Glazov leaned against the doorframe, crossing a foot over his opposite ankle as he drank her in. Long red hair, still wet from the shower. Her robe, gaping open all the way down to the loosely tied sash. Her head was tilted back against the wall where she sat on the floor … right in front of his safe.
His very open safe.
"Looking for something, Ptichka?"
She jumped, the abrupt movement sending wine sloshing over the rim of her glass and down the front of her robe. He stalked toward her, keeping his strides slow and measured. He knelt down on one knee and toyed with the sash on her robe, pulling it free.
"My, my, but you've been a busy girl-even went so far as to cover the lens on the security camera. If I didn't know any better, I might be inclined to believe you're hiding something from me."
Her eyes widened and she frantically shook her head back and forth like a little girl who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
He slowly leaned in and clasped her neck, his thumb stroking her jugular as he savored the fear that thrummed through her bloodstream.
"Liar." He slid the sash from the loops on her robe and gently wrapped it around her neck.
"I don't like it when you lie to me, Ptichka. Perhaps it's time for a little interrogation session. Shut the safe, dear."
His eyebrows lifted in amusement as she snort-laughed, her head lolling to the side. His wife had a nice buzz going.
"See … I think that's funny, because you"-she jabbed her finger in his direction for emphasis, emboldened by his frown when her fingertip made blunt contact with his chest. "-you're hiding something from me."
She giggled like a little girl, only confirming what he already knew-she'd been into the vodka. He lifted her chin with a fingertip and regarded her with clinical detachment. "I see someone is a little … shall we say, tipsy?"
"Mmmm … I passed tipsy long, long time ago." Her words were slurred just the tiniest bit. This elicited another frown from Glazov because his wife could hold her liquor quite well. For her to be even the slightest bit impaired led him to believe that there was more going on here than a cocktail at the end of a long day. His Ptichka was upset about something. That and the look of defiance in her eyes made him want to rake everything off his desk so he could lay her out on it and fuck her sober.
Instead, he loosened his tie while still holding the sash around her neck like a leash. How would he deal with his little hell cat? One thing was certain: He'd never get bored with her.
Kathleen had an innate curiosity that kept her in trouble. She was born with the need to know-everything. Although he had her followed everywhere because of his obsession with her, he also did it for her safety. He, of all people, knew how far an enemy would go to hurt him.
Every gangster knew that if you wanted to really hurt an adversary, you went after their family. The code of not hurting women or children wasn't followed anymore. It was new day of blood-and-guts war and anything was fair. The old days of honor and family had given way to hedonistic greed and killing for sport. He was grateful he had raised his children right so they would carry on in the old ways and pass them down to their children. And he looked forward to moving his family in a new, safer direction.
He tugged at the sash around her neck, forcing her to her feet as it tightened. "Perhaps a little breath play's in order, my love."
"Perhaps a little puke play's in order, my love. If you pull this fucking sash any tighter around my neck I'm going to get sick all over your pretty Ferragamos."
Okay, I'll play along, this should be interesting.
"It's nice to see you haven't lost your ability to be a sneaky little thief." He pulled the sash tight enough to see a tiny spark of fear in her eyes. What he really wanted to do was tighten it enough to make her struggle, perhaps even claw at his hands to loosen it. But then there was that whole puking thing he wasn't down for.
"People who live in glass houses … well, whatever the fuck," she gasped. "You know the rest."
"I don't live in a glass house. I live in a mansion, with a dungeon. A mansion that has a safe that's been broken into by my nosey wife."
"That's community property, buddy."
"I see … nice to see that you're not in the shadows, but in a space between them. That way you can see both the light and the dark, my little Ptichka."