Such a promise.

Such a tempting promise.

“Marcus, you don’t understand.”

“I don’t need to understand.”

Jesus.

His finger dips and then slides inside of me. Mother of God.

“Marcus, stop.”

“No, Katia,” he rumbles.

“More wine, sir?”

My body goes still when I hear the waitress’s voice. Marcus lifts his head from my neck and looks at her; thank God she can’t see that his fingers are deep inside me.

“Please,” he purrs.

Using her as an excuse, I shove backwards, knowing he won’t fight to keep me there because of our sexual position. His fingers slip from me and I shift so she can’t see what’s going on as I move from the seat. Marcus shoots me a warning glare, but I stand anyway. “I need to use the bathroom.”

I turn and rush off, shoving past people until I reach the bathroom. I stop, hesitate, and then decide I just can’t deal with this. A man like Marcus is dangerous for me. I don’t have the time or the patience to fall for someone like him. He’ll destroy me. Crush me. Take my life in his hands and twist it until there’s nothing but a pathetic, dangling string left.

I can’t let that happen.

Instead of going into the bathroom, I run out the back door. I don’t know how he knew I wasn’t going to come back, or how he got out before me—all I know is I’m running for a cab, my chest seizing, when a strong arm goes around my waist, hauling me against a hard chest. I squirm, only causing that arm to tighten.

“I can handle being run out on once,” he growls into my ear. “I can’t deal with it a second time.”

“You won’t listen to me,” I yell, frustrated. “I’m not the toy for you, Marcus. I’m broken; I’m not some pretty, shiny thing you can keep around until you’re finished. I have a mother, Marcus, who had a brain tumor and the doctors screwed up her surgery. She lives life in a chair, a God damned chair that’s so fucked up I’m surprised it hasn’t caused an accident, but I can’t get her a new one, even with the ridiculous hours I work, because I’m paying for her care and a shit-load of debt from her surgery. I’m asking you—no, I’m begging you—don’t make me your toy. Pick someone else. Anyone else.”

His arm tightens around me, and I’m panting by the time I’m finished with my speech. I wait, the silence surrounding us. He holds me there for a long, long moment, his arm tightly around my middle, his breath hot against my ear. “Katia,” he finally murmurs.

“I work so much,” I whisper, my body slumping. He keeps me upright. “For a boss who is a complete asshole.”

“Katia.”

“My mom wants me to have a life. I can’t have a life.”

“Katia.”

“Then you come along and I want you; I don’t know you, but I want you.”

He gives up trying to say my name and spins me around so fast I lose my footing. His arm circles my waist and he holds me up, my front crushed against his chest. Then he dips his head and he kisses me. My eyes flutter closed, my legs stay dangling, and I kiss him back. I kiss him back because I want to, because I need to, but most of all, because he’s not letting me do anything else and I’m okay with that.

Slowly, he starts walking us backwards. My body hits the side of a car, and then my leg is up around his hip and he’s tearing my panties aside. Frenzy takes over and I reach down, unbuckling his belt. With fumbling fingers, I manage to open his pants and reach inside, finding his cock. He hisses against my mouth, and thrusts his fingers inside my depths, working me, preparing me.

“Fuck me,” I plead. “I just need you to . . . fuck me.”

He takes his cock from my hand, guides it between us, and does just that. He plunges inside me, deep, hard, causing my body to jerk with pleasure. My nipples harden almost painfully, and I arch into him. His fingers clutch my hips, and he holds me so tightly I know I’ll find bruises in the morning. He fucks me harder, slamming my tiny body against the metal of the car.

“Marcus,” I scream.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

His cock drives deep, slamming over and over, harder and harder, until we’re both panting, clutching, growling each other’s names. Then I come, I come so fucking hard my vision goes white and my scream hitches in my throat. Marcus rides my pussy, fucking me through my pleasure, until he too finds his release with a bellow. My face drops into his chest and I clutch his suit, holding him to me, wondering why the fuck he decided I was good enough to fight for?

“Why me?” I whisper there.

He squeezes my hip. “If it wasn’t you,” he murmurs, “and it was another girl, she too would probably be asking the same question right now. Why would she be good enough, Katia? Why would she be the best choice? There is no answer. It just is.”

What can I say to that?

Absolutely nothing.

CHAPTER 13

NOW

Marcus

His face turns an ugly shade of blue as my fingers tighten around his throat. I’ve got him against the wall, his legs dangling, his fingers clutching at my wrists, trying to pry them off. I lean in close, baring my teeth in his face.

“I won’t ask again,” I snarl. “Where’s Lucas?”

“I don’t . . .” he wheezes. “I don’t know.”

“You fuckin’ do know. You’re runnin’ dirty money and makin’ it clean for him, takin’ my clients, and lettin’ him hide. Tell me what you fuckin’ know?”