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Fuck, I should have fucking shot her already. She was right when she said my men will be pissed about it. The money is the only flimsy excuse keeping me from being under tighter scrutiny than I already have been from them. Money, they understand.

They wouldn’t understand that I can’t fathom taking this beautiful girl out back and putting a bullet in her head. I’ve never hurt a woman. I’ve never even considered it. And I don’t plan on starting now.

Which is why I need dear old Dad to fucking pay up, and quickly, so I can get her out of my house. Because if he doesn’t…

Fuck. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

And she’s far, far too perceptive. My men’s lips are too loose, clearly, talking too close to her room to not be overheard, but she’s piecing things together that she shouldn’t be.

Volkov is pushing. Testing my authority. Waiting to see if I'll crack under the pressure of holding territory. And instead of handling it the way I should—with brutal efficiency and absolute focus—I'm standing in this room, checking on a woman who should mean nothing to me beyond her ransom value.

"Don't I?" She tilts her head slightly. The movement is small, but it feels like a challenge. Everything about her feels like a challenge. "You've been distracted since you brought me here. Your men are worried. I can hear it in their voices when they think I'm not listening. Someone's making a move and you're?—"

"Enough." I take a step closer. She doesn't back away, like I’d thought she would, and now I’m far, far too fucking close to her. She smells like whatever expensive shit my staff stocks the guest rooms with, something that smells like flowers and beaches and makes me think of how I’d fuck her on a towel under the hot sun while waves lap at our feet.

Things I don’t need to think about. Things that make my cock strain painfully at the fly of my trousers, distracting me and making me angrier than before.

I’m the fuckingpakhanof the Petrov Bratva. This little brat isn’t going to get the best of me.

"You think you understand because you hear conversations through a door? You think you know my organization because you're smart enough to piece together fragments?" My jaw clenches. “This is not your business,Soplyak.”

"You made it my business when you grabbed me off that street."

"I told you to mind?—"

"I am minding it. This is me minding my own survival. If your organization falls apart while I'm locked in this room, what happens to me?" She glares up at me. “If you’re gone, your men are going to kill me. After they do other things first, probably.”

Just the thought of my men touching her makes anger flare through me, and nothing has actually happened. I can feel my hands clenching into fists, my teeth grating together, the desire to kill sweeping through me as if they actuallydid.

I feel myself sway toward her. “It doesn’t work like that,” I grit out. “In two days you’ll be out of here. Long gone, beforeanything that could happen, does. And nothing will happen to you.” I glare down at her. "I don't lose control."

She sniffs, shrugging up at me. "You're losing it right now."

The words land like a match on gasoline. I sway toward her, drawing in a long breath of her scent. God, she smells fucking good. I want to bury my face in her hair while I bury my cock?—

Fuck.“You don’t know anything about control,” I growl, and her eyes flash up at me with a challenge, like she feels it, too. Like she can’t stop herself any more than I can.

“Do you?”

I grab a fistful of her hair, drag her mouth up to mine, and kiss her.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I needed her to stop talking. Needed to feel her mouth on mine. I need…

My cock is so goddamn hard. I need to come, and I want to do it inside her. In her mouth, her pussy, anywhere she’ll let me in. I bite at her lower lip, swallowing up her small cry of pain before I push my tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She tastes like coffee and citrus, and I want to devour her whole.

And then… I feel her kiss me back.

Her hands come up to my chest. For a second I think she's going to push me away, but she doesn't. She grabs my shirt instead, fists the fabric like she needs something to hold onto, and opens her mouth under mine.

She’s like a fucking drug. Just this one moment of her submission to my touch has me starving for more. I don’t know what it is about her, but I want her more than I can ever remember wanting a woman. Lust pounds through my veins, hot and heavy, my cock throbbing. I can feel pre-cum trickling down my shaft, soaking through my boxer briefs. I haven’t been this hard, this feral, in…

Maybe never. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted like this. And I shouldn’t want her. She shouldn’t even be here. She’s a problemto be fixed, a bratty, mouthy girl who could undermine my control of my organization even more…

I slide my other hand around her throat as I back her up against the desk. My fingers curl lightly against her, squeezing the slightest bit. Her breathing stutters, and she moans, her fingers clutching at my shirt. Her tongue tangles with mine, and I feel her pulse speed up against my palm.

I could have any woman I want, except for her. I shouldn’t want her. Shouldn’t have her.

If the guards outside hear, I could say… what? That she’s a prize I’m allowed to take, if I want it? I’m thepakhan. I can fuck my captive if I want.