Unwilling Pawn by Measha Stone

Chapter 13

Christian

I downed the last of the brandy in my glass, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. Another glass and maybe I could erase Amelia from my thoughts. Though the first two hadn’t done any good. I could still see the arousal in her eyes when I’d ripped off my belt, the hunger when I’d ordered her to show me her pussy. And fuck if I would ever be able to forget the tenderness when she touched my face after she came.

Shoving out of my office chair, I searched out another bottle. Maybe I should switch to something stronger.

“Christian.” Lukas flung open my office door. “Good, you’re down here.”

“Where else would I be?” I asked, pouring a single finger of brandy. I wanted to dull my memory, not my senses.

“Upstairs. With your wife?” Lukas suggested.

I shrugged a shoulder. “She’s asleep by now, I’m sure.” I grinned. “I exhausted her.”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Probably bored the girl to sleep.” He put his hand up. “Leave it, we can argue later about your poor skills as a lover. Right now, we have an issue.”

I swirled the dark liquid around my glass. “What’s the issue?” Since our cousin fucked things up in Chicago, it could be many things.

“Dominik Staszek is here.”

That was unexpected.

“Why? We settled things with them when Piotr was put down.” I place my glass down on my desk. A clear head was needed now. The Staszek family had strong ties to the city. Our cousin had overstepped and caused problems, but a truce had been put in place. While I didn’t see them as a threat, I didn’t wish to socialize with them either.

“One of the Russian pricks went to him, he’s out back.”

“Out back? Why?” I headed to the door. There was only one reason Lukas would bring Dominik to the backyard and not my office. They didn’t want to mess my carpet.

When I stepped out onto the concrete patio, I spotted Dominik and three other men huddled in a far corner of the yard. The estate was fenced and well hidden from any prying eyes, but sound would still carry.

“Christian.” Dominik inclined his head in greeting. The moonlight hit his face, but more importantly, it lit the crumpled figure of a man on the ground.

“Dominik.”

“I understand congratulations are in order,” he said, coming to stand beside me, facing the injured man. With his face turned away from me, I couldn’t make him out, but the blood on his face shimmered in the moonlight.

“I suppose so.” I stepped forward, my two men and Dominik’s one stepped away as I toed the mess on my grass. “Who’s this?” I shoved his shoulder with my foot until he rolled to his back.

“Not sure about his name, but he works for the Romanovs.”

“And what is he doing in my backyard?” I asked, taking note of the broken nose.

“He’s been asking questions about your girl at the Music Box. My brother got wind of it.”

“News travels fast, doesn’t it.” Amelia’s only been with me for two days, and already it’s well known she belongs to me. It’s best that way, safer for her.

“Her cousin, Maggie, talks with Nicole—my brother’s wife.”

“Nicole.” My jaw tightened. If it wasn’t for that woman, Piotr might have kept his temper in check, and I wouldn’t be standing in Chicago at all.

“Nicole heard this guy talking about Amelia. It seems he’s been trying to track her down for a while.”

“How long?” My interested piqued. Amelia Dudek shouldn’t be anywhere near the radar of a Romanov family discussion.

“A while.” Dominik shrugged.

“So, why’s he all beat up?” I asked, toeing his shoulder again. The man was alive, but when he woke up and felt the extent of his injuries, he would probably hope he wasn’t.

“He pinched Nicole’s ass at the club.” Dominik huffed a laugh. “That, and he put up a fight when I told him I was bringing him to you.”

I turned back to Dominik. “I have no fight with the Romanovs. They do their thing and we do ours.”

“Yeah, but this one didn’t want to just talk to Amelia, he wanted to take her. The dumbass drank too much and was talking too loud.”

That did make things different. What would the Romanovs want with Amelia? She was the daughter of an investment broker who played dirty with his political connections. Her family had no ties to any Russian mafia families or Polish mafia either. Until now, that is.

She was very connected to the Kaczmarek family now.

“Lukas, take him downstairs.” I gave the order. My two men moved in and picked up the lump of a man, dragging him across the yard to a door on the far east wing. Lukas followed. They’d take him down to the cellar. By morning I’d know everything there was to know.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” I slapped Dominik on his shoulder. “Do you have time for a drink?” We began the walk across the yard into the house.

“No, but thank you.”

As we neared the porch, a figure stepped out of the shadow and into the golden spotlight. Amelia stood with her arms stiff at her sides, her eyes wide. She’d gotten dressed in a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a tank top, but hadn’t bothered with a bra. Her damn nipples peaked beneath the thin fabric.

“Who was that man?” Amelia asked the moment we were close enough to hear her.

“This is Dominik Staszek.” I turned her attention away from what was happening out of sight. “A friend of the family.” Not a complete truth, but true enough. The Staszeks weren’t enemies and that was as close to a friend as we would get.

Amelia glanced at Dominik, noting he was as large of a man as I was, and the blood splatter on his shirt. She tucked her hair behind her ears and folded her arms over her stomach.

“H-hi,” she said, taking a tentative step back when we moved forward.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kaczmarek.” Dominik inclined his head toward her. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your wedding night.” He glanced my way. “We’ll see ourselves out.” With a flick of his wrist, he and his men moved through the kitchen door and further into the house.

“Who was he?” she asked me the moment the patio door closed.

“You were supposed to be up in bed.” I slid my hands into my pockets. She’d washed the makeup from earlier off her face and her hair was damp. “Did you shower after I left?” I had told her to stay put.

“Who was that man? Why did your men take him—”

“You don’t have to worry about those things, Amelia. You should worry about your disobedience.”

Her eyes widened more, but this time anger took over, the fear she’d been trying to hide a moment ago completely washed away by my comment. If the lighting were better, I would probably have seen her cheeks redden.

“It was early. Barely nine o’clock. Too early to go to bed,” she countered.

“So, you showered when I specifically told you to lie down?”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what we’re talking about right now.”

“It is.” I moved closer to her and picked up a lock of hair, rubbing the damn strands between my fingers. “You showered. You washed away my come from your thighs.”

She jerked back, probably not expecting me to use such crass language outside the bedroom. She’d have to get used to it. I loved her blush too damn much to keep myself on any sort of leash around her. No matter where we were.

“You were just talking over a man’s bloody body and you want to talk about my bathing habits?”

I nodded. “I do when your habits are rebellious actions.”

“Rebellious actions.” She took a step back. “I’m not a child. I don’t rebel.” She shoved my hand from her hair.

I laughed; the girl was a complete contradiction. One moment fear controlled her movements, but now when boxed in by the beast she thought I was, she tried to show her claws.

“You didn’t unpack your bag, not even your shampoo,” I said. “It was the act of a rebellious little girl. And now you’ve washed away my come because you wanted to show me that you’re not going to obey my authority.”

She opened her mouth, ready to argue, I’m sure, but quickly snapped it shut.

“You said we were going to New York anyway,” she pointed out, a small pout settling on her lips.

“That doesn’t change anything.” I brushed my hand down her bare arm. “I have a question for you, and you need to be honest with me if you’d like to avoid going to bed with a very sore ass.”

Her jaw tightened. “What.”

“Do you know anyone with the last name Romanov?”

Her brow wrinkled. “No. Why?”

“Your father? Does he work with anyone by that name?” Her father kept her out of his business, but he underestimated her. She knew much more than he would ever give her credit for.

“No. I don’t think so. But I don’t know everyone he does business with.”

“But you know most of the men he does business with.”

Her expression softened. “I had heard your name before if that’s what you mean, but I didn’t know who you were. That first night, at the party. I didn’t know who you were.”

I studied her for a long moment. The lighting from the porch light struck the soft curve of her chin and the gentle slope of her nose in such a way she looked so innocent. Too innocent to be with a man like me.

“Are you sore?” I asked, moving my hand down her body to her hip.

She tensed beneath my touch, but her pupils dilated—betraying her.

“I’m fine,” she said, but she glanced away when she said it.

“Do you understand the difference I was talking about now?” I moved my hand behind her, squeezed her ass.

“You still haven’t told me who that man was. Why did your brother take him over there?” she shoved at me.

“And I’m not going to.” I sighed.

“Fine.” She forced herself past me. “I’m going to bed then.”

“Make sure you get into the right bed, Amelia.” I called after her, but she let the patio door slam behind her. She’d heard me—I noticed her shoulders rise.

She’d heard me, but would she obey me?