"I wasn't aware there was light in you, my Pakhan."
"It takes both light and dark to view life in truth."
"Oh, truth … are we talking about truth now?"
They locked eyes, his narrowing suspiciously. She knew something and he needed find out what it was.
Perhaps he was going about this all wrong. He pulled her over to stand next to one of the chairs in front of his desk. With slow deliberation, he slipped off the aforementioned Ferragamos and socks, then unbuckled his pants and let them slide to the floor before lowering himself into the chair.
"Take off the robe. Come sit on my cock." He kicked his pants to the side, never taking his eyes off her. As she straddled his thighs, he ran his fingers through her slit. It pleased him to feel his finger slide effortlessly through her slick folds.
"Fear is still an aphrodisiac after all these years, hmm?" he commented as he tightened the sash around her neck and yanked her hips toward him. "Now, here's how we're going to do this," he grunted as he impaled her on his cock in one swift move. "You're going to answer my questions or I'm going to choke the shit out of you. Those are your options."
"Always so easy to work with."
He hissed in a breath, bearing his teeth as he moved his hips beneath her. "Where did you go today?"
She tossed her head back and moved up and down on his cock, forgetting the question until he tightened the noose.
"You know where I went," she gasped. "The library."
"I know that," he replied, his voice tight as he willed an orgasm away. His balls were already drawing up in response to her pussy's snug, velvety heat. He grabbed a nipple and twisted it until she cried out. "What I want to know is why … "
"Research."
Katrina was the journalist in the family, so her answer made no sense. He scowled, keeping his rhythm slow and steady. "Research for what?"
"You're hiding something from me, Glazov. I have a right to know."
"You don't get to do that, Ptichka-you don't get to turn this shit around on me."
"Your father! I want to know about your father," she blurted before she could stop herself.
Glazov's jaw clenched and his eyes widened. Nostrils flaring, he shoved her away from him and rose to his feet, rage flaring in his eyes. She picked her robe up off the floor and slid it on as he straightened his clothes and strode out of the office to their bedroom.
She wasn't going to let this go so she followed behind him. He was uncharacteristically untidy as he undressed, his hands accomplishing the task with jerky motions as he let his clothes drop to the floor in a heap. He crossed the room, beautifully naked, and grabbed the bottle of vodka. Keeping his eyes locked on her, he tilted his head back and took a huge swig from the bottle. After another swallow, he lowered the bottle to his side and stood there, chest heaving.
Not good.
She quietly padded over to their bed, drew back the covers and lay down. When she looked up, he was there at the side of the bed. He offered her the bottle … his way of apologizing.
"Have a drink on me."
After a long pull from the bottle, she handed it back to him and lay there in the silence, waiting. He would talk when he was ready and not a moment before. Eventually, he set the bottle on the nightstand and slid into bed next to her.
"My father was a hard man. We were a lot alike in that sense, but in the most important ways he wasn't like me at all. He never tried to strike a balance between his ruthlessness and … family. Things like that. He drank too much. Fucked around on my mother. Beat the shit out of his wife and kids.
"When he died, I made the decision to come stateside just to get away from the legacy of shame and terrible memories he left. I vowed I would take his ruthlessness in business and use it against my enemies. I also vowed that I would not have a family. Bratva would be my family. Then … there was you."
Cold, blue eyes found hers briefly, then closed on a deep, agonized breath as he continued, "Adjusting to family life was difficult for me on occasion, simply because I didn't have anything to go by. I just knew I despised his example and was determined not to repeat it."
He shrugged. "Anyway … it wasn't enough that he fucked me up while he was alive; it appears he has come back from the grave to torment me."
"What do you mean? How can someone come back from the grave and hurt you?"