Cruel Enforcer by Maggie Cole

9

Kora

"Wow. This is amazing!"The restaurant Sergey brings me to is a Russian pop-up concept. It's outside, and the overall idea is you're in an ice dome. It's not frozen, but it feels like you're inside an igloo with heat. There's a table and plush, circular seating.

The server brings me a glass of cabernet and Sergey a vodka. In a thick, Russian accent, the server asks, "Do you want to order appetizers?"

Sergey rattles off several things in Russian, and the server replies. I don't know what he's saying, but there's something sexy about the way the words roll out of his mouth. He leaves and shuts our door flap.

Sergey puts his arm around me and takes a sip of his vodka. "Do you know what's going on between Adrian and Skylar?"

"Nope. I hoped you would have the details."

"Hmm." An amused expression appears on his face. "Hailee's interesting."

"How so?" I take a sip of my wine.

He shrugs. "She's a good sport. I like her. She's pretty innocent, isn't she?"

I can't deny it. "Is that your way of saying I'm not?"

He puts his head closer to mine. "God, I hope not."

"Why not?"

He arches an eyebrow. "I need a woman who can handle me. Not a naive, frail thing. Plus, innocence is boring, don't you think?"

"Hailee isn't boring or frail."

"I didn't say she was. I was making a point. Don't put words in my mouth." His hand slips lower, so it's around my waist, and he slides it in my pants. "Besides, I think it takes a more cultured woman to be okay with sitting in public and letting me do this, don't you?" His finger slides through my slit, and he slowly circles my clit.

I open my mouth.

A smug expression fills his face.

I quickly survey our surroundings and clench my crossed legs tighter.

No one can see in here.

Until the waiter comes.

Screw the waiter.

Nope, I only want to screw Sergey.

Or, he can just keep doing this.

He pulls my chin toward him so I'm inches from his mouth. His eyes are golden flames, studying my reaction. "What is the situation with your sister, my lapa?" His finger swipes me faster.

I swallow hard. Heat oozes through my cells. My breathing becomes shallow. I don't want to tell him about how my family doesn't like me but uses me for money. It's the truth. I've known it for a long time. My friends don't understand why I put up with it. I don't understand, either. The only reason I have to give is that they're my family.

He slows his finger and brushes his lips against mine. I try to continue kissing him, but he pulls back. His finger moves faster. "Tell me."

"Why?" I barely get out and close my eyes. He has me on edge. I'm a ticking time bomb ready to explode, but he hasn't pulled the pin.

He kisses my neck then licks behind my ear. "I want to know."

Tremors start in my toes and climb up my legs. "Oh God," I breathe.

"You seemed stressed on your call," he murmurs and tugs my hair so I'm looking at the top of the dome.

Pellets of sweat break out on my skin. I whimper.

"Did I get it right? Hmm?" He slides his finger into my sex, and his thumb takes over, circling me. "Tell me, lapa."

I nod.

He drags his finger down my neck, and shivers run down my spine, mixing with the adrenaline building in my veins. "You want me to release some of your stress? Hmm?"

"Please," I whisper, desperate, and not caring that the waiter could come in at any moment, or someone will walk by and peek closer through the thick plastic.

He nips me on the ear then repositions my head next to his. He speaks quietly but firmly in Russian, studying my eyes and playing my lower body like I'm a violin and he's the musician.

I'm clueless what his words mean, but they increase the flutters in my stomach. My whimpers get louder. He slides his tongue into my mouth and makes me erupt into thousands of pieces while muffling my cries.

He slowly glides his hand out of my pants and slides it up my shirt. His warm palm stretches across my naked stomach. His lips twitch against mine. "Feel better?"

"Mmhmm."

He strokes the side of my head. "Tell me what your call was about."

I close my eyes. "My sister has something wrong with her health and needs an operation. She won't tell me what is wrong."

He teases, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

"No," I admit.

"I'm sorry to hear she's sick. I hope she'll be okay and tell you soon."

I open my eyes. "Can we change the subject? It's—"

He flicks his tongue back in my mouth and caresses my stomach with his thumb. He holds my head possessively, as if I'm his and there's no question about it.

There's something about Sergey I can't seem to get enough of or resist. I'm not used to it, or a man making demands, or one touching me in public.

I slide my hand in his hair, taking from him everything he gives me, wanting all the parts he hasn't yet. I stroke his cock, which only makes me desire it more. He groans into my mouth. We continue kissing until the server clears his throat.

I jump, unaware he came into our dome.

He sets down several dishes. He and Sergey converse in Russian, and he hurries out, shutting the flap.

"What did you say?"

His eyes twinkle. "I ordered some more things and told him to shut the door on the way out." He removes his hands from my body, and I instantly miss his skin on mine.

"What is this?"

"Are you going to remember the names?"

I wince. "I'll try."

He points to the table. "Say zakuski."

"Zakuski."

His eyes light up in approval. "Very good, lapa."

"What does it mean?"

"Think of it as a spread of Russian appetizers."

"Kind of like tapas?"

He picks up each item and feeds me then himself, telling me different names of food and making me repeat them back.

"Impressive," he praises me.

"What's that?"

"Your Russian."

"Really?"

"Yes." He takes a drink of his vodka, and I take one of my wine. "So why won't your sister tell you what's wrong?"

"You heard my conversation?"

Guilt crosses his face. "I might have eavesdropped. So why is she withholding information from you?"

I try to avoid answering him. It's too embarrassing to admit my sister has something medical going on. She needs twenty thousand dollars for an operation and won't tell me what kind or her diagnosis. I snap, "Do you always listen to conversations that aren't your business?"

He cringes. "Ouch. Sounds so harsh when you say it like that."

Crap. There goes my alpha aggressive personality. I need to tone it down."Sorry."

"Why would you be sorry? I didn't have a right to listen in."

My chest tightens. I blurt out, "For being a piranha, as you call it." I instantly regret it and avert my eyes to my wineglass. I swirl the wine in it, wondering why I can't seem to keep control of anything around him. In a normal conversation, I would never admit any of my insecurities.

He pins his gaze on me. I can feel the intensity. My cheeks heat, and I take another sip of wine to avoid him.

"Have I insulted you?"

I turn toward him and put on my attorney's face. "No."

"Are you sure? I feel like I may have."

I'm not getting out of this.

I sigh. "I'm aware I can come across a little too strong at times."

"When would you consider it the wrong time to be strong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me when you think you should have to back down on what you know is right or your opinion."

"I-I... You know what I'm saying."

Sergey grunts. "No, I don't. Explain it to me."

I look away. This is so embarrassing. How am I supposed to answer him? Am I supposed to admit guys run from me?

He turns my chin toward him.

I hate feeling anxious. I'm usually not. All day, I'm confident about who I am and what I do. Dates are one of the few things I always feel unsure about how to act or what to say. Over the years, it's gotten worse, as more men have rejected me. I take a nervous breath.

He traces my jawline. "You know what drives me insane?"

Tingles compete with my nervous flutters. "What?"

"Women who have no backbone. Ones who can't stand up for themselves or what's right."

I don't say anything.

"When I call you a piranha, I mean it as a compliment. You didn't get where you are by sitting back and letting other people run all over you or hiding who you are. I like that no one messes with you."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have threatened Jack today." And I wouldn't let my family run all over me.

His eyes turn to slits. His voice turns so cold, I get a chill down my spine. "If he, or anyone, ever lays a finger on you, I'll kill them."

My heart pounds faster. "You shouldn't get involved in my work issues."

His face hardens. "He was in your face."

"Yes. But it's nothing I haven't handled before."

Sergey shakes his head. "No one is going to get in your face, or they'll deal with me."

"You can't threaten every man who tries to intimidate me."

He snorts. "Watch me."

"Sergey—"

"What do you want me to do, Kora? Not do anything when someone tries to harm you?" he barks.

I tilt my head and put my hand on his cheek. "I didn't say that. And what you did for Selena today was incredibly kind. Honestly."

His jaw spasms under my fingers. Darkness swirls in his ordinarily warm eyes. "What do you know about her husband?"

"I can't disclose anything to you. It's confidential."

"How many times has he threatened you?"

"He hasn't before."

"Don't lie to me, Kora."

"I'm not. Things got out of hand today."

"He doesn't seem like the type of man who is going to lose quietly."

"Let's change the subject," I suggest. Sergey's assumption is mine, but I'm not going to discuss her case with him. It's not professional and won't lead anywhere good. I need Sergey to cool off regarding Jack.

He lets out a long breath. "Okay. Are you from Chicago?"

I shift. "Yeah. You know my neighborhood well."

"Oh?"

I'm not sure why I'm worried about telling Sergey where I'm from, but the voice in my head says maybe I shouldn't.

He waits for me to answer.

I finally admit, "It's where your gym is."

Shock fills his face.

"You can pick your jaw up off the floor now."

"Sorry. You grew up in a rough neighborhood. I didn't expect..."

"What? You thought I was a Michigan Avenue girl?"

His face stays serious. "Most people never escape that neighborhood."

"Yeah. My mom and sister still live there. They won't let me relocate them."

Something shifts in his expression.

"Why do you have that look on your face?"

He finishes his vodka and taps his glass.

"Sergey?"

His eyes meet mine. "They won't have a choice soon."

"What do you mean?"

"The state put the entire block of their buildings up on auction. It's a private bid. My brothers and I put ours in. Those buildings are so outdated, it's an electrical fire waiting to happen. Whoever gets the bid has to knock them down and build new government housing."

Goose bumps pop out on my skin. "Where will all the residents move to while construction is going on?"

"The state plans on relocating them to the north side in several complexes they have set aside."

"What? My mother won't go to the north side."

"She won't have a choice."

"When is this happening?"

"The state moves slower than private companies do. But within the next twelve months is my estimate."

My heart beats hard. I want my mother and sister out of the neighborhood and moving somewhere nicer. I assume the north end government housing is just as dangerous, only a different community of people they don't know.

Maybe this will be the catalyst they need to move closer to me.

"Will you tell me when you find out what is happening?"

Sergey nods. "Sure."

"What about your building? Is that being torn down, too?"

"No. We own it and have updated it already. It's not government housing."

"Oh, right." I take a long drink of wine. "Why did you buy your gym in my old neighborhood?"

"When my brothers started buying property, I was still in high school. They put everything back into the business. We didn't have extra funds growing up, but Aleksei's boxed since he was in Russia. He was my dad's best friend. He saw Boris's talent and trained him for free as well. But he didn't have a gym or a ring. Boris is best friends with Nora's brother, Killian. He boxes, too. For a while, Killian's trainer, his uncle Patrick, let Aleksei train Boris in their gym. Patrick got a lot of grief from the O'Malleys since we aren't Irish. When everything..." Sergey stops, and pain fills his eyes. His jaw spasms. He takes a drink and clears his throat.

What was he going to say? Why does he look so haunted?

"Boris and Aleksei thought it would be good for me to learn to box. But it created more issues in the O'Malley's gym. They made constant comments about the Russians taking over. So Maksim and Dmitri surprised Boris on his birthday with the gym. It was what we could afford at the time. We've never seen the point of moving it."

"Why did they want you to learn to box?"

"They just did."

That's not really an answer.

He flips the conversation back to me. "You never answered me. What's the situation between you and your sister?"

"Tell me why they wanted you to learn to box first," I try to negotiate.

His face hardens. "It's a good way to destress. And I'm not as good as Boris. Now tell me why."

"You should be an attorney."

A line forms between his eyebrows. "Why?"

"You avoid going deep and shift the subject away from you."

He taps his fingers on his glass.

The server unzips the flap and says something in Russian. Sergey responds then asks me, "Do you want anything else, lapa?"

"No, thank you."

He replies to the server and pulls out his wallet. The server hands him the bill, and he slaps cash into the check holder and gives it to him. They exchange final words, and Sergey downs the rest of his vodka. I finish the last sip of my wine.

Sergey helps me out of the booth and guides me to his car. He pulls me onto his lap. "What are you doing Sunday?"

"Sunday?"

His cocky expression appears. "Yeah, Sunday. Around four."

I shrug. "Probably reviewing Selena's case for Monday."

His face falls. "Can you do it earlier in the day?"

I try to contain my smile. "It depends. I usually go to yoga then brunch with the girls. We missed last weekend. But I might be able to fit it in somewhere else during the weekend if there was a good enough reason."

"Are front row Bulls tickets a good enough reason?"

"You have courtside tickets?" I'm a huge Bulls fan and have never been in those seats.

"Yep."

"How did you get those?"

He grunts. "I've had them for five years."

"You like basketball?"

He scrunches his face. "Why do you seem surprised?"

"Not sure. Russian boxer and basketball don't seem to mix."

He snorts. "I love all sports."

I'm not sure if I'm more excited about spending more time with Sergey or going to the game. "I'm a huge Bulls fan."

His arrogant expression grows. "I figured you were."

"How did you know?"

"You've got a signed basketball in your house. I saw it the first night I dropped you off."

He pays attention.

"So, do you want to go?"

I casually say, "I guess I could rearrange my schedule."

"Great. I'll pick you up at four. We'll grab an early dinner at the stadium before the game."

My insides do a happy dance at the thought of another date with him. I lace my hands behind his head. "Thank you for dinner."

He smirks. "Don't forget the exciting trip to the hospital. I deserve extra points for that one."

I softly laugh. "Noted."

He drags his fingers up the side of my torso, and I shudder. He mutters something in Russian then licks his lips.

"What did you just say?"

He hesitates. "I want to take you somewhere."

"Where?"

His eyes search mine. "Have you ever gone to an underground club?"

My heart beats faster. I already know the answer before I ask it. "You mean like a rave?"

He grunts. "No."

Blood pumps hard through my veins. I wait for him to explain more.

"Do you want to go?"

"What happens at this club?"

He strokes my cheekbone. "Lots of things."

"With other people?"

He arches his eyebrow. "Some are into that. I'm not. If anyone touches you, I'd kill them. But you don't have to worry about that. Consent is required for everything."

"What kind of things?"

He leans into my ear. His tongue flicks on my lobe. He murmurs, "Things I would never want to do with an innocent woman."

I don't bother telling him I'm pretty sure I've never done whatever it is he's alluding to, so that makes me innocent. I'm too curious to give him any reason not to take me. I want to see whatever this is, and I also don't want our night to end. My stomach flips in nerves.

He kisses my neck. "It's members only. I'll keep you safe. What's your answer, my lapa?"

I hesitate.

He holds my head so my lips are an inch from his. "It'll make the Cat's Meow seem tame. You in or out?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Okay."

The corners of his lips turn up. "Good. Just remember, the only word I listen to is stop."