Chapter Twenty-Three
Lucas
As Esguerra discusses the latest transportation concerns with our Hong Kong supplier, I sit silently, my attention only partially on the video call. I don’t understand how one young woman can tie me into knots like this. One minute I want to take care of her, get her strong and healthy, and the next I’m torn between fucking her and killing her on the spot.
A child prostitute.
That’s essentially what they made her. They took her at eleven, trained her, and set her loose in Moscow at sixteen with instructions to get close to the highest circles of Russian government.
Just thinking about it makes me sick. I don’t know what infuriates me more: that they did this to her, or that she was involved in the plane crash that killed forty-five of our men and left three more burned beyond recognition.
How is it possible to hate someone and want to avenge the wrongs done to her at the same time?
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Chen,” Esguerra says, uncharacteristically polite, and I see the wizened old man on the screen nodding as he parrots back the words. It’s important to observe the niceties in that part of the world, even when dealing with criminals.
As soon as Esguerra disconnects, I get up, impatient to get back to Yulia. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, and he nods, still working on his computer.
“See you,” he says as I walk out.
It’s dark when I step outside—dark, warm, and humid. Esguerra’s office is a small building near the main house, which is a bit of a hike from the guards’ quarters, where I reside. I could’ve driven here, but I enjoy walking, and after sitting still for two hours, I’m eager to stretch my legs and clear my mind.
Before I take a dozen steps, I hear a woman calling my name and turn to see Esguerra’s maid, Rosa, hurrying across the wide lawn. She’s holding what looks like a covered pot against her chest.
“Lucas, wait!” She sounds out of breath.
I stop, curious to find out what she wants. I vaguely recall Eduardo talking about her. He might’ve been dating her at the time. From what he said, she was born on this estate; her parents worked for Juan Esguerra, my boss’s father. I’ve seen her around and exchanged greetings with her a number of times, but I’ve never really spoken to the girl.
“Here,” she says, stopping in front of me and handing me the pot. “Ana wanted you to have this.”
“She did?” Surprised, I take the heavy offering. The aroma seeping through the lid is rich and savory, making my mouth water. “Why?”
Esguerra’s housekeeper occasionally sends some cookies or extra fruit to the guards, but this is the first time she’s singled me out like this.
“I don’t know.” For some reason, Rosa’s rounded cheeks turn pink. “I think she just made some extra soup, and Nora and the Señor didn’t want it.”
“I see.” I don’t see, but I’m not about to argue with what smells like a delicious meal. “Well, I’ll gladly eat it if they don’t want it.”
“They don’t. It’s for you.” She gives me a hesitant smile. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” I say, studying the maid. She’s pretty, with lush curves and sparkling brown eyes, and as I watch her flush deepen under my gaze, it dawns on me that the middle-aged housekeeper might not have been the one behind this.
Rosa’s interested in me. I’m suddenly sure of that.
Doing my best to conceal my discomfort, I wish her a good night and turn away. A couple of months ago, I would’ve been flattered and gladly accepted the invitation evident in the girl’s shy smile. Now, however, all I can think about is the long-legged blonde waiting for me at home and the dirty, savage things I want to do to her.
“Bye,” Rosa calls out as I resume walking, and I give her a neutral smile over my shoulder.
“Thanks for the soup,” I say, but she’s already hurrying back to the house, her maid’s black dress billowing around her like a shroud.
* * *
As soon as I get home, I put the pot in the refrigerator and then go to the living room. I find my prisoner exactly where I left her: tied up in the chair in the middle of the room. Yulia’s head is lowered, her long blond hair veiling most of her upper body. She doesn’t move as I approach, and I realize she must’ve fallen asleep.
Crouching in front of her, I begin untying her ankles, trying to ignore my reaction to her nearness. With her legs bound apart, I can see the tender folds between her thighs, and I recall with sudden vividness how her pussy tasted—and felt around my cock.
Fuck.
I look down at my hands, determined to focus on my task. It doesn’t help. As my fingers brush over her silky skin, I notice that her feet are long and slender, like the rest of her. Despite her height, her build is delicate, her ankles so narrow I can encircle each one with my thumb and index finger.
It would take no effort at all to break those fragile bones. The thought cuts through my haze of lust, and I seize upon it, welcoming the distraction. That’s what I need: to think of her as an enemy, not as a desirable woman. And as an enemy, she’d be easy to torment. With just a bit of pressure, I could snap her feet in half. I know, because I’ve done it. A couple of years ago, a Thai missile manufacturer double-crossed us, and we retaliated by killing his entire family. The man’s wife tried to hide her husband and teenage sons, but we tortured their location out of her, breaking every bone in her legs in the process.
We haven’t had trouble in Thailand since.
That’s what I should do with Yulia: hurt her, make her reveal her secrets, and then kill her. That’s what Esguerra expects me to do.
That’s what I’d planned to do after I had my fill of her.
Her leg twitches, tensing in my grasp, and I look up to find Yulia awake, her blue eyes locked on my face.
“You’re back,” she says quietly, and I nod, rendered mute by a brutal spike of renewed lust. My cock, already semi-stiff, turns into an iron rod in my shorts, and I realize that my right hand is sliding up her inner calf, as though of its own accord. Higher, higher… I can feel her tensing even more, sense her breathing changing as her pupils expand, and I know she’s scared.
Scared and maybe something else, judging by the color creeping up her face.
Unable to resist the dark compulsion, I let my hand continue on its journey, my fingers trailing over the pale curve of her knee and the softness of her inner thigh. Her leg muscles are so tightly bunched they vibrate under my touch, and under the veil of her hair, her nipples harden, drawing into taut pink buds.
Her throat works as she swallows. “Lucas—”
I don’t hear what she’s about to say because at that moment, my phone buzzes loudly in my pocket.
Son of a bitch.
Livid with frustration, I yank my hand away from Yulia’s thigh and pull out my phone. Glancing down, I see a message from Diego.
Potential problem at North Tower One.
I want to throw the phone against the wall, but I resist the urge. Instead, I get up and walk to my office, so Yulia wouldn’t overhear me.
Taking a breath to calm myself, I call Diego.
“What is it?” I bark as soon as he picks up. “What’s so important?”
“We detained a trespasser near the north border. He says he’s a fisherman, but I’m not so sure.”
I tamp down my anger. Diego did well to alert me, even if his interruption came at a shitty time. “All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
I return to the living room and swiftly untie Yulia, doing my best to ignore my raging erection. “Do you need the bathroom?” I ask, pulling her to her feet, and she nods, looking bewildered.
“Let’s go then.” I drag her down the hallway and practically shove her into the restroom. “Be quick about it.”
She comes out five minutes later, her face freshly washed and her breath smelling like toothpaste. I check her hands to make sure they’re empty, and then I lead her to the bedroom. Keeping a careful eye on her, I grab a blanket and throw it on the floor near the foot of the bed. Then I reach into the nightstand drawer, take out a coil of rope I’d prepared earlier, and tell Yulia, “Get down on the blanket.”
She freezes, and I see her staring at the rope I’m holding.
“Get down,” I repeat, reaching for her. “On the blanket. Now.”
She tenses as I pull her toward the blanket, and for a second, I’m sure she’s going to try to fight me. Instead, she complies stiffly, folding her long legs underneath her.
“Lie down.” I release her arm to press down on her shoulder. My dick throbs at the feel of her soft skin, and I have to inhale deeply to fight the urge to take her before I go. With the way I’m feeling, I wouldn’t need more than a couple of minutes to blow my load, and the temptation to spread open her legs and fuck her is all but impossible to resist. If I didn’t want more than a rough quickie, I would already be inside her.
“Lucas.” Her lips tremble as she looks up at me. “Please, I—”
“Lie the fuck down. Now,” I bark, losing my patience. If I have to force her down, I will take her.
Her face pale, Yulia obeys, stretching out on the blanket. As soon as she’s horizontal, I kneel beside her, grab her wrists, and raise them above her head. Careful not to cut off her circulation, I wrap the rope tightly around her wrists and tie the other end of it on the leg of the bed. Then I repeat the maneuver with her ankles and the other leg of the bed, ignoring her stiffness. The end result is her stretched out on her side on the blanket, ankles and wrists tied to the opposite sides of the bed.
Getting up, I view my handiwork. With the bed as heavy as it is, Yulia is even more securely tied than she was in the chair—and she’s in a better position to sleep if the trespasser situation takes longer than I expect.
Before I leave, I take a pillow and bend down to stuff it under her head. Her hair is all over her face, so I brush the silky blond strands away, trying to ignore the lust pounding through me. She stares up at me, her eyes like deep blue pools, and I almost groan when her tongue flicks out to wet her lips.
“I’ll be back soon,” I say, forcing myself to straighten and step away from her.
And before I can change my mind about the quickie, I exit the room and head over to North Tower One.