Selena
We sit on the couch and I take a sip of the wine before talking.
“I don’t want to burden you with my drama,” I say. “I already mentioned I really appreciate his job. My husband never wanted me to work, so I never got much use of my degree. It’s nice to work. I like it, and I don’t want you to think I’m going to bring a bunch of drama into the workplace.”
“Selena,” Sergei says, “I live drama every day. Pirates snared my shipment today. It is hard to get much more dramatic than that.”
I laugh at this. “I guess that’s true. But still, I don’t want to bring my personal life into the office.”
Sergei takes a drink and holds out a hand to indicate that he can see I’m struggling with whatever all this paperwork is. He says, “Your husband has left you with a mess. That much I can see with my own eyes.”
I sigh. “He has, I suppose. A loan shark came to see me today, said Matt skipped out on three-hundred-thousand in loans. He intends to get his payment from me. Though I don’t have it. I don’t know what to do, and I feel sick about it.”
“Selena,” Sergei says, putting his wine on the table before turning to me. We are knee to knee. “I know you have not worked for me for very long, but surely you have realized I am a powerful man. A successful man. I can erase this for you. I can protect you from this nastiness. All you need do is ask.”
I shake my head. “You’re my employer,” I say. “It’s not appropriate. And I don’t know if I … feel comfortable … with the debt that this would incur.”
“Well, it is a simple debt to overcome. You’re a beautiful woman and I want to fuck you. It’s a simple proposition, an easy business deal.”
I suck in a breath at this, my eyes going wide at his boldness.
“Don’t act surprised,” Sergei says, sitting back against the couch cushion, manspreading, a picture of relaxation and confidence. “You came to me with absolutely nothing on your résumé. Why do you think I would hire a woman with no experience? I like beautiful things, especially when they can satisfy more than one of my needs.”
I’ve overheard people talking about Sergei’s non-business needs. Two men spoke plainly about him as they waited in the lobby the previous week. They said he often frequented an underground club that catered to very dark sexual fantasy. I’m not sure I could even begin to satisfy the needs of a man who likes that kind of sex.
When I don’t answer immediately, Sergei moves across the couch once more, pushing me down to the cushions, his hand up my skirt before I can say stop. His fingers rub against the silk of my panties.
“I’m offering you a way out, Selena,” he says in my ear, his breath hot, his tone one of desire. “Protection. Pleasure. There is no downside to this offer. Say the word and I’ll give you the world. This loan shark will be in a shallow grave by noon tomorrow.”
I’m stiff as a board as he strokes me. I manage to catch my breath, which I’ve been holding, and I come to reality. This is not something I want. I don’t want Sergei this way, no matter what kind of protection he thinks he can offer me.
Pushing against his chest, I say “No, Sergei. No. This isn’t what I want. You’re my boss and I …”
He kisses me. It’s a hard, relentless kiss of ownership, of power. It’s smothering. I keep pushing, managing to roll out from under him, I stumble a bit, holding out a hand as he stands, his eye s dark with lust. He smirks.
“Selena,” he says, shaking his head. “What I’m offering you is a good deal. I want your body. I want to taste your sweet cunt. I want to bury myself in you, put my seed inside you. I can give you everything for just the price of that luscious body.”
“No,” I say. “No. I don’t want this. I want you to leave.”
He doesn’t leave. He advances a step and I feel panic rising in my throat. Do I scream? Do I run? What do I do? Will my boss hurt me here, in my own home? What kind of man is Sergei Kovolov? Is he a man who doesn’t take no for an answer? Is he violent? Is he simply assertive?
“Come with me tonight, Selena,” Sergei says, taking another step forward as I take a step back. “Let me show you the life you could have with me. Let me shower you in baubles; let me show you pleasure. You can come willingly, or I can take you as you scream. I’ll get what I want either way.”
Question answered, then. I turn and run for it, heading for my bedroom. I can’t get the door shut and locked fast enough, though. He pushes through, and I scramble backward until my knees hit the bed.
I yell, “No! Stop this!” but he moves into my space, a smile that bears nothing but menace on his face.
I open my mouth to scream and he slaps me so hard that I taste blood in my cheek. His hand goes up my skirt again, pushing away the silk, shoving his fingers inside of me as he pushes me down, pinning me against the bed.
“I offered you protection,” Sergei says, his fingers moving in and out of me, my pussy dry as fear takes over. It hurts. Tears well in my eyes as he says, “I was kind. But no one says no to me. No one. So if you will not provide what I ask willingly, then I will take it from you.”
It’s only a loud knock at the door that stops him.
***
Finn
I decided to put on my kind face for once. It’s not just that Selena Russell is beautiful. I’ve met plenty of beautiful women, many of which were total bitches, who deserved everything they had coming. This one, though, she seems innocent. I feel it in my bones—she had no idea what specific brand of shitbag her husband was.
I still have a business to run, so I’ve got to get what I can out of this crap deal. I’ll find Matt Russell someday and I’ll beat his motherfucking face in. For now, though, I’ll play nice with his wife and get a down payment on this debt. Playing nice might also keep that douchebag Mafioso of a boss off my ass. It’s not like I haven’t ever dealt with the mob, but Sergei has a reputation and I’ve done my best to steer clear of him over the years.
When I knock on the door, it’s probably too loud, too aggressive. I tell myself to take it down a notch. I’m not trying to scare her. I’m playing good cop now.
But when she comes to the door, I can tell she’s scared. Her mascara is smudged down her cheeks. Her hair is a wild mess. Her skirt is hiked up near her hips. Selena Russell has bright green eyes and they are wet with tears and wide with fear.
Immediately, I go into military mode, taking in every entrance and exit, every possible scenario. I meet Selena’s gaze and mouth, “You okay?”
She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly, just as Kovolov comes stomping out, smoothing his hair with one hand, his other hand balled into a fist as he screams in Russian. He’s blind with anger, doesn’t even seem to see me as he barrels toward her. She puts up her hands, screams for him to stop, but he keeps coming, a predator fixated on his prey.
It’s pure instinct when I step in front of her, punching him in the face hard enough to make his nose crack and his head fly back. He falls to the ground, dazed long enough for me to grab Selena by the hand. We run from her apartment, out to my car. I open the door and shove her inside before running to the driver’s side. I’ve barely got the door shut when I see him come out. I start the engine and squeal away, blocks away before I even dare to take a breath.
Selena stares out the window the whole drive, shocked, I guess. It’s fine; gives me time to think about what a spectacularly stupid thing I just did. What the fuck? It’s none of my goddamned business what was going on between Kovolov and this woman. The only reason I even give two shits about her is because her husband owes me money. Fuck. I could have gone to her boss directly, worked something out. It’s obvious he wants her. Why wouldn’t I just let him have her, work out a payment from him, walk away?
This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, hands down. Not only do I now have this scared, naïve woman to deal with, but I’ve started a war with the fucking Russian mafia.
We pull down into the underground parking garage at my building having not said one word to each other the whole 30-minute drive from Brooklyn to Queens. When I get out, she stays in the car, either frozen with fear or shock, I don’t know. I open the passenger door and grab her by the arm, roughly pulling her out, to her feet, along with me.
My apartment’s nothing special. It’s a one-bedroom place in a building that looks like nothing. It suits me fine.
“Sit down,” I say. “I’ll get you a drink.”
Selena’s like a ghost as she makes her way to the oversized leather armchair. She sits on the edge, like she just can’t quite relax. Not that I blame her.
I pour us both a double of whisky, handing her the glass and sitting on the couch heavily. I feel weary all of the sudden.
“What am I gonna do with you?” I ask, more to myself than to her.
She sips her whisky, making a face as she swallows. Not a liquor drinker, I see.
“He was going to …” She takes another quick sip, grimacing. Tears leak down onto her cheeks. She looks a hot mess.
“Yeah,” I say, gruff. “He probably was.”
She’s quiet a long time. When she finally speaks again, she says, “I feel like I should thank you, but I’m honestly not sure I’m any safer here.”
“Fair enough,” I grunt.
We sit in silence for a long while, processing. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking but now I’ve got to live with my decision. It’s likely that Kovolov will have the girl’s apartment watched, so we can’t go back there right away. Anything of value in that place is now out of reach, so I’ve fucked up my own plan to get something out of this mess Matt Russell left behind. Fucking coward.
I know one thing for sure: I’ll beat that motherfucker’s face in when I catch him.