Taken By the Bratva Boss by Sarina Hart

Chapter Six

Olivia

I’ve agreed to his deal only because it’s marginally better than death or being stuck in a basement or whatever shitty warehouse he has on standby to keep his victims hostage.

There’s also the added benefit of being in his house where there’s likely evidence against him—an office or a private room—I can use to put him away. I can go to the police and tell them what I saw with McKenzie. Although, I have to agree with his reasoning if not his method.

He’s a criminal. Plain and simple. Although his denials about Denice are very convincing.

No. He’s dangerous. Deadly. And what his ass looks like in his pants as I follow him upstairs has nothing to do with his personality or whether or not his moral compass is pointing due north.

The ass, on the other hand, is extraordinary. Firm. Curved. Bitable. I moan.

And he turns to glance at me. Smiles like he knows what’s in my head. Like he knows I’ve had to curl my fingers into my fist to keep from grabbing a handful of criminal ass.

If I’ve reminded myself once, I’ve done it a hundred times. He’s a rapist. And if not, he’s a murderer, which is worse. Or at least, equal. He’s dangerous to me. I need to figure out how to remember that.

At the top of the steps, he turns left. “Kitchen.”

Obviously. If the stove and refrigerator hadn’t given it away, the smell of food would’ve. It’s savory. Divine. My mouth waters.

“Sloppy joes and tater tots, I’m sorry to say.”

Oh, but for me, sloppy joes and any potato is comfort food like no other. It’s safety. It’s security. It’s home. And as much as I want to dive in and enjoy, I can’t think of this place that way. Can’t associate this place with comfort of any kind.

I sigh. “I’m not hungry.”

Again, with the grin that makes me wonder if he can read my mind, but he adds a shrug now and it’s boyish and adorable and no way could a man who can pull off that look, and that smile, and that little lift of his shoulders, be the one who raped Denice.

He has twice my stride as he leads me through the house and I have to speed walk to keep up, so I don’t have time to check out the art on the wall or the furniture in his formal living room. Instead, I’m on his heels, up another set of stairs. This one impressive and curved at the bottom, leads to a walkway around the perimeter of the upstairs.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

I sigh, a woman without choices. “All right.” But now he slows so I can walk beside him. If he moved his shoulder left, there would be nothing I could do to keep him from toppling me over the rail to the lower level.

I don’t concentrate on it. Instead, I count the doors we pass—three—until he stops in front of the next. “Your room.”

As far as accommodations, not too shabby. The bed had enough acreage to provide safe sleep for a small town, and it is covered in snowy white blankets and a comforter that matches the snowy white curtains and the sheer, snowy white canopy around the bed. A hurricane style lamp beside the bed looks like it came straight out of Little House on the Prairie, and an over-stuffed and oversized chair sits in the corner beside a window, next to another small table and matching lamp.

My, “Wow,” escapes.

From behind me and in the doorway, Anna manages to make, “Hello,” sound like an accusation.

I turn and glance at Leon. A mistake. Because every time I see him, it takes a second to adjust to his beauty.

“Anna-Banana, are you about ready for dinner?” His voice is different when he speaks to her. Softer. Sweet almost, and it’s hard to assimilate this man with the one who put a bullet in a man’s head not twenty minutes ago.

His little girl has her arms crossed now and she’s cocked her head in a way a woman three times her age can’t carry off, but this kid has it down. “I already ate because you didn’t come in.” Her head tips to the other side. “Like you said you would.”

Had I not been hyper aware of him, I may not have noticed how close to me he moved, but his nearness is like a beeping sound and it screams in my head.

I step forward because I need to get away from him or risk embarrassment on a level I don’t want to go to. Or maybe I want to go to too much. “That was my fault. We had to talk.”

He moves in again and pulls me up, keeps his arm around my waist. “Anna, Olivia is my girlfriend and she’s going to stay with us for a while.”

“Good.” She takes his hand on one side and mine on the other as she’s facing us so we’re forming a circle. Or triangle. A shape anyway. Her glance, past Leon, lands on me. “He doesn’t bring women home.”

From the mouths of babes. But she has to be wrong. He’s too stunning, too assured to spend many nights alone.

And for a moment, I concentrate on his looks so I don’t have to think about how such a dangerous man is supposed to be a safe haven for this little girl. Because no way can he be both dangerous and safe. And I’ve already seen him kill. Nothing safe about that.

I pull my hand free of Leon’s. “Well, then I feel very lucky to be here with you.”

She nods. “Very lucky.”

“How old are you, Anna?” I don’t really have a reason to ask. I just feel compelled to find a way to help this little girl. To figure out what idiot saddled her with Leon Krilov.

“Five.” She also pulls her hand free from Leon’s and holds up her fingers. “Five.” She says it again.

“Wow. Are you in Kindergarten?” I vaguely remembered having a fifth birthday party then starting kindergarten.

She shakes her head. “I have tutors here.”

I glance over my shoulder at Leon. He has his arms crossed which only makes his chest look wider and bigger. I have to stop looking at him because my thoughts are not appropriate in the presence of a five-year-old.

“Tutors? You’re a lucky girl. I had to go to school. It was horrible. Smelled like glue and shoes.”

I must be funny with the five-year-old set because she doubles over laughing like I’m Bob freaking Hope. Behind me, even Leon chuckles.

“Come on. Let’s go in my room and play. I have Chutes and Ladders.” She lifts an eyebrow, nods, and half-smiles. “And Candy Land.”

I shoot a different look at Leon this time. I need to know if it’s okay. I need to know if crossing this line is going to be the thing that gets me killed. And for a guy who claims not to hurt women, he doesn’t mind threatening me. So, I’m not convinced I’m not walking dead.

But he nods at me. Permission. I have to get permission to play board games with a child. This is my new life.

He glances down at the girl and smiles. Crouches to her level, and my ovaries clench. It’s physical. And semi-delicious.

“I need to talk to Olivia for just a minute. Why don’t you go get the board put together and she’ll be right in?” He’s using that voice again and my ovaries aren’t going to survive being in this house with this man if this is how he’s going to be with Anna.

“Okay, but if this ends up like dinner, I’m coming to look for her.” And she runs off to the farthest door from the stairs on this side of the house. Door number six, by my count.

When she’s gone and it shuts behind her, he looks at me with those bluer-than-blue and unreadable eyes, and if I had a bit of sense I would run. But I don’t. I can’t. I need to know what happened to Denice and he’s my only lead.

“What?” I sound very haughty for someone who, not an hour ago, had a gun to her head. A gun held by this guy.

“I’m going to let this happen because…” He can make whatever excuse he wants, but we both know he’s letting it happen because he’s weak with her. Powerless. And that’s information I might be able to use.

“I understand.”

He smiles and this time I see the evil I keep imagining is gone. “No. You don’t. I’m letting this happen because I have work to do.” He leans in close. “And you know what kind of work I do, don’t you?”

This is to inspire my fear.

It works.

“Yes.” I’m a squeaky mouse of a human. Worthless in my own skin.

“Then you know what I’ll do to you if you hurt so much as one of her feelings.” His tone leaves no doubt, so I nod. “And I’ll be watching. This place has more cameras than HBO.”

“Okay.”

“Go.”

I can feel his gaze all the way to the door. Even after it’s shut behind me. Even when I look up at the cameras—one in each corner of the room. He isn’t in his office yet. But I give a wave anyway.

It looks like a unicorn ate a few thousand pounds of rainbow glitter and threw it up in this room. The carpet is purple. The walls are pink. The furniture is painted in sea foam green, teal, yellow, more purple and pink, all accented with glitter and rhinestones. The curtains hang from floor to ceiling, one side a delightful shade of light green, the other side a hot pink. It’s not a room to stumble into drunk.

Anna smiles up at me. “There are cameras everywhere. He likes to see when he isn’t here.” She moves her game piece—a piece that belongs to a different game—to the nearest green tile. “I would like a camera I could make him wear so I could see him all the time.”

She speaks like a little adult, and I want to tell her that there are some things she shouldn’t see, but instead, I defend him. “Your daddy is a very busy man.” Busy doing the killing. “But when your nanny called him today, he rushed home to make sure you were okay.”

“You lied to me.” She moves the monopoly hat to a blue square. And hands me a card. I move my Game of Life car with pink and blue pins poked into it to a red square.

“I did?” Because I’m not sure which one she caught. I don’t even remember them all because all I can think is that I’m supposed to be Leon’s girlfriend.

She nods. “You said my daddy talks about me a lot. That was a lie.” And she’s certain. Arms crossed, dare of a glare.

“He does.” Not with me, but there is no doubt how he feels about her. I assume that means he talks about her, but in his line of work, maybe not.

“Then why did you call him my daddy?” I don’t know exactly why, but I feel as if I’ve been caught in a lie. “He’s my uncle.”

Oh, shit. And she knows. And I’m an ass. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. This poor kid has already lost her parents, has to live with her uncle—the murderer and probable rapist—and she has me sitting across from her lying my face off.

“It’s okay. He lies to me too.” She smiles. “He doesn’t think I know.” She looks up at me, serious, eyes narrow, practicing her scary look, no doubt. “Don’t lie to me again.”

I nod. And I mean it. She’s been through enough. A little honesty isn’t too much to ask.