Kidnapped By the Mob (Miami Mafia 2)

Chapter7

I woke up mad as hell. There were many reasons for my bad mood. One, the cramps in my shoulders from my arms being bound over my head. Two, the fact that my legs were comfortable from not being forced to sleep in jeans. Three, the fact that Borya hadn’t done anything untoward after he’d taken the pants off, and I was grateful that he hadn’t tried to rape me.

This man tied my mind in knots, and I hated it.

When I’d woken up, he’d been out of his bed, and I’d been here alone. On one hand, it had been a relief, but I’d been too damn curious to feel any type of calm. Had he abandoned me down here? How long was I going to be stuck to this bed? Had he found some way to use me against his brother? Against Daisy?

What on earth was he planning?

When he appeared from the back of the panic room, showing that he’d never actually left, I let out a sigh of relief.

I did not let myself think about why I was relieved. That was not important at all.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said casually, like we were old friends, and my wrists weren’t chaffed from rope.

“Morning, jackass,” I responded in the same tone. “Busy day planned at the office?”

“Maybe.”

I raised a brow. I hadn’t been expecting a response. “What does that mean?”

“Before we do anything, we have to get out of this room. That depends on what they’re doing up top, which means we’re watching the Alek channel all day.” He motioned to the screen where Daisy was spread out on the bed and Alek was sitting on a chair next to her, staring at her like a total creeper.

“Is he always that weird?”

“I have no clue what happened between him and that girl. I came back and he was like a new man. I think it’s sweet? Or weird? I’m probably not the best judge. Want to get those arms free?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“For all I know, you could be the type who likes to lie in bed all day,” he said as he came over to the bed, climbing on top of me just like he had the night before.

He swung a knee over my stomach and diverted his attention to my wrists, working on the intricate knots I’d only tightened over the past few hours.

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see that handsome face so close to mine. It was bad enough I could smell the earthy scent that mixed pine and ash.

A combination of vibrant and destructive. So apt.

“When I get you loose, don’t move too quickly.” He spoke softly because his mouth was so close to my ear. It felt like an intimate moment between two people, and not a captor undoing my wrist restraints.

“Afraid I’ll give you another concussion?”

“Your arms are going to be stiff and cramping from being stuck there all night. I know this from experience. I’ll walk you through how to ease back into movement.” The first wrist was free and for some godforsaken reason, I actually listened to him and stayed still.

I don’t know if it was because I believed what he said or because he’d once again surprised me. The second knot went quicker, and then Borya was lifting himself up. Not climbing off me, but just moving his weight up.

“Roll over,” he commanded.

At this point I was already in for a penny. What the hell was this guy planning? Keeping my arms up, I awkwardly shimmied until I was on my stomach.

This seemed like a safer position. I wouldn’t have to look at him, and he wouldn’t be sitting right beneath my tits. That had to be an improvement.

But then he started rubbing my shoulders. I let out a moan that had to be ripped straight out of one of the corniest porn productions ever made.

But damn, the moment his fingers touched my sore shoulders, it felt like heaven just orgasmed all over my back.

He rubbed my back up and down in slow and sure strokes, encouraging the blood to flow, awaking muscles.

It felt so damn good and made me hate him all the more.

“You know this is what Stockholm Syndrome is.”

“You can’t take a damn favor, can you?”

“You’re the reason I need the favor!” My shout was muffled by the pillow my face was shoved into. A lot of the vitriol went out of me as his thumbs dug into a knot between my shoulder blades. His touch turned my entire body to jelly. “Oh my god, I hate you so much.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Kitten. I’m going to make sure you don’t fall in love.” With that, he crawled off me, and I legit growled at his absence.

I didn’t want him to start the damn massage, but that didn’t mean I’d wanted him to stop, either. Once I felt like my body retained some semblance of solid form, I pushed myself up, belatedly remembering that I wasn’t wearing pants.

Jumping off the bed, I snatched them from where Borya had hung them over the edge of the bed. I hopped on one foot and then the other as I pulled them on, cursing softly to myself the entire time.

When Borya emerged, his hair was wet and slicked back. He was wearing a fresh change of clothes, like he’d just stepped from the shower. It wasn’t like he’d had time to do anything except…

No. I wasn’t thinking about why he’d gotten off me and then gone into a shower to… get off? Nope. Not going there.

“Hey, buddy. It’s time we talk.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. The motion made those biceps bulge, reminding me exactly how much bigger he was than me. Maybe I should tone down the snark, but I knew it wasn’t in my nature and wasn’t going to happen.

“What’s going on here? You said you took me for leverage. I don’t know if I’m reading the signals wrong, but this doesn’t feel… kidnappy. You know?”

His jaw tightened as he looked me up and down. “Are you saying I’ve been too lenient with you?”

“Why are you twisting everything I’m saying? You keep giving me whiplash! Am I supposed to be terrified? What the hell are we doing? Why did you give me a back rub?”

For a few long moments, he stared at me and didn’t say anything. Those eyes were dark and stormy, and he stared at me with murder in his gaze, as though he’d cut me down for daring to question his motives.

Maybe he should be pissed off. At least then I’d get something real out of him. Maybe then I could get him to decide what he wanted from me.

I quickly regretted that when he shot towards me, his hand gripping my throat and shoving me back against the panic room door.

I gripped at his wrist, but it might as well have been a steel bar. He lifted me up enough that my toes just barely touched the ground.

“You’re right. I have been too lenient with you, Kitten. I’ve forgotten to show you that I have claws, too.”

Not good. Not good at all.

And that's when he kissed me.