His Queen of Clubs (Vegas Underground 6)

“Uh uh,” he barks from the bed. “No clothing for you. You lost privileges.”

I can’t take him too seriously. I may have been afraid when he brought me in, but after the tenderness he showed me, I know where I stand.

“Oh yeah?” I purr. I go back to the bed and straddle his waist.

He grips my ass and hikes my hips up to grind over his cock. When I rub my bare breasts against his face, he groans. “You have me right where you want me, don’t you?”

“Do I?” I ask innocently.

He catches my jaw and brings my face down for another hard kiss. “I’d probably give you anything you asked for right now.”

“Set me free.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “Not that.”

“Let me call my brothers.”

He groans and rolls his eyes, but appears to be thinking.

He’s totally going to let me.

“Nyet.”

What? Seriously? “Why not?” I demand.

“Because it will make you sad. I want to make you happy right now.”

Damn. It’s hard to argue with that logic, since I cried last time I saw them on the screen.

This guy is pretty sweet for a kidnapper.

“I do have one small surprise for you,” he offers, palming my breasts and teasing the nipple with his thumb.

I brighten. “You do?”

“Da.”

I wait, but he continues toying with my nipple. Finally he sighs and lifts me off his lap and onto my feet. “I don’t want to leave you.” He climbs off the bed to stand.

“So take me with you,” I offer brightly.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head like it pains him. “You’re on restriction, zaika.” He cradles the back of my neck and pulls me into him, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” He releases me and pulls his clothing on, then leaves me in the room.

I don’t hear the key turn in the lock.

I go and check it.

He left it open. Does he trust me to obey him now?

Or he just wasn’t willing to lock the door after what we just shared?

Either way, it feels good to me. I’m not going to test it by leaving.

I climb on the bed and lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Vlad’s belt still swings from the rafter, which makes me smile. My body buzzes from the orgasms, limbs relaxed and rubbery, skin sensitive.

This is my life now. Vlad’s wife, until he grows tired of me.

Is it weird that I don’t think it’s so bad? That part of me is happy to have the choice removed, to be stuck with this dangerous, beautiful man five thousand miles from home.

Vlad returns shortly, carrying a bowl of yogurt with fruit in it and my tablet, which I had left in the living room.

“That’s your surprise?”

“No. It’s coming. This is to tide you over until dinner. I know you’re hungry.”

I take the bowl gratefully. I am hungry, actually. Starving. “How do you know?” I peer up at him as I take a spoonful.

He shrugs. “I know you.”

I know you.

Simple words. A simple sentiment. Yet it strikes me at that moment how true his words are. He does know me. Not even my own mother knows my rhythms and needs as well as this man.

I shovel another bite into my mouth. “So dinner’s coming?”

“Da.”

“And the surprise.”

“Da.”

“Is dinner the surprise?” I guess.

His lips twitch. “Maybe.” He opens my tablet and swipes across the screen. As usual, his fingers work quickly. A few moments later, music fills the room. It’s Daft Punk—one of the songs I requested. I’d made the longest list I could come up with, with many obscure songs and bands, just to annoy him.

“My playlist?” I guess. “Is this the surprise? When did you have time to download it?”

He watches me, affectionate amusement making the normally harsh planes of his face appear soft and youthful. “I had it on my computer. I just transferred it over.”

“Thank you.” I take the tablet and sit cross-legged on the bed to scroll through. Vlad found every single song I requested. And loaded them in the exact order I wrote them down.

Satisfaction flows through me. And something else. Something dangerous...happiness.

Thirty minutes after Vlad came back, a knock sounds at the door. “That’s our dinner,” he says. “Go wait in the bathroom.”

“You could just let me wear clothes,” I protest, hopping off the bed.

“Nyet. No clothes for you.” He slaps my ass and I scurry forward, out of his way.

I wait in the bathroom until he calls me back and then I burst into laughter when I see what’s on the tray.

French fries.

Home made, not the frozen kind. Fresh out of a fryer.

“Is this my surprise?”

Vlad nods. “You said you like french fries. I ordered a fryer and Zoya made them fresh for you.”

I laugh, and then suddenly I’m crying.

“Alessia?” Vlad crosses quickly over to me and takes my shoulders. “What’s wrong? What is it?”