Torrid (Sordid 2)

Vasilije’s mother.

I faced the man in the room, who was responsible for that woman’s death.

“Close the door,” Goran ordered. He knelt at the fireplace and turned the key beside it, making orange-yellow flames burst to life over the ceramic logs. “The insulation has always been terrible in here. The window lets out all the heat.”

He straightened and his gaze evaluated me surgically.

“You’re a skittish little thing.” His tone was amused. He’d noticed how I was trembling, and seemed to enjoy my apprehension. “Do you speak, girl?”

I forced it out. “Yes. What did you want to talk about?”

If he advanced on me, I’d step to the side rather than backward, and move toward the ornate desk with the gun in the bottom drawer.

“Vasilije shouldn’t have brought you to dinner the other night.”

No, he shouldn’t have, but like I had a choice in going? I bit back the response and chose to stare at the flickering flames rather than the imposing man in front of me. We stood several feet apart, and yet he was much too close.

“You overheard us talking about things I would have preferred you didn’t.”

Had Goran only come here to tell me to keep my mouth shut? I straightened, feeling the first tug of relief. “I don’t repeat things that aren’t my business.”

Usually a smile was meant to put a person at ease, but I was learning a Markovic grin signaled danger.

“You do seem like the quiet type.” He took his first step in my direction, and I knew it was just the beginning. I shifted subtly toward the desk as he kept talking. “I’m partial to women who can be quiet.”

It was so heavy with meaning, it was crushing, and he took another step. I adjusted, keeping the distance between us.

“The club the Russian man mentioned at dinner,” he said, “has women like you. They’re young, and beautiful, and they don’t speak unless told. In fact, they’ll be absolutely silent if I tell them to.” Goran’s stride was larger than mine and he was gaining ground. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. Fucking them, getting rough, however I want. They are paid to obey, and I enjoyed going to that club very much.”

The side of the desk dug into my thigh. Even with heat pouring from the fireplace, it was arctic in the office. Goran casually rested a hand on his belt, but this movement had a threatening purpose. Like Vasilije, his uncle preferred an under-the-arm holster, and the grip of his black gun appeared beneath the side of his suitcoat.

“Since I can’t go there anymore,” he said, “you will be an adequate replacement.”

29

I bit down on the side of my cheek once more and tried not to react. The words tasted strange coming out of my mouth, but not unpleasant. “I’m with Vasilije.”

Goran shot me a look of disdain. “Then, be with Vasilije. I don’t care.” His heavy voice was absolute. “But when I’m here, you’ll do what I want.”

Fear was a hard lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow down. Vasilije wouldn’t share. “He won’t allow that.”

“He won’t like it, but perhaps now he’ll think twice about challenging my orders.”

“If I touch anyone else, he’ll kill me.”

Goran’s shoulders lifted in an indifferent shrug. “You can come with me. My house is even larger than this one. I’ll figure out somewhere to put you.”

That wasn’t an option. Vasilije wouldn’t care if I was forced or not. Leaving him for his uncle would be the ultimate betrayal. Goran had taken Vasilije’s mother and destroyed their entire family in the process. He was possessive of me like a child with his favorite toy. Vasilije didn’t love, but he cared about me in his own way.

And . . . I felt it, too. I hoped to turn him into a partner, and the connection to him wasn’t like anything else I’d had.

The man peering at me with desire dripping off his expression would never see me as a partner. He’d fuck me to screw over Vasilije, and once I’d served my purpose, I’d be taken care of with a bullet, or something slower and more painful.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

Goran blinked and delivered an evil smile. “All right.” He glanced at the couch. “Have a seat.”

My knees nearly gave out.

If I called to Whitney for help, he might lose his patience with me, or do something to her. I was on my own, and I had to make my decision right now. Either I went for the gun, or I abandoned that plan and followed his order. I might not get another chance, unless I was able to wrestle his gun away from him, but that seemed impossible. He was much bigger and stronger.

But if I killed his uncle, Vasilije was going to be pissed. Mostly, because he wanted to do it himself.