Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2)

Chapter 3

Grigori

Tension gathersat the base of my skull, setting off a throbbing headache. Glancing towards the door, I let my mind wander to Chelsea. No doubt by now she's snuggled into her bed and touching herself like I ordered her not to. I can't help the smile easing across my face as I think about her. For too long, I've grown complacent with submissives who know me, who know my life and what I do - ready to do what I say at the snap of a finger for fear of their lives. Little miss Chelsea doesn't know how much she should actually fear me, and that decadent tendril of spite that colors every word out of her mouth is just delicious. It's annoying as hell, but it's time for me to shake things up.

Glancing at the men in front of my desk, I force my brain away from her curvy form and onto the matters at hand. The way they glance at each other, hands wringing when they think I can't see them, tells me there's more going on than they're revealing. Leaning back into my chair, I stretch my arms over my head, the motion opening the flaps of my jacket to reveal a set of guns. I know they see it. The way their faces pale and their glances dart away tell me everything.

"I didn't call you in here for excuses. I called you in here so you can give me answers. It's been months now, and according to you both, she's just disappeared? I will not accept that."

Both men flinch as I rise back up in my chair and slam my fist on the desk. Serves them right. It's about time they remember exactly who and what I am and, more importantly, what I'm capable of. The shorter of the two wipes his hand across his brow before shifting his eyes to my jacket. The fine tremor of his body is barely visible, but it's enough to grab my attention. My hair stands on end as I zero in on his face. Sweat beads along his forehead, not daring to drip down into his face. A snarl forms low in the back of my throat as his eyes shift about, the fear almost palpable in the air.

My fingers dig into the wood of my desk as I prepare to rise up and give them both a tongue lashing that would hopefully convey just how in danger their lives are at this moment when my dogs lift their heads to scent the air. Low whines sent a jolt of alertness through my body as they both stand up and stare at the door. The men, oblivious to my two protectors, keep babbling nonsense and muttering promises.

"Sasha, Nikolai, down."

All eyes turn to the two before glancing back at me. Both dogs stand on high alert, ears up and forward, low growls rumbling in their throats. A frisson of unease skitters up my spine as I slide my hand inside my coat to palm my gun. At this point, I don't care about the men in front of me about to piss themselves. Instead, both the dogs and I stare at the door, awaiting whatever's coming. In a flurry of movement, the door bursts open, setting both dogs to raucous barking.

"Zamolchi!"

The voice that barks back is both familiar and welcome. Both dogs silence and hang their heads in the most pitiful manner, their luminous eyes looking between Ivan and me. The threat is gone, but so is their entertainment. I ease my fingers off of the gun and settle back into my chair, eyeing Ivan and the girl he has clutched in his arms. My girl. A sizzle of anger settles over me as I look at her cocooned in his grasp. She’d better be hurt and unable to walk for her to be in such an intimate embrace with my bodyguard.

"Leave us."

The men have the common sense to scramble over themselves in a mad dash for the door while Ivan just stands there, an immovable force. We lock eyes until the men leave, his expression speaking volumes. Any amicable thought I had at Chelsea's show of spirit leeches out of me as I watch her squirm about, trying to hide herself in Ivan's bulk. Seems to me this filly is still in desperate need to be broken. Once the door latches shut, Ivan drops Chelsea to the floor. Her pained yelp sparks an interested sniff from Nikolai, but Sasha stands up and makes her way around the desk. Shaking my head, I watch as the stubborn Borzoi lumbers over to her to sniff her hair and lick at the tears staining her cheeks.

"Sasha, heel!"

She looks up at me with those soulful eyes as she crosses her paws and lies down next to Chelsea, pink nose wriggling as she angles her long face over Chelsea's neck in a protective stance. Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head. Man's best friend indeed. The traitor.

"Sasha, leave her."

Muffled whines pepper the air as she stands up and circles Chelsea's prone form, her eyes shifting from the girl to me. There's no arguing with this dog. Once she has her mind set, that's it. Leaning over the desk, I watch, transfixed, as Chelsea curls into herself, not letting any bit of her touch Sasha. As she gets closer, Chelsea jerks away.

"She's not going to hurt you, Lastachka. Sasha's the most gentle soul I know. Unless you threaten me, that is. Now then, why don't you tell me why you're here on my floor instead of asleep in your comfy bed, hmm?"

At the slight bit of venom in my voice, Sasha turns to stand in between the girl and me. I clench my hands a few times, forcing the anger to dissipate. The longer she remains silent, the angrier I become. Looking at Ivan, I raise an eyebrow. He shrugs for a moment, his face turning beet red. Whatever the issue, my gut tells me I don't want to hear about it. I cross my arms, staring him down.

Chelsea cringes as Ivan recounts their little interlude. She must be reacting to his voice alone since he's speaking to me in Russian. That or her guilty conscience is finally eating away at her. As I listen to Ivan, I stare her down, watching her curl even tighter into herself. Normally this would be grounds for dismissal. Any submissive that would blatantly disobey my rules and have the gall to seduce my bodyguard either has a death wish or has bigger balls than I give them credit for.

Knowing Chelsea, she probably has a death wish. I hope to God she's not actually stupid enough to think this would actually work. I move out from around my desk and stand with my shoes just in front of her vision. Sasha whines a bit but thankfully doesn't interfere. Tapping my foot, I watch her eyes dart about before she cranes her neck up to look at me. Terror flits about in her depths, but she stays silent. She says nothing to defend herself. Hell, at this point, I'd even take her lying to me and telling me it was a misunderstanding.

As Ivan's story replays in my head, my temperature skyrockets. It would be a bald-faced lie too. There's no way of misunderstanding any of that. The thought of Ivan's hands on my submissive makes stars shoot across my vision. But I can't blame the man. Not entirely. Even now, as she's lying on my floor, bits of calf and thigh peek through the folds of the towel like some messed up burlesque show. Despite my anger, I still twitch as my eyes roam over her body.

"Nothing to say for yourself?"

She remains silent on the floor. Irritation spikes through me as I watch her. She needs to give me something. Anything. Even something as simple as, “I fucked up.” But no. This brat just lies there, thinking her problems will go away if she just stays still and closes her eyes. This, if I can't see you, you can't see me bullshit isn't going to fly.

"Answer me, Chelsea. You're already in a world of shit. Stop making it worse on yourself."

Instead of answering, she clambers up to her knees and sits there for a moment before leaning forward and laying her cheek on my shoe. Dumbstruck, I watch her go through these motions. As far as I'm aware, there were no set protocols demanded of the submissives in The Society. Every Dom wants something different from their chosen submissive, so it would be stupid to train them to act certain ways in intimate situations. Suspicion niggles at the back of my brain as she lies there, her breathing deep and even. Someone trained her to do this.

Snarling, I yank my foot out from under her face, not even caring at that moment if I harm her. Her yelp and soft thud as she faceplants into the floor fills me with elation for just that moment - until everything else comes crashing in. Fighting through multitudinous layers of anger, I close my eyes and take deep, even breaths. Not allowing myself to even look at her until I’ve calmed down.

Her soft sniffles reach my ears, but I tune them out. No doubt she thinks her crocodile tears will get her out of yet another mess. Shaking my head, I hazard a glance down, shoving my irritation to the far back to deal with later. What else can I do? No submissive has ever dared defy me like Chelsea.

I squash the blossoming admiration under the very real fear that I won’t be able to control her in time. Every second wasted in these stupid games is yet another second I have to wait before putting her in the club. A slight tremor rolls through me as I contemplate her real purpose.

I should feel guilty for tormenting the girl only to hand her over to my sworn enemy, but luckily that useless emotion was cut out years ago. Rubbing my chest, I will the phantom pains away, forcing myself to focus on the sniveling brat at my feet.

“How dare you bring another man’s protocol to me.” I kneel before bringing her tear-stained face up to meet mine. “The hubris you have astounds me. Not only do you openly defy me, you think to enlist the aid of my bodyguard? Are you that stupid?”

She winces at my acrid words but remains silent. The doe-eyed looks she gives me ramps up my anger even more. I could understand just about any other action, but to try to seduce the one man that is the most loyal to me? Looking over her head, I watch as Ivan shuffles about. Something happened. My heart plummets for just a moment as I watch him looking everywhere but at Chelsea and me.

Shaking my head, I remind myself of her true purpose. I shouldn’t care if she fucks my entire staff. She’s here for a job and nothing more. Gripping my fingers into a fist, I grind my hand against my breastbone. Feelings only make you weak. Tipping my chin up, I refuse to look Chelsea in the eyes again. I’m not going to let her drag me down into her sentimentality.

I stand up, forcing Ivan’s gaze with glare. After a few moments, he retells everything that went on between them. I clench and release my fingers the longer he talks. Chelsea has the blatant audacity to look annoyed at him. Cutting him off with a wave of my hand, I peer down at her. She meets my glare with a steady gaze. Fearless. Scenarios fly through my brain as we stare at each other, locked in what feels like a stalemate.

“Before I decide on your punishment, I just want to make sure I understand exactly where your mind was. What sane girl, after being nearly flayed alive, thinks to run off with one of my men? Then, when confronted, tries to fake submission by re-enacting scenes she had with the fuck toy that caused her to be punished in the first place!”

Chelsea’s jaw drops as I lay into her with my tirade. The mottled red of her face doesn’t seem to be all left over blotches from crying. Anger, fierce and hot, simmers in her eyes. In her defense, I meant every verbal blow to land as hard as it did. The fact that she thought she could get away with all of it boggled my brain and had me questioning her very sanity.

“What,” she shoots back, all pretenses dropped. “Not man enough to admit that I might have actually succeeded? Ivan wanted me. I’ve been around enough of you horny jackasses to know when someone’s about to snap. Been fucked by several of them too.”