Page 90 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

She gulps. “But I’m not,” she croaks eventually.

“Then I take it back,” I say, dragging my finger over her other knee and down her shin. Goosebumps blossom in the wake of my touch. “Maybe you aren’t a smart girl. Because when it comes to me, you should be very, very afraid.”

I move up to untie her wrists, but she doesn’t loosen her hold on the arms of the chair. Her knuckles are white. “If you aren’t going to kill me, why should I be afraid?”

I draw dangerously close to her mouth as I loosen the ropes and let them fall to the floor. Unconsciously, she angles her face up towards mine, her lips parting on a soft sigh.

“Because, beautiful Belle, there are worse things than death,” I whisper. “And I’m well-versed in all of them.”

Just before our lips touch, I pull away and leave her alone in my office.

20

NIKOLAI

I’m on my phone, rewatching the security footage of Belle limping out of my office.

I grimace. I should have escorted her back to the hotel. I wasn't lying when I said her dying could be a problem for me, and I sure as hell don't need the police sniffing around anymore than normal.

At least, that’s the reason I tell myself.

The truth is that I despise seeing her injured. Seeing her alone.

A wadded-up cocktail napkin lands on my screen. I look up to see Arslan staring at me around the stripper straddling his lap. “You look like you’re at a fuckin’ funeral, man,” he yells over the music.

“Given what happened tonight, I’d say the mood is appropriate.”

Arslan glances at the bottle-dyed blonde grinding against him, but she’s not paying attention to what we’re saying. She’s getting paid good money to dance on his cock, so that’s what she’s doing.

The rest of the dancers are congregated around our table, all of the women smiling in my direction and batting their lashes in hopes of an invitation. They know Arslan is throwing around cash like it’s going out of style, and they’re wondering if I’ll follow suit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Tonight was a success,” Arslan says. “You set out to get two birds with one stone, right? And as I see it, we did that. So you might as well celebrate by getting your stones off with one of these beautiful birds now.”

I roll my eyes. “Your metaphors need work.”

He flips me off. “Maybe a dance will make you feel better. Pick your poison. My treat.”

I scrub my hand down my face. Maybe a dance is exactly what I need to get her off my mind.

I peruse the half circle of women around our table. They’re all in various stages of undress. One woman has on a lacy black bra with a leather mini skirt and fishnets. Another has a cropped white t-shirt on, but I can see her nipples through her shirt and she ditched her skirt in favor of a vibrant red thong.

I shrug and wave a hand. All of the women move forward, but one pulls away from the crowd. She is in a skintight dress with a zipper up the front. The zip is pulled down low enough to reveal her lacy bra and ample cleavage.

“Do you need something, Mr. Zhukova?” she asks with a breathy voice.

“A dance!” Arslan answers for me. “Give him a dance, honey. He’s stressed.”

The woman smiles seductively and walks closer, her hips swaying with every step. “Do you need a break, Mr. Zhukova?”

My cock is hard between my legs, but it has nothing to do with this woman. It’s been that way since I walked out of my office an hour ago.

The stripper doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. She climbs on top of me and unzips her dress all the way so she can spread her thighs and straddle me. As soon as she does, she drags her pussy over the front of my pants, massaging my hard length through the material.

“Oh,” she giggles. “Seems like someone has had a reallyhardday.”

“Don’t talk,” I growl.

Her smile is still in place, but it’s a bit more strained. “Whatever you like, Mr. Zhukova. I can help you turn it all off.”

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