Stolen by the Sinner (Russian Torpedo Book 1) Read online

  Inhaling a deep breath, I hurry toward him and wrap my arms around him in a quick hug. He returns the embrace, kissing me on each cheek before he takes a step back and looks down at me. As soon as his eyes find mine, his lips turn down in a frown.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I slide my fingers through my hair, then reach for the bottle of champagne. Lifting it to my lips, I suck back as much as I can without coughing it out of my nose. Once I’ve consumed at least three glasses worth, I lower the bottle and give him a smile before I speak.

  “I’m sure that I will be.”

  Chapter 2

  DANILL

  Barry Wanger.

  That is who I am supposed to take care of and make it look like a suicide. Should be easy enough, on paper he’s fairly pathetic.

  His wife, though they’re legally married, lives in Paris full time and keeps several lovers. He is not devoted to her, so I’m not sure if he knows about her activities or simply does not care.

  Then there is the fact that his daughter left his home eight years ago when she was just fifteen. He’s been paying for her lifestyle, including her Santa Monica apartment and all of her bills. She doesn’t work. She doesn’t, and never did, attend college. From what I can gather, she parties, and spends money.

  So, to be certain, it seems as if this man doesn’t have much. No relationship with his immediate family. No serious lovers, or even consistent ones. No wife at home, nothing but his things and his money. For the men that I know in the Bratva, this would be devastating. It would be rectified before it ever got to this state though.

  Maybe this man cares not. It’s up to me to figure out how to get in and how to make all of this look like an accident, then pay off the people who need to document that apparent accident on paper.

  I didn’t ask Fyodor why he wanted Wanger taken out. It’s not my place. There could be a million different reasons, but none of them matter. All that does is that he’s asked me to do this, he’s paying me, and he wouldn’t do either if it wasn’t tied to the Bratva in some way.

  Fyodor could get in some serious fucking trouble if he used a Torpedo to take care of his personal business. We have rules. We may not believe in conventional laws, but we have our own and they are not to be defied.

  Ever.

  Pulling up to Barry Wanger’s house in the Hills, I watch as a sporty little Porsche zooms out of the driveway. I recognize the flash of blonde hair that whizzes by me and I decide that Wanger can wait another day, I’m going to take a little look deeper into my prize.

  She drives toward Santa Monica and I stay paced behind her. I don’t think that I have to worry about her catching on to me following her. From what I’ve gathered, she’s pretty much as lost to her own world as Barry is his.

  When she pulls up to a club, I watch her unfold from the car and my cock hardens instantly. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I don’t know if Fyodor knew how truly beautiful she was when he told me to just take her for myself.

  But he did and I’m going to. It’s not something I would have agreed to a year ago, but I’m getting older, making my way closer to forty every year. I need to settle down, and she appeals to me more than anyone else I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Is it wrong?

  Absolutely.

  Am I going to do it anyway?

  Absolutely.

  Will I feel guilty about it?

  Absolutely not.

  Leaving my own Audi with the valet, I follow behind her. They don’t make her get in the back of the line, nor do they me. They know understated money when they see it. I may not dress with flash, but everything I own is more expensive than these bouncers could dream of owning.

  Plus, my Vacheron Constantin watch doesn’t lie. I’m a big goddamn spender and somebody, even if they don’t know who.

  Walking into the club, I take a moment to look around. It’s like any other club, but then again, it’s not. This isn’t for the lower class, fuck, it’s not even for the middle class. This is for the upper crust and it’s obvious in every person here.

  Every person on the dance floor is money from their shoes to their heads. They are not my concern though. I only have an interest in one person in this entire building.

  It doesn’t take me long to find her.

  She’s standing toward the VIP roped-off area next to a man. But it’s clear that she’s not with him, her body language says comfort, but not lover. She has a bottle of champagne to her lips and is gulping down the contents.

  The man next to her reaches out and touches her shoulder. I watch as she turns to him, her eyes wide, and then she nods her head before she turns and runs toward the dance floor. I don’t let a single man get a chance to touch, dance, or even see her before I close the distance between us and am directly behind her.

  HOLLAND

  I’m not sure if he saw me when he walked through the door, but I sure as shit saw him. He’s gorgeous. He has short, impeccably styled hair. His clothes, shoes, and watch lush as shit, I caught their quality from across the room.

  They aren’t dupes.

  They’re real.

  He has money, but beyond that, he’s not cocky and gaudy about it. He just has it, he knows it, he doesn’t need to boast about it.

  Fuck, he’s hot, too.

  I can’t remember the last time I even went on a date and seeing him is just too much. I decide to dance, because if I don’t, I’ll be watching him all night long and it will just turn into this weird obsession and I don’t need anything extra right now.

  Shaking my head, I turn to Nate and let him know that I’m going to go and dance. I need to get this guy off of my mind. I need to forget he exists.

  I start to dance and almost immediately, I feel someone’s fingers wrap around my waist. Spinning around, I look up and come face-to-face with the man himself. The bad decision dressed in designer. Jesus, but he’s even more gorgeous up close.

  The blue of his eyes is so light that they’re almost white. I gasp at the sight. They’re focused on me as his fingers apply pressure against my lower back, forcing me closer to him. Although, I don’t think he’d really have to force me. I have a feeling my body would go willingly.

  I open my mouth to say something, but no words will come out. He leans forward, his lips resting against the shell of my ear.

  “Dance, kroshka.”

  His words come out almost as a purr. I don’t know what he’s said, but it’s sexy a shit in whatever language he’s speaking. I dance, just as he’s demanded. I let him take the lead. I don’t know why, but my body wants to please him.

  Lifting my arms, I wrap them around his neck as I shift my body closer to his. Pressing my chest against his, I almost whimper as my nipples harden and rub against his strong muscles. Jesus. He’s not overly huge, but he’s definitely hard under there.

  “What’s your name?” I breathe.

  He chuckles, and his chest vibrates against mine. My lips part as my eyes flutter closed. I’m wet for him, instantly. He’s not only hot, sexy, and completely gorgeous, he makes me want him. I would never classify myself as horny, I don’t really care for the word, but right now, that’s exactly what I am.

  This man could put his hand beneath my skirt, he could lift said skirt, and he could fuck me right here. I think that I would let him. I’m not sure that I would tell him no about any of it. Licking my lips, I continue to dance, waiting for him to tell me his name because I know without a doubt it’s going to be absolutely sexy as shit.

  “Danill Belsky,” he rasps.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  Right.

  Now.

  One of his hands slides down to my ass. He grips me tightly there, and holds my body still, firmly, against him. Sucking in a breath, my lips press together as we dance. We continue this way the entire song, then another, and another.

  We don’t speak.

  Our bodies doing all of the talking and I’m perfectly okay with that.

  I’ve never met anyone that I’ve been so instantly attracted to before like this and I’m completely mesmerized, not only by him, but also by my body’s reaction to him. I just can’t believe how badly I want this man.

  Crave him.

  Almost need him.

  He dips his chin, his lips against the shell of my ear again and I think that he’s going to kiss me, but instead he speaks. His accent is light, I can hardly even tell he has one, but it’s there nonetheless.

  “Come. Let’s go home,” he murmurs.

  “Home?” I ask.

  He lifts his head, those eyes find mine and his lips curve up into a grin. “Yes,” he says.

  Then he lowers his lips to mine. He holds them there for a long moment, neither kissing me nor pulling away. I can taste him. He tastes like mint and tobacco. My god, it’s sexy as shit. Everything about him is, I’ve just decided that. I bet his car is sexy too. Maybe even his sheets.

  Fuck.

  Sheets.

  Home with him.

  “Where do you live?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer right away and I realize that this is so stupid. I should not be asking him where he lives, I should not be even thinking about going home with him. Then I wonder why I’m doing this at all. I never do this.

  Most people probably assume that I’ve been with a lot of men. I’ve done enough partying that someone would think that. But only a few people know that I’ve only ever been with two men.

  I’ve partied a lot.

  I’ve gotten myself in some tight spots, but I’ve managed to at least keep some part of myself sacred and honored. Even if it surely wasn’t my liver.

  “West Hollywood West,” he murmurs against my lips.

  Jerking my head back, my eyes widen. I don’t thi
nk I’ve ever met anyone who lives in West Hollywood, any part of it. I didn’t know people really lived there anymore. I don’t know why, but I assumed that part of Los Angeles was left to rot.

  “We’ll go to my place. I live a mile away,” I state, instead of asking him why the fuck he would live in West Hollywood.

  His lips twitch into a smirk and then he takes a step back. He is the victor. He is the king, and me? I’m probably nothing but the court jester, but I don’t think I could even live with myself if I didn’t have him tonight.

  Selfishly, I want him. He’s too beautiful to just not have for myself.

  Chapter 3

  DANILL

  Is meeting her face-to-face, then going home with her the smartest move in the world?

  Definitely not.

  Will it be my most rewarding… We shall see.

  I’m not someone who can just take something that I’m going to keep for any length of time if I haven’t tried it out for myself. So, instead of waiting until I take care of Wanger to keep his daughter for myself, I decide to take the opportunity and have her now.

  Test drive the future, if you will.

  There are other things that I could do with her if I don’t wish to keep her for myself. We’ll see how this evening goes though, so far it is very promising. Very fucking promising. Maybe I won’t have to actually steal her, maybe she’ll want to just stay with me willingly.

  She doesn’t want to get in my car with me, apparently, that is something that is beyond the boundaries that she has set. Even though she’s going to let me fuck her inside of her own home. Being in the same car is simply too much. I almost laugh, but instead, I just smile and nod.

  I don’t argue with her, mainly because I do want to fuck her. The rest of the shit doesn’t matter. She should be goddamn terrified of me. I would be if I were her. I’m the last fucking person anyone should ever trust.

  Pulling up to her place, I smile. It’s an apartment. I knew that it was, but seeing the whole building, it makes me realize that yes, it’s a nice space, but I live in a house. However, what makes this any kind of special is that it’s on the beach and swanky as shit. I know quality when I see it. I know what is expensive and what is impostor trash.

  This shit is legit.

  Maybe I’ll buy it when I take care of Barry. That way, we can get away from West Hollywood West when we want. Be on the beach, enjoy the fresh sea air.

  Unfolding from my car, I jog toward her and open her door. She doesn’t jump out immediately. Instead, she turns to me, her lips parted as she stares up from the driver’s seat.

  “You opened the door for me,” she whispers.

  Leaning down slightly, I extend my hand. “You’re a good little kroshka and I’ll open more than that for you,” I offer on a murmur.

  She gasps, sounding as though I’ve offended her, but I know that I haven’t. I can tell by the look in her eyes, the way that they sparkle. She wants that, all of what my words imply. Her lips curve up into a grin and she nods her head once, then takes my hand and shifts her legs over the seat, her heels touching the pavement, before standing to her feet directly in front of me.

  Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her close to my chest. She tilts her head back, her lips gently parted as she looks up at me. She looks like she needs to be kissed, that she wants it, craves it, but I don’t give in to her temptations.

  Not yet.

  Taking a step back, I wrap my hand around hers and together we make our way up to her apartment. Though I’m using the term apartment loosely. This is not what I imagined when I saw the outside of the building. When I walk inside, I’m a bit surprised that her place is at least three thousand square feet and two stories.

  It’s more like a penthouse and less than an apartment and what I think I’m more surprised at is the fact that she’s lived here since she was just fifteen, all alone. It’s a pretty big space for a young girl to stay all by herself the way she did.

  I wonder if she’s stronger than outward appearances seem. She plays a good party girl, but I think there could be more to her. It’s my intention to find out if there’s something else beneath her outward layer. I’m going to start tonight and then I’ll decide if she’s worth finding out more about. If she’s worth taking for myself.

  HOLLAND

  He’s so sexy.

  I’ve dated some beautiful men in my time. Walked the red carpet with celebrities and models. But I don’t think any of them could hold a candle to the man who is looking around my apartment. I don’t know if he’s judging the opulence, or if he’s trying to figure out how I pay for this.

  Doesn’t matter.

  Once he finds out who my father is, he’ll learn the truth. I’m nothing special. I’m nothing but a spoiled little rich girl and he’ll either be into that or he’ll bounce. Unless he already knows who I am? He’s not giving me any vibes that he does. I can usually tell, but I can’t read this man, not at all.

  I’m thinking if he doesn’t already know, once he finds out who I am, he’s the type to bounce.

  They always do.

  This time is going to be different, though, because I’m going to fuck him. I usually don’t do that. I don’t get that far, or they don’t, whatever the case, it doesn’t happen.

  He turns to me, lifting his hand, he extends his index finger and touches the tip of my nose. Then he drops his gaze, his eyes finding mine.

  “Come, kroshka.”

  “What does it mean?” I ask.

  His lips twitch into a small smile. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

  “But today is not that day?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “Correct, let’s go… unless?” he asks, then turns his head to look back at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the ocean.

  “Unless?” I ask breathlessly.

  His lips curve up into a grin. “Unless you want to fuck against that window, maybe outside? It’s a nice night.”

  “Danill,” I breathe.

  He snorts, then before I realize what’s happening, his warm hand is wrapped around the front of my throat in a firm grip.

  “You want that?” he asks, his tone sharp and almost angry sounding.

  “Not really,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

  He nods his head, dipping his face closer to mine. He doesn’t loosen his grip around my neck, but doesn’t loosen it either. “We only do what you want, Holland. That is, unless I think you can take more and trust me, you’d like it.”

  “Yeah?” I ask. He nods his head, but I continue. “Do you think I don’t know what I want?”

  I’m trying to sound tough, trying to sound sure. Trying to sound like I know exactly what I want and how I want it. The truth is, it’s been so long, and my last boyfriend wasn’t nearly as exciting as even the promise of Danill. I honestly don’t know what I want or how I want it, but I’m not going to admit that out loud.

  “Oh, kroshka. You have no idea what you want.”

  I open my mouth to say something, to attempt to deny it, but he doesn’t let me speak even a word. Instead, he presses his mouth to mine and his tongue invades me and it’s the sweetest invasion I’ve ever encountered.

  When his hand leaves my throat, I suck in a breath, except it’s his breath that I take inside of me. Instantly, I’m light-headed and I wonder what would happen if I only breathed his air. If it was him giving me life, and only him.

  His lips shift from mine, moving down the side of my neck and to the hollow of my throat. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall backward. He sucks on my skin, his teeth sinking down into my flesh. Then he releases it and takes a step backward.

  Lifting my head, I look at him. His eyes are downcast and I lift my hand, touching my neck when I realize that’s what he’s looking at. There is a moment of silence between us and I’m not sure what he wants, but I feel the intense urge to walk toward him.

  I don’t.

  Instead, I turn from him and kick off my high heels, then I prance toward my bedroom. I know he’s going to follow, at least I hope that he does. Before I lose any of my nerve, I start to undress on my way.