THE SOLDIER

“I will whip those pretty breasts with the new flogger I bought you. And then your belly. Your inner thighs. Your back. And finally your ass. I will turn your ass red-hot, and then I will lube it up and fuck it until your pussy weeps. And I won’t let you come, little slave.”

“N-now?” I gasp.

Thankfully Pavel understands. “Come right now.” He makes the command sharp, like I might disobey, and I go off. I plunge two fingers in my channel just to feel my walls squeeze while I use the heel of my hand to press and rub my clit.

“Ohhhh-oh. Wow.” I sigh.

“You’ve got me harder than stone here, blossom. And I don’t have that hot, wet perfect mouth of yours to take care of me.”

“S-sorry, Master.” My limbs feel like liquid gold is coursing through them, blissful relaxation soaking through my entire body.

“Now, malysh, you go to that studio and show them this. Beautiful, beautiful you. And they will scramble to find the part that is perfect for you.”

“Thank you, Master,” I whisper. I feel wonderful again. “I love you.”

“I love you, Kayla,” he murmurs back, and the hugest smile beams back at me from the mirror. “Break a leg.”

“Thank you. Love you. Goodbye.”

I end the call feeling like the flower Pavel sees me as. Opened by him. Nearing full-bloom.

Pavel

I hear from Kayla Wednesday that she got a part on a series Ensign named. Her joy almost made it worth living with the knowledge that Ensign was still breathing. I had Dima transfer Ensign’s money back to his account although I considered making him sweat for a few more days.

I sent Kayla three dozen multi-colored roses to congratulate her, but the need to tell her in person made me stupid. I’m already on thin ice around here, but I asked Ravil if I could leave early for the weekend, and he flat-out refused.

“Make your choice,” he said.

No one’s going to hand you the life you want. You have to take it.

So I choose.

I fucking choose Kayla. If Ravil wants to kill me for it, he will. But I don’t believe that’s what he has in store for me. He’s showing me how to control my own destiny, the way he controlled his, even while under Igor’s heel.

I knock on Maxim and Sasha’s door Thursday noon. “You done making Sasha scream yet?” I ask when Maxim comes to the door with his shirt off and hair tousled.

“Don’t talk about my wife unless you want to die,” he returns easily. “What do you want?”

“To buy you both lunch.”

“Oh, damn. I sense a pitch coming.”

Yes, I am that douche.

“Pavel’s pitching?” Sasha calls out. “Ooh-I can’t wait to hear it. Do I get to come?”

“I believe you just did,” Maxim brags. “Several times, on my tongue.”

“I did not consent to hear that.” I put my fingers up to my eyes like blinders.

“Of course you get to come, it’s your money, caxapok.”

“Which you control,” she pouts, appearing behind Maxim in a silky purple bathrobe, her red hair in a wild tangled mess from their love-making.

“We’ll be out in thirty,” Maxim promises.

“Yeah?” Frankly, I can’t believe he didn’t already shut me down. The fact that he’s even entertaining my pitch gives me hope.

Maxim smirks as he shuts the door. “Sure. You never pay for lunch.”

I find my own lips lifting a little. Maybe this all could work.

Sasha and Maxim emerge in twenty minutes. Sasha’s wearing a bustier over a long-sleeved sheer top, showing off her brick house body, as usual. Maxim allows it because it brings Sasha joy. Exuberance for life is her personality, but I’m sure he’d like to kill every man who looks, myself included. Obviously, I take pains not to ever look.

“There he is,” Sasha says as she breezes past the kitchen and catches my arm. “I can’t wait to hear the whole scoop.”

“Don’t touch him,” Maxim minces through gritted teeth, and Sasha flashes a wide grin before she behaves and drops my arm. Maxim, our fixer, somehow managed to tame his rebellious bride but just barely.Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

We pull on our jackets. “Where are we going?” Sasha asks.

“You pick,” I tell her.

“Let’s walk to that new gyro place. I’m starving.” She throws the door open and breezes into the elevator.

“Cheap date,” I mutter as Maxim and I follow. “I like it.”

“She’s not your date,” Maxim growls.

“Poor choice of words,” I agree.

“So what did you do to the director?” Sasha purrs when we’re inside the elevator heading to the ground floor.

“Don’t ask him that,” Maxim warns, not that I would tell.

“I heard she got a part.” Sasha lifts her brows and a ripple of warning makes the hair at the back of my neck stand. If Sasha put it together, how long before Kayla does?

My heart inexplicably speeds up like I’m in danger. Maybe I am. Danger of toppling this card house I’m trying to construct with Kayla.

Somehow, Sasha reads my alarm. “Ah, so you were responsible. I figured. She doesn’t know,” she assures me. “She thinks she got it on her own. You’d better make sure it stays that way.”

“You’d better-” I start, then modify my tone when Maxim’s nostril’s flare. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Please don’t tell her.”

“Aw, Pavel said please.” Sasha flicks a delighted look Maxim’s way. “Love is changing him.”

I want to deny I’m in love, but I stop myself because it would be a lie. I am in love. That’s the whole point of this lunch. I’m in love, and I’m trying to figure out how to make a life with the girl that stitched the shreds of my soul back together.

The elevator stops on the ground floor, and we get out and walk past Maykl, a bratva brigadier, who serves as a doorman for the building. A very well-armed and protective doorman.

“Sasha?” I try not to say it in a growl.

Maykl jogs to open the door for her.