protected her from further harm and fall easily into his arms.
When he had thought he had Artur’s loyalty, Mikhail had convinced himself Inna didn’t matter to his goals. He had been content to leave her alone as long as he was secure in his place and got his due. Now that Artur had made the unforgivable mistake of relegating him to the sidelines, Mikhail planned to claim Artur’s little princess.
If he could lay claim to Artur’s greatest prize, the others would all be ripe for the taking. Getting a share was no longer enough, not when there was no loyalty and no family for him. Mikhail wanted everything he thought Artur had and possibly more. One way or another he would have it, all of it. Then he would crown himself king of Brighton Beach.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to start romancing Inna and put his newest plan in motion. Tonight, there was no reason to waste the effort on impressing her—or forego the opportunity that presented itself.
“Inna, princess, let me put you to bed.” He scooped her into his arms. Her head flopped heavily over his arm. He navigated the hall and doorway to the bedroom with care not to bump her head into the wall or door frame.
Inna’s bedroom was stark and modern, a platform bed and squared teak wood furniture, not what he would have expected from a designer who specialized in embellished interiors that harkened back to the Tsar’s Winter Palace.
Mikhail didn’t favor the simplicity of the design she’d chosen for herself. When they had a place together, he would insist she make it ornate, fit for a king and his queen.
Inna was entranced, sleepy and pliable, her expression vacant, maybe slightly pleasured. He slid off the green scrubs she’d worn home from the hospital and then straddled her and sat her up to remove her shirt. She wore the same lacy red bra she’d had on last night, the one that matched her thong and hinted at the naughty, naughty plans she might have made for her evening with Katya’s lawyer friend.
“Slut,” Mikhail said with a playful yank of her dark hair. Soon she’d be making those plans for him.
She turned her head and blinked at his forearm.
“Will you dream of me, Inna?” he asked as he bent to kiss her neck and worked his way down to her small, pert breasts. She lay still, not reacting at all when he suckled and then bit her nipple. He pinched the peak of the other between his fingers and twisted, hard enough to make most women gasp with pain, but Inna was far away in dreamland.
His erection pressed painfully against his zipper, and he ached for release as he nipped and squeezed at her, careful not to make a mark.
He couldn’t leave any sign or clue that would send her running back to the police for another round of forensics. That still left him quite a few options. His blood pumped with excitement. He reveled in the unlimited power he wielded over her.
He could do anything to her, and she’d never remember. No one would ever know. And tomorrow he would convincingly play her hero.