I sit Eva down on a chair in the break room and plant my feet firmly apart. "Breathe. Slow breaths. You've had a shock."

She does as I ask.

My gaze slides over her pretty little tits. If I'm not mistaken, her nipples have pebbled under the thin silk.

She's affected by me.

Good.

I bend and reach out my hand, attempting to brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Don't. Touch. Me," she leans away.

"You seem to have forgotten something," I raise a brow. "You are mine. You belong to me. I call the shots not you. So, don't tell me what I can or cannot do."

"I'm not your property." She lifts her chin.

Fuck, I'm drawn to her. Women never put up any resistance to me, and Eva's feistiness is making my balls grow heavy; my cock strains against the tightness of my briefs.

"You are mine." My voice is gruff. "You became mine the minute your father signed that contract."

She folds her arms and looks me in the eye. "I won't have sex with you. I hate you."

I laugh, pretending indifference.

She's entitled to her opinion, but she WILL have sex with me ... and she'll fucking beg me for it.

"You know what they say about hate?" I unleash a deliberately arrogant smirk.

She taps her toe on the floor. "What?"

"It's a heavy burden and a great waste of time." I shrug nonchalantly. "Which reminds me, that motherfucker who upset you will never set foot in my club again."

"I'm sorry I wrote down his order wrong." She catches her lip between pearly white teeth.

"Cunt was shit-faced. No excuse for abusive behavior, however." I narrow my eyes. "Just make sure you remind customers which drinks they've ordered in the future."

She blushes. "First day nerves. I won't make that mistake again."

"You okay now?" I tilt my head.

She pushes herself to her feet. "I'm fine."

Except, she isn't fine. Her face has turned pale and she's shaking again.

"When did you last eat?"

She frowns. "Lunch." A pause. "I think."

Hmm. My guess is she hasn't eaten all day. She's skinny, so maybe she controls her weight by fasting?

"I'll leave you to get changed." I straighten my posture, fighting the overwhelming urge to stroke my finger down her cheek. "I'm giving you and me the rest of the night off." My smile is without guile. "I'm hungry and know the perfect place to grab a steak."

I catch the hesitation in her expression. "Don't tell me you're a vegetarian." I hold up my hands. "Not that I've anything against vegetarians, let me add."

That elicits a laugh.

She's fucking beautiful when she laughs.

Half an hour later, I'm watching her devour that steak like she hasn't eaten in days. Or weeks, even. I'd lied when I'd said I was hungry; I merely toy with my food.

"Don't you like it?" She peers at me from under her dark lashes.

"Too well done," I grunt.

In a blink, she's reached over and has speared my meat with her fork. She transfers it to her plate and starts cutting into it. "Waste not want not."

I lean back in my seat and stare at her while she eats. It gives me a crazy warm sensation in my stomach.

Fucking insane.

Gleb Sokolov doesn't do crazy warm sensations.

"Tell me about yourself." I move my chair closer to hers. "You're obviously not the hooker you said you were."

"Nothing to tell," she says curtly. "I'm only a waitress."

Silence rolls between us like a wet log.

She's hiding something, I suddenly realize. No girl is this reticent unless she has secrets.

She finishes the steak and takes a sip from the glass of water in front of her. "I can't pay my share of this meal. The only money I have is the tips I made tonight." She reaches into her pocket and extracts a wad of twenty-dollar bills. "I guess you'll be wanting these." She places the notes on the table.

I grab the cash and push it toward her. "Jesus, Eva. Dinner is on me. And you can keep your chayevyye. Spend them as you wish."

She nods, once, and mutters, "Thank you."

That silence.

Again.

I clear my throat. "Would you like a coffee?"

She declines, saying it would keep her awake. A yawn, and I get the message that she's tired.

"I'll drive you home," I signal for the check.

"It's okay," her voice trembles, "I can walk from here."

"For fuck's sake, Elousha." I call her by the diminutive form of her name. "Your apartment is miles away."

"You know where I live?" she gasps.

"I loaned money to your father." I curl my lips. "Of course, I know where you live."

I don't know much about you, though, Ms. Petrenko. But the way you're acting has spiked my curiosity. Whatever it is you're hiding, I'm going to get to the bottom of it, I say to myself.

"Let's go, then," she gets to her feet.

I hold her coat while she slides into it. She's so tiny, her head barely reaches the top of my pecs. Her hair smells divine, like green apples, and again I resist the urge to touch her.

If she's impressed to be riding in a Porsche, she doesn't say so. She didn't comment on the way to the steak house, and she acts like she rides in a sports car every day of her life while I drive her toward the two-story building in downtown Fairwood where she lives above her parents' dance school. She's silent, staring out of the window, her hands folded in her lap.

I park outside and before I can get out to open the door for her, she's grabbed the handle and has levered herself out of my GT3.

"Thanks, again," she says, already turning and jangling keys in her pocket. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"You will, indeed, Kiska."

I watch her go inside, then make my way home. I'm going to have her watched on her days off, I decide. Whatever Eva Petrenko is hiding won't stay hidden much longer.

I make a point of giving Eva the once over the following evening and sit at a table in the corner, watching her. Kiska 's first-day nerves seem to have disappeared, I'm pleased to see. She's serving her customers with confidence, smiling big and pocketing her tips with an even bigger smile. Half-way through the shift, it's time for her break. Val takes over and Eva goes to the staff area through a door at the side of the lounge. I follow her and stand by the water cooler.

"There's no need to check up on me," she folds her arms. "I won't let you down again."

I extract a cigar from the top pocket of my tux and pull out a lighter. The tobacco leaves burn as I puff in smoke. "I don't doubt it," I say around my Davidoff.

She looks me up and down. "So why are you here?"

"Appears I can't stay away from you," I laugh.

Many a true word is spoken in jest. Shakespeare, or was it Chaucer, said that. Fuck knows and fuck if I care. I just know I have an overwhelming desire to be near her.

"Please," she jabs a finger at me, "leave me alone."

"Not gonna happen, Kiska. You are mine." A smirk finds my lips. "Your father sold you to me."

There's something between us, Eva Petrenko, and the sooner you admit it, the better.

"I wish," she sighs, "I only wish..."

Whatever she was going to say, she doesn't get the opportunity to finish. The door to the break room crashes open and Yuri erupts into the space. "You're needed on the floor immediately, Gleb. Vadim Rayt is here with his woman. He's asking for you."

"It's okay. I've got this." I snuff out my cigar. "It will be a chance to discuss business."

Eva's eyes have widened; she must know Vadim by reputation. The whole fucking Russian community knows the motherfucker by his despicable reputation. Groaning to myself, I push open the door, Yuri following at my heel.

Vadim is sitting at a table in the center of the room, his bodyguard in position behind him. When I set up in Fairwood, part of the deal was my giving Vadim membership of Lure. My CCTV cameras have caught him snooping around in the nightclub, but this is the first time he's made an appearance in the private lounge. I pull out a seat; Yuri stands behind me, his hand ready to reach for his piece.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Vadim?" I stress the word pleasure... so he gets the message it's more of a displeasure. He's a bad person, but I pretend to be even worse.

"I've been extremely patient, Gleb," Vadim's accent signals him out as being from the Urals, whereas mine is distinctly Moskvich. "You have to stop poaching my clients."

I ignore his remark and focus my attention on the woman by his side. She's blonde, but her dark eyes and brows indicate she's probably dyed her hair. "Won't you introduce me to this charming lady?" A fake smile creases my face.

Vadim gives her a cursory glance, like she's expendable. "This is Natasha."

Natasha holds out a limp wrist, which I squeeze briefly.

"So?" Vadim's jaw tightens. "About my clients..."

"Yes, yes," I wave a hand. "If you'll give me a list I'll make sure they aren't on my books."

Anything to bide time while we prepare. There needs to be only one Vor in Fairwood. And that Vor will be me.

My eye is suddenly caught by the sight of my kitten coming up to our table, notebook in hand. "Hello. My name's Eva and I'm your waitress for the evening."

"Well, if it isn't Kiska," Vadim's voice grates. "Don't you remember?" He stares at her with lustful eyes.

"I'm sorry," her cheeks have reddened, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Maybe Eva was a hooker when I first met her?

Nah, she's too sweet. Too innocent despite what went down between us. I ball my hands into fists, ready to punch the living daylights out of Vadim.

She calmly takes our order, behaving with utmost professionalism. "I'll be right back," she beams a smile, but I can see there are nerves behind it.

Vadim's gaze is glued to her cute little ass as she makes her way toward the bar. "She's perfect," he grins. "I saw her here two years ago and she gave me the finger. Never had a woman do that to me before." He fixes me with a calculating stare then points to Natasha. "What do you say we trade?"

Fuck, the cunting bastard wants my kitten.

I push back my chair, ready to fly at him.

I sense Yuri's fingers twitching behind me. I just need to give the word and he'll take Vadim out.

Only that's not my style.

We'll get rid of that motherfucker, but we'll do it in such a way no one will be able to pin it on us. Vadim runs prostitution rings, traffics in women and sells girls to the highest bidders. No way is he going to get his hands on my kitten. I'll do whatever it takes to protect what's mine.

Eva Petrenko belongs to me, whether she likes it or not.