“Prisoner” – The Weeknd, Lana Del Ray

My gaze trails over her pretty face, over the slight twitch of her lip. My little Krasivaya is up to something… "Aren't you supposed to be tied up?" I ask.

She glares at me. "Takes more than rope to restrain me, Russian."

"So, you’ve come to show off your pretend freedom?"

"Of course." She cocks a brow and smiles. "And to steal your brandy." She slips past me into the sitting room where one of the servants is waiting with my brandy and the television remote.

I take the glass from his hand and sit as he turns the television to the late-night news. Camilla pours herself a drink, downs it, and then makes another before coming to sit beside me.

"You do know I only tied you up to annoy you?" I say. "I knew you'd get out, and I must say, I admire your determination." I eye the delicate scratches marring her perfect skin.

"Oh, well, in that case..." Rolling her eyes, she tips her drink back.

I direct my attention to the news. Murders, burglaries, another nuclear blast that rocked the Gobi Desert this week—my phone rings in my pocket and I pull it out. Anastasia's name flashes over the screen. "Yes?" I say.

"How could you?" Anastasia gasps. "After everything I did for you. After everything I have given you, and you've already replaced me?"

"Ana," I say sweetly, "Your husband won't allow it, I'm only trying to mend my broken heart."

"With some cheap whore?"

Camilla places her drink on the end table and cocks a curious brow.

"Ana, please don't do this," I whisper, my eyes locked with Camilla's. "Not now. The only reason I’m not with you is because of Nikoli."

Camilla's hands glide over my chest as she leans in and presses her mouth against my neck. "Aw, so romantic," Camilla says, biting her bottom lip. She throws her leg over my thighs and straddles me. Her fingers trail along the side of my neck. I should shove her away from me, but there are many things in life that I've chosen not to do…

"I told you I would leave him," Anastasia says. "I told you I would—"

"You can't leave him, Ana," I say. Camilla leans in and nips my ear. "He won't let you and you know it."

A low sob comes across the line followed by Anastasia mumbling something about love.

I fist Camilla's thick hair, leaning my head back against the sofa as I close my eyes. Her nails dig into my face when she grabs my jaw and presses her lips to mine. The taste of brandy washes over my tongue, and I gently push her away. "Ana, come now... you know she could never compare to you," I say glancing at Camilla. There's a slight flicker in her eyes that gives me such a rise.

She presses her mouth below my ear and her hand against my crotch. "If only that were true."

"I don't believe you, Ronan," Anastasia whispers. "I think I was nothing more than a prize for you to win."

Camilla slides away from me and drops to her knees. This is the most beautiful Camilla has ever looked—on her knees, like she's worshipping me. She reaches for my belt and tugs it open, quickly undoing my slacks.

"Ana, you know that's not true." Your husband's death is the prize. Camilla's fingers wrap around my dick, and she swipes her warm tongue across the head. I fight a groan.

"I thought you loved me," Ana cries.

And this is the point where I flip the switch: "Ana, surely you know a man like me is incapable of such a trivial emotion?"

Camilla's eyes lock with mine, a small smile touching her lips just before I watch my cock disappear inside her mouth. I fist her hair, my eyes glued to her as she works me over. Each flick of her tongue, each jerk of her hand threatens to send me over the edge. Camilla Estrada is the type of woman any man would pay money for to have on her knees, because this is power in every sense. I shove my cock down her throat, grinning as Camilla takes it without so much as a gag. "Fuck," I groan, tossing my head against the seat.

"Ronan?" Ana whispers.

My cock slips from Camilla’s mouth. She holds her hand out to me. Heat spreads through my chest, and I place the phone in her waiting palm. She presses the phone to her ear, her turquoise eyes holding mine as she strokes over my dick. "Ronan's busy right now, Anastasia." Camilla lightly kisses the head of my cock. "I'm going to have to put your desperation on hold." A smug smile graces her lips. "Unless you want to listen." And then she hangs up before swallowing me back in her throat again.

This is where I should stop her. The conversation is done. This is no longer a game between Camilla and Anastasia, but now one between Camilla and I. Heat courses through my veins like boiling lava and just when I'm about to lose all control, I release her hair and shove her face away. I grab my cock and pump over it until I come with a groan, swearing underneath my breath. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths before I look at her with a grin, because I took that power away from her right at the end.

Camilla wipes the corners of her mouth as she pushes to her feet. She rounds the couch, leans over the back, and places a kiss to my neck. "Never is a man more beautiful than when he's at his weakest." She nips at my throat. "You really are magnificent when you come, Russian," she says before walking from the room.

Round and round we go, dancing within each other’s depravity like a man gone mad. I fasten my slacks and drag my hand over my face before reaching for my brandy. Ding. I grab my phone, reading over the text: All the Devil's Dust has been mined. Clutching the phone in my hand, I swallow. So it seems little kitty's time is almost up, and what a travesty that is. She's such a pretty thing, a defiant thing, such a rare piece of work. It seems so cruel to extinguish the life of such a volatile creation, but in the end, business is business, and I'd be a fool not to acknowledge how dangerous my attraction to her is.

I've worked too hard and too long to let a pretty little thing distract me from my course.