Page 26 of Illyria
“Fuck!” he growled, moving quickly, knocking my gun from my hand. Grabbing me, he hauled me into his lap, anchoring me in his grasp as I kicked and fought him as best I could. I tried desperately to get away from him. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. He was the fucking enemy. I wanted him dead. I wanted to watch his life drain from his soulless eyes. I wanted to dance over his grave.
“I am going to whip your ass,Moya Lyubov.”
“You touch me and I’ll rip your dick off.”
The bane of my existence grinned. “At least you still want to touch my dick.”
“I hate you!”
“I know,Moya Lyubov.In time, you will forgive me.”
“The hell I will! Stop this fucking car, Vlad!” I screamed, trying to get as far away from Maxim as I could.
Slapping his hands, I pushed him away from me.
Reaching for the door, I tried unsuccessfully to open it.
Growling, I turned to the lying, cheating bastard and sneered, “When I get out of this vehicle, I am going to castrate you.”
“So you’ve said,” he deadpanned, as he completely shut down. I fucking hated when he did that. I didn’t exist. Nothing did. When he shut down, he became single-minded. Nothing, and I mean no one, could snap him out of it until he got exactly what he wanted. The man was a machine, driven, a fucking bastard with something he wanted.
Turning my attention to the fucking bastard in the front seat, I roared. “What the fuck are you doing here, Jackson?”
My former lover and friend sighed. “He’s my new client. The one I told you about in Chicago and before you ask. No. I didn’t fucking know you and the Russian were seeing each other.”
“Bullshit. It’s been in all the papers.”
The annoying attorney said. “You know I don’t listen to rumors. I believe in cold hard facts. When Fedorov approached me, I didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary. I thought he needed an attorney, and I offered my services.”
“Your first mistake.” I muttered.
“I know,” he huffed. “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”
“What do you think, Jackson? You agreed to work for the head of the east coast Bratva. You fucked me several times. Once you’ve outlived your usefulness, he’s going to put a bullet in your head. You should have told him no. Didn’t you learn anything from dealing with my family?” I said just as the SUV came to a stop. The second it did, Maxim opened the door and stepped out, yanking me with him.
“Go inside and stay there.”
“Fuck you, asshole. I’m going to kill you.”
Maxim leaned forward and whispered. “I look forward to the challenge. Now get inside.”
Turning on my heels, I headed for the door when I stopped and turned around.
“Don’t kill him. He didn’t know.”
“Inside. Now.”
Knowing not to push him further, I walked into Davenport Tower.
The second I saw the SUV pull away, I raced back outside and hailed a cab. There was somewhere else I needed to be tonight.
It was close to midnight by the time the cab pulled in front of the building on 5thAvenue. Looking out the windows, I surveyed the building. It was nice, clean, and extremely expensive. I should know. I paid an obscene amount of money for the master penthouse in this building. When Mrs. Rushton told me the cost, I thought she was joking with me. I mean, I knew what penthouses went for in this city. Some were more than others, but there was reality and then there was this fucking place. Not to mention there was the three-hour interview and a background check that was so damn thorough, it put the CIA to shame. Apparently, the owners of the building had the right to refuse any applicant, regardless of who the hell they were.
To say the place intrigued me was an understatement.
But what sold me on the place was the one thing this building offered that no other in the area had. An anonymity clause enforced by a specialized security firm comprised former military veterans. To even get in the building, a person needed to provide a thumbprint and then a retinal scan. The security guards permitted only those who lived in the building past the concierge desk, where four very bulky and hardened men sat stoically.
The moment I entered the lobby, a man stood. “How may I help you?”