Page 2 of Hate to Love You
“No, I’m fucking not!” I snap, my cheeks heating.
“Yes, you are,” He grins darkly. “I bet you regret wearing this skirt now, don’t you? I told you what would happen if you kept disobeying me.” His knee presses harder, causing my head to drop back against the door with a thump. His fingers clench around my neck as he pushes himself away from me.
“Now be a good little slut…and bend over my fucking desk.”
My breath hitches in my throat.
Roman Nikolai Antonov was supposed to die today.
…So why do I find myself walking over to his desk?
Chapter One
ROMAN
“This is the place?” I ask, pulling on my gloves.
I stare up at a solid brick colonial townhome, on the upper East side of the city.
“Yes, Boss,” my driver nods. “Number 912, the tan one in the middle.”
“And we’re sure the fucker’s there?”
“Yes, Boss, O’Brien is inside. Has been all afternoon.”
“Alone?”
“Harry reported four men stopped by around midnight. He hasn’t seen any of them leave.”
“Roommates?”
“Maybe. Could explain how he’s affording the place. Especially in this zip code.”
“And especially with what you’re paying,” Pasha, my brother, snorts from the front passenger seat. “Then again, I guess you’re not the only one paying him, now are you?”
I glare at him.
Careful, Little Brother…
He pops his gum in his mouth and turns around to grin at me. But, when he sees exactly how unfunny I found his little crack, his eyes go wide and he quickly whips back around, adjusting his collar.
“So what now, Boss?” My enforcer Igor snarls. “Can I go kill them now, or are we plannin’ to just sit around holding our dicks all night?”
Igor has snorted enough cocaine to take down an elephant and is clearly itching to bash in someone’s head tonight.
I rub my chin.
“Send them in,” I nod quietly.
“You got it,” Igor chuckles to himself, licking his lips.
However, before he can step out of the car, I grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Don’t fuck it up,” I growl. “Keep it quiet. I don’t need any nosy neighbors calling the cops, and I don’t want a fucking mess, do you understand?”
Igor nods.
“And I don’t care what you do with anyone else in that house, but O’Brien is mine.”