Some would call her a curse, but I know better. Little Anya is an angel.

My angel.

Her father is speaking to me from the other side of his desk, but my attention is captured by the scene taking place outside the window, just over his shoulder. Anya is out for her daily morning swim in the backyard, jumping off the diving board in her emerald - green bikini. As she jumps, long, raven - colored hair flies out around her, musical laughter reaching through the window pane to fill the office. Her tits come free of the flimsy material beneath the water. I know this, even if I can’t see it. I’d love nothing more than to pluck her from the pool and bend her over that diving board, those ridiculous green triangles hanging from my teeth.

Soon.

My fingers twitch where they rest on my knee, imagining the strings of her top caught between them. Yanking them open instead of tying them securely, as I’d done only an hour ago.

Uncle Sasha, will you tie me up?

A growl kindles in my throat. Yes, some might say I have been cursed, assigned as full - time bodyguard to a tempting eighteen - year - old who comes to me with her every whim, giving me big green, grateful eyes when I fulfill them. Men of this world want instant gratification. I am the opposite — and everyone will soon know this about me. My time has been bided for five long years, and my reward is almost ready to be claimed.

“As you know, Sasha, when Anya’s mother was taken from me…” David Orlov’s hand clenches into a fist and shakes over his neat stack of paperwork. “Anya was all I had left. She’s been homeschooled, kept within these walls from enemies who would target me. I’ve trusted her to no one, save you. And once again, I must ask that you protect her in this next phase of her life.” His expression wilts. “College.”

David is a congressman with deep Russian roots. Loyalties that he never forgot but keeps out of the public eye. He’s a man who doesn’t mind using his political influence to grant favors, when such actions benefit him. Such is my case. In exchange for David pulling strings to bring my mother and siblings to Chicago from Russia, I pledged him five years of fealty.

When I came to Chicago, my reputation preceded me. I’m a man who keeps his vows, even at the cost of death. Among my duties as David’s right - hand soldier, I have been tasked with keeping his precious daughter safe and happy. I have performed my job very well. A weaker man would have given in to his lust by now and bedded the girl. Snuck in while her father slept upstairs and claimed her perfection for his own.

Red coats my vision, crackling fire roaring to life in my ears. Just thinking of her in someone else’s hands makes me want to commit slaughter.

“If it was up to me, she would go somewhere local. Private.” David sighs, scrubbing both hands over his face. “But she wants her freedom. We can’t keep her locked up forever.”

Oh no?

A matter of opinion, perhaps.

I examine my knuckles. “You want me to drive her to college.”

“Yes.” David turns and watches Anya through the window. “Keeping her sheltered for so long…it’s going to backfire. She doesn’t know how to make friends or go places alone. Christ, she doesn’t know a damn thing about men.”

And she won’t. No men but me.

I grip the armrest of the chair so tightly, it begins to snap, but I release it in time. “No,” I agree, my voice grating. “She knows nothing of men.”

If she did, she wouldn’t be so comfortable sitting on my lap. Or parading around her rooms in nothing but flimsy panties when I can clearly see her through the open door. My cock has gotten hard watching those little cheeks jiggle inside lace so many times, I’ve lost count.

Her body is not the only thing that stirs my manhood, though. Oh no. Others tend to write off my Anya as a pampered brat who is spoiled thanks to her paramour looks. Little do they know Michigan State gave her a full academic scholarship. I can’t check books out of the library for her fast enough, and I’ve replaced her tutors several times because they couldn’t devise a challenging curriculum. The angel keeps me on my toes.

“I’ve asked a lot of you, Sasha. My work schedule doesn’t allow me to be home very often, and you’ve become Anya’s family.” He gives me a look ripe with meaning. “And you haven’t broken the promise you made me. You know the one. Hell, she even calls you Uncle.”

I know this. I don’t need a reminder of the purgatory I’ve been living in.

“You’ve become invaluable to me, not just as Anya’s bodyguard but as an operator.”

We trade a look. Operator. Hit man. Same difference.

“You’re the best I have on my payroll, but those skills haven’t been utilized as much as I’d like. Once you help Anya transition to college life, I need you back here working for me.” He leans forward across the desk. “Without Anya as a distraction, we can really focus your…talents…where they’re needed. Name your price.”

I’m saved from having to answer when Anya explodes into the room, bringing color and light along with her. And too little clothing for my liking. Bubbling with life, she turns in a pirouette, giving me a three - hundred - and - sixty - degree view of my tight, teenage tease, her slender curves covered in nothing but green strips of wet nylon. My muscles flex, my hands eager to reach for her. But I don’t have to, because as usual, Anya reaches for me first.

“Sasha,” she sing - songs, taking her rightful spot on my thigh, throwing herself sideways against my chest and snuggling there. “You said you’d come outside and watch me dive.”

My features stay neutral, but my head is filled with a forbidden image. Anya’s legs spread on David’s desk while I tongue - fuck her to a hip - bucking orgasm. “Your father needed to speak with me.”

Her fingers toy with the button of my coat. “About what?”

David smiles absently, his gaze drawn by something on his computer screen. “Your drive to college tomorrow.” He refocuses on his daughter, seeming to find nothing at all wrong with her clinging to me half naked, still dripping from the pool and looking like an advertisement for expensive internet porn. The ones I never click on because they aren’t Anya.

David’s cluelessness is only one of the reasons I have no guilt about what’s to come. He has taken my reputation as a killer into consideration and still allowed me to raise his daughter. Me. A red - blooded male taking on responsibilities of her meals, her schooling, even the purchase of her clothing. Caring for her when she’s sick.

Does he actually believe I could now part ways with my reward?

“You know I have my reservations about letting you attend school so far from home, but we’ve registered you under an alias. Your pictures haven’t been in the media since you were thirteen, so there’s no danger of being recognized. Sasha is going to check your dorm for security and speak with personnel, to make sure you’re settled before he leaves.” David raps a fist on his desk. “Any instructions he gives you are for your own safety. Make sure you listen.”

“Of course.” Green eyes flash up at me, full of wit and sass. “Don’t I always?”

* * *

Anya

This is it. I’m finally free.

I get a running start and slide across the hood of Sasha’s black Mercedes, my butt making a long squeaking sound. Sticking the landing on the other side, I throw back my hands like I’ve just dismounted the uneven bars at the Olympics.

Watching me through broody, slate - gray eyes, Sasha tosses my final suitcase into the trunk without cracking a smile.

What is his deal today?

Most times, he would at least give me a little lip tilt action.

“Aw. Are you going to miss me, Uncle Sasha?” I saunter closer and prop my hip against one of the rear car doors. “Is that why you’re so quiet?”

His gaze tracks down to my jean skirt, probably finding it too short to be decent. “Nyet.”

Hurt swamps my belly knowing he’s eager to get rid of me, but I don’t let him see it. Some days I think he likes caring for me. He does it so well. When my father checked out emotionally after my mother was killed, Sasha became the only constant in my life. He’s stayed that way for five years. Would a hardened man like Sasha do anything he didn’t want to do? I have no idea. Then again, this is part of the reason I’m going so far away from home for school, isn’t it? The confusing way Sasha makes me feel?

My hormones officially went bananas right after I turned sixteen and walked in on Sasha in the shower. Through the water - speckled glass, I saw his naked, six - foot - eight frame covered in jet-black ink, water coasting down that handsome face — so frustratingly made of stone — splashing on his hard packs of ruthless muscle. He didn’t see me in the bathroom. No, he couldn’t have. Or he wouldn’t have continued stroking that huge, heavy trunk of flesh between his legs, muttering curses in Russian.

Sasha being none the wiser about my accidental peep show is the only reason I can still call him Uncle with a straight face. Because I’m pretty sure girls aren’t supposed to have sweaty fever dreams about their uncles. Even if they’re not actual blood relations. And even if the dreams are against a girl’s will.

Oh, who are you kidding? You beg your subconscious for those dreams.

My nipples turn to spikes beneath my tank top just thinking about the last one. When I joined Sasha inside that foggy shower and he forced that hard part of himself between my lips, grunting my name and wrapping my hair in fists. Thrusting.

Have I been crazy thinking he could crave that — crave me — in real life? Sometimes I swear I sense torment and restraint in him, but he locks it down so fast I think I imagined it. Well, I’ve had quite enough of living in such close quarters with the man haunting my dreams and turning me into a walking, talking horn dog. It hurts. Physically and mentally. Not to mention, the second - guessing of my own sanity is starting to drive me crazy.

Not that I’d let him know that.

Memories of Sasha’s rough hands tying my bathing suit strings yesterday makes my movements provocative as I sway closer to him, inserting myself between him and the trunk, letting my fingers walk up the center of his formidable chest. “You won’t miss me even a little bit?”

Eyes flaring, he catches my wrist. “Do not play games with me, Anya.”

The breath catches in my lungs, heat rushing to my cheeks. Rushing to every part of me. What if I never get another chance to figure out if I imagined the pull between us? I’m going to college today. Even if he tells me I’m crazy and he could never be attracted to a girl he raised from such a young age — a girl he taught to drive, taught to throw a punch — I won’t have to see him every day while living with the knowledge.

The reality of not seeing him sends panic and pain slicing into my middle. And it’s the pain that knocks the words free of my mouth. “I’ve tried to play games,” I blurt out, thinking of all my silly attempts to tempt him. “You won’t play them back.”

Gray eyes narrow, and I sense a debate taking place. I’m so focused on watching him for a sign of what he’s thinking, I suck in a breath when he releases my wrist…and steps forward, pressing me back against the trunk. Traps me there. My neck is forced to crane to keep eye contact, and he looms, so massive and unmoving above me, but his dominance only makes my nerve endings go wilder. “Nothing about us, little angel, is a game. I will not miss you, because I never intend to leave you.” His hand slides beneath my skirt and cups my right cheek, kneading it, stealing the power from my knees. Making my mind reel. “This is mine. Now go put it in the passenger seat, before your father sees me defiling you from the window. It wouldn’t stop my plans, but it might delay us.” He slaps my backside, growling deep in his throat. “And you know I hate being late.”

I’m left with my mouth agape, staring into space as Sasha rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s side, starting the engine.

What in the world just happened?