The Bastard's Bargain Read online

“Romanov, if you’ve hurt my sister, you won’t have a chance to start a war, because I’ll kill you myself.”

  Chapter Eight

  Keira slept late, but eventually her curtains couldn’t block out the sun enough to keep hiding. Humiliation almost kept her in bed despite that, but she wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. Last night she’d almost said to hell with it and taken Dmitri up on the promise his body had been making. Almost. But she hadn’t. She’d managed to hang on to her tiny edge, and she would damn well keep doing it until she had a better plan.

  In the meantime, her stomach was growling, and boredom made her twitchy. She spent a solid five minutes staring at the bathroom cabinet where she’d stashed her vodka, before forcing herself to grab a quick shower instead. Drinking now had no purpose, and she had been weak enough last night without adding to the shit show. Get some alcohol in her, and she didn’t trust herself not to track Dmitri down and do something really stupid, like sit on his face. Keira threw on the first things she found—black jeans, a long-sleeved gray knitted sweater, and thick wool socks.

  She peeked out her door, but there wasn’t anyone in the halls. Even though she knew Dmitri must have men stationed around, she’d yet to see any of them, and it was…strange. Back home, the house was filled with people. Two of her brothers and their women lived there, along with Olivia’s kid, Hadley. Dmitri’s niece. Not to mention the half dozen men who were there at any given time for protection and to run whatever schemes Aiden had going.

  Compared to that, the Romanov home was a ghost house. It felt like she and Dmitri were the last two people on earth, and she was pretty sure she hated him, so that didn’t bode well for the future.

  Does it get lonely for him here?

  She’d always considered Dmitri to be some stone-cold angel who existed without the needs of a normal human, but last night there had been desire in his eyes. He felt things, no matter how well he covered them up. He was a mostly only child and his parents were both dead, his half sister and her kid gone, and there was only the man and this stupidly large house…

  Stop it. Stop humanizing him. He’s a big boy and he can take care of himself. The only reason he brought you here is because he needed you to secure his power. Do not forget that.

  She headed for the kitchen and threw together a quick breakfast with two eggs—her usual. Normally in the mornings, she was so hungover that she had to force herself to eat, but Keira found her fork scraping the empty plate and her stomach still demanding more, so she dug through the refrigerator and came up with the makings for a smoothie, too. No one showed up by the time she was done, so she cleaned the dishes and set them in the small drying rack beside the sink.

  She was just considering her options when the phone hanging on the wall trilled. Keira looked around, but there wasn’t anyone else to answer it. While she was considering it, the ringing stopped…and promptly started up again. Oh yeah, that’s definitely for me.

  With a sigh, she walked over and picked it up. “Romanov kitchen, Keira speaking.”

  A pause. “Cheeky.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Hello, Dmitri, lovely morning we’re having. Is there something you need, or were you just enjoying interrupting my breakfast?” He had to either have people around here that she couldn’t see, or there was some kind of security equipment that she’d missed. She turned around to lean against the wall and narrowed her eyes. There didn’t appear to be a camera around, but the tech was fancy enough these days that she might not be able to pick it out. “You have cameras in this house.”

  “If I did, telling you would just make it easier for you to evade them.”

  Which was as good as admitting they were there. She shrugged her sweater off one shoulder. “Are you watching me right now?”

  “We don’t have time for games. Come to my office immediately.”

  Oh, Dmitri, there is always time for games. Especially when she needed a little boost after the way things had fallen out last night. Keira tugged her sweater down a little further, exposing her breast. She hoped like hell that the house was as empty as it seemed, or she was in danger of making a fool of herself. Too late. The train has already left the station.

  A strangled sound came down the line. “My. Office.”

  “Mmm. I’m enjoying myself.” She let her head rest against the wall and used her free hand to roll her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Pleasure sparked through her, the feeling only heightened by the knowledge that he was most definitely watching.

  She left her breast exposed and inched her sweater up until she could undo the button of her jeans. “I’ll be up in a few.” She dragged the zipper down.

  Dmitri cursed, sounding so fucking feral that she paused. He spoke slowly, his accent thick, clipping his words as if through gritted teeth. “If you’re going to touch your pussy, moya koroleva, I’m going to have to insist you come to my office, take off those pants, and spread yourself over my desk so I can appreciate it properly.”

  The image slammed into her, stealing her breath. Of him sitting in that chair between her thighs, not touching her, not until she gave him permission, and her naked and arched back, stroking herself while he watched avidly. She tried to catch her breath, feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “Sounds like a party.”

  The silence stretched out, timed to the beat of her erratic heart. If she followed through on it…Playing with fire doesn’t begin to cover it. “Dmitri—”

  “We have a situation.” He sounded more in control, though his tone was still ragged around the edges. “Come to my office immediately…please.”

  It was still an order, please or no please, but he was obviously trying to make an effort. That didn’t mean jack shit to her…or it shouldn’t. I’m bored enough, I might as well see what he wants.

  Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.

  She buttoned her jeans slowly and let her sweater drop back into place. “I’ll be right there.” Keira hung up before he could say anything else. She did her best not to think too hard about what she’d almost just done—what she still wanted to do. She filed away the information that Dmitri had cameras everywhere for later use. That had to be why he allowed her to wander without a muscly shadow at all times—and it also meant he was most likely watching her. She wanted to see his setup to be sure, but in the meantime, she wanted to know what he needed in his office.

  Somehow, she imagined it wasn’t going to be as fun as what he’d threatened her with.

  Dmitri wasn’t behind the desk when she walked through the door. He stood next to a man she vaguely recognized, speaking in low Russian. Note to self: learn Russian so they can’t talk about you when you’re standing here like an idiot.

  Yeah, going to get right on that.

  The conversation ended, and the man walked out. Keira glanced around the office, but there was no convenient set of monitors to display where the cameras were in the house. Another thing to add to the list. She squared her shoulders. “You rang?”

  “Da.” He looked her over and gave a short nod. “Come with me.”

  She dogged his heels as he headed out and wove through the hallways to a part of the house she hadn’t made it to yet. “Where are we going?”

  “Boston.”

  She missed a step. “What? Are you taking me home?”

  Dmitri spun around so fast, she almost ran right into him. He caught her shoulders, steadying her. Anchoring her. “Make no mistake, Keira, you are home. We are visiting your family for a short period of time and then driving back to New York.”

  Ah, so it wasn’t a generous gift, then. This was business. She really needed to work on not seeing the best in Dmitri. It was glaringly obvious the longer she spent in this house that there was no best in the Russian. There was just cold calculation and a willingness to move pawns about his personal chessboard without concern for their feelings. They were only pawns, after all.

  She waited to speak again until they were safely
in the back of yet another town car and pulling out of his garage. “I’m assuming I have some party line you want me to toe.”

  Dmitri crossed his ankle over his knee. “I expect you to tell the truth. You chose this. Your brother doesn’t believe it, and he’ll keep fighting to retrieve you until he does.”

  Oh, Aiden. She’d hoped his new fiancée would keep him busy, but she should have known better. The only thing Aiden loved as much as Charlie was his duty to his family. Keira might be the black sheep of the group, but he’d never stopped trying to look out for her.

  She leaned her head back against the seat. “I’ll talk to him.” He’d listened to Sloan, but Sloan was in a love match with a baby involved. Keira barely liked Dmitri on the best days. He hadn’t forced her to marry him but…She shot straight up. “Did you tell him we’re married?”

  Dmitri didn’t look over. “That’s one task to accomplish with this trip.”

  She couldn’t help it. She started laughing. “Oh. My. God. He’s going to kill you. You should have delivered the news over the phone. Or, better yet, by letter. Hell, smoke signals would have been preferable to putting yourself close enough from him to throttle you.”

  “Your brother will do no such thing.” He even sounded like he believed it.

  She just laughed harder. “You don’t know Aiden half as well as you think you do.” A thought stopped her cold. “Hey, if you get murdered, does that mean I inherit it all?”

  At that, he finally looked at her, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m your wife. That means I get it all.” She enjoyed his expression so much, she gave a little bounce. “Maybe this marriage thing isn’t half-bad.” She didn’t relish the thought of Dmitri’s death, but the idea of a truly outstanding amount of money at her disposal and no ties to anything was an intoxicating one.

  His hand closed over her knee, the touch shocking her back to the present. The heat of his hand soaked through the denim, branding her. It should have been innocent—it was her knee for fuck’s sake—but that heat shot straight to her core. Keira tried and failed not to shift to accommodate her body’s clench.

  She dragged her gaze to his face, finding him watching her in that predatory way again, gray eyes hooded. He stroked his thumb along the curve of the back of her knee. “Tell me, moya koroleva. What would you spend all that money on?”

  “Travel.”

  He raised his eyebrows, his hand inching higher. “To where?”

  Even though she knew the smart thing would be to slap his touch away, Keira uncrossed her legs and spread them, just a little. She held her breath as he seemed to consider her before sliding his hand slowly up her thigh, inch by torturous inch…stopping just south of where she ached. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She blinked at him, trying to focus. “I’d go anywhere. Everywhere. Fly to California and start driving south until I ran out of road, and then fly to Africa and do the same thing heading north.” She expected him to tell her all the reasons such a fanciful trip wasn’t an option, but he just studied her.

  His hand tightened, just a little, and she had to bite back a whimper. Dmitri shifted closer on the seat next to her and dragged his thumb over the zipper of her jeans. Over her clit. “Control and freedom—those are the things you crave.”

  I crave you. She didn’t say the damning words. She couldn’t. Instead she lolled her head to look up at him. “Do you have cameras in every room in the house?”

  “Nyet.” His grin made her breasts tighten in anticipation. “Not the bathrooms.”

  But every other room.

  Keira’s breath picked up in time with her heartbeat, little gasps that were almost pants. She had to fight not to arch into his touch as he kept up that torturous stroking. “If I finger myself on my bed, will you be watching—or one of your men?”

  He palmed her through her jeans, branding her there the same way he had her knee. “I’m the only one who has access to the feed from your room.”

  As if that made it better. I’m going to fuck with you so hard over this, Russian. She licked her lips. “And the library?”

  His brows slanted down. “You’re going to finger yourself in the library?” Dmitri shook his head. “I forbid it.”

  Keira’s laugh was more gasping than mocking, but she got it out all the same. “Didn’t stop me in the kitchen. Won’t stop me in any other room I choose.”

  “Then let’s make one thing clear.” He released her, but didn’t move back. “Undo your jeans.”

  Her hands shook as she obeyed, and she didn’t let herself think about how damn eager she was for this. It was all a game, and just because she wanted his hand down her pants didn’t mean she was going to jump on his cock in the back of this car. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  He stroked his hand down her stomach and into her jeans, delving beneath her panties. The shock of the contact drew a sharp exhale from her, but it turned into a moan as he pushed two fingers into her. Dmitri Romanov is finger fucking me in the backseat of his town car. I’m his wife. The world has gone mad.

  He let loose a string of Russian that sounded like a curse. When he switched back to English, his accent was thicker than she’d ever heard it. “Tell me, moya koroleva, were you wet because I was watching you in the kitchen, or because you wanted what I threatened to do to you in my office?”

  “Both.” She gripped the edge of the seat to keep from reaching for him, her breasts heaving with each breath. “Both turned me on.”

  He pumped slowly, leisurely. Her jeans kept him from withdrawing all the way, but that only made it hotter. He cupped her pussy like he owned it, and even though she knew she shouldn’t get off on that feeling, her body hadn’t gotten the memo. “Tell me something else.” He slid his fingers up to spread her wetness over her clit before pushing them into her again.

  “Hmm?” She was concentrating so hard on not rocking to meet his strokes, she could barely focus on his words.

  “Knowing that I will do exactly what I promised if you stroke yourself in one of the public rooms…” Dmitri pressed his face against her neck and inhaled deeply. “Are you going to do it again?”

  Not only was it hotter than hell to imagine him watching her masturbate, but being dragged to his office, stripped down, and doing it on his desk while he was close enough to touch…Keira bit her lip. “Oh, yeah.”

  He pulled her into his lap without ever taking his hand from its position, her back to his front. She tensed, but when he kept fucking her with his fingers, she relaxed to lay her head back on his shoulder. “What am I going to do with you, moya koroleva?”

  She arched back into him, feeling his hard cock press against the cleft of her ass. “Take my pants off.”

  Dmitri uttered a hoarse laugh. “That’s a start.” He withdrew his hand long enough to skim her pants and underwear off, leaving her naked from the waist down. The sweater was slouchy enough to hit the top of her thighs, but he drew it up with his free hand as his other went back to her pussy. “You are so wet and tight and mne nuzhno chuvstvovat’ tebya.”

  She had no idea what that meant, but it sounded like the promise of something good. Keira shrugged her sweater off one shoulder. Dmitri’s curse was music to her ears, and it only made it hotter when he tugged the fabric down to expose the same breast she’d flashed him in the kitchen.

  Her gaze landed on the closed glass separating them from the driver. “Can he see us?”

  Dmitri rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger—the exact same way she had touched herself earlier. “Does it matter?”

  Her entire body clenched. “No.”

  “It does to me.” He pressed the heel of his hand against her clit, the pressure increasing in time with the tempo of his strokes. Dmitri palmed her breast, the move screaming ownership. “You will keep your peep shows for me and me alone, Keira. Obey me and you will be rewarded.” He flicked his fingers against a spot inside her that had her eyes threatening to roll back in her head.


  Still, she managed to draw out words. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you will be punished.” And, with that, he took away his touch, leaving her teetering on the edge of orgasm with nothing to push her over.

  Chapter Nine

  This woman made Dmitri crazy. He still couldn’t believe that she’d been so brazen as to expose herself in the fucking kitchen, let alone to all but promise to do it again at the earliest available opportunity. He kept his hands on her hips, holding her against him even as she cursed him. “Obey, Keira.”

  “If you don’t make me come, I’m going to do it myself.”

  And deprive him of her orgasm? Out of the question. He caged her wrists, drawing them behind her to nestle at the small of her back. The position arched her spine, and he could see the fury and desire written over her face in the reflection of the partition glass. “Your orgasms are mine now.” He slipped his hand between her thighs again, craving the tight clamp of her pussy around his fingers, her wetness coating them as he drew her closer and closer to coming. It was all too easy to imagine his cock in the place of his fingers, and he thrust against her ass.

  “Romanov.”

  Always Romanov and Russian with her. Never his name. “Da?”

  “Please let me come.” She sounded almost contrite—the exact opposite of the promise of retribution her expression conveyed.

  “If you were in my bed, it would be like this every fucking day. You would have to but tell me you need me, and I’d meet your every need.” He picked up the pace of his strokes, responding to the cues of her body. “You would never go without.”

  Not physically, at least.

  He could promise her orgasms. Protection. Anything money could buy.

  But nothing more.

  “My own personal Russian orgasm machine,” she gasped out.

  He kissed her neck and flicked his tongue in time with her pulse thundering there. “Come for me, moya koroleva. The first of many.” As he spoke, he pushed both fingers against that spot inside her at the same time that he rubbed little circles against her clit with the heel of his hand.