Inked Adonis (Litvinov Bratva Book 1)

I’ve only just said goodbye to Hope when Rufus perks up like the world’s largest meerkat.

I don’t need to guess what that means. In a matter of seconds, he’ll be dry-humping his favorite kidnapper. But before I can high-tail it out of the living room, Rufus jumps up on my chest, knocks me backward onto the sofa, and pins me down with his meaty paws as he barks at the front door.

“Rufus!” I wheeze, fighting a losing battle with what might as well be an overprotective horse.

He only hops off of me once Samuil appears in the entryway. In seconds, Rufus is getting ear scratches like the simpering sellout he is.

“Ever heard of playing hard to get, Rufus?” I mutter under my breath.

Samuil slides one hand into the pocket of his navy blue trousers that probably came from some fancy Italian designer whose name I couldn’t pronounce. I become painfully aware that I’m still in my pajamas—the cute ones with little clouds on them that make me look about twelve years old.

“How was your day?” he rumbles.

“Oh, I had a blast. All the locked doors, ominous security guards, and complete lack of freedom—I should’ve gotten kidnapped sooner. What a life!”

Samuil’s mouth twitches like he’s suppressing a smile. Which makes me want to find a hockey stick and turn what I told Hope into a reality.

Rufus jumps up for more attention, but one snap of Samuil’s fingers has him sitting like he’s auditioning for Best in Show.

“You don’t even have to give him verbal cues now?” I try to keep my jaw hinged, but the hours Rufus and I spent fruitlessly practicing his obedience training feel like a sham now. The adorable little bastard just doesn’t respect me.

Samuil ignores my question, his attention drawn to the hallway where voices approach. Four men built like brick houses appear, carrying a crate between them that could house a small elephant—or, if I had to guess, one very spoiled dog.

I yank my feet onto the couch, not willing to risk my toes under that monstrosity. “What is that supposed to be?”

The tremor in my voice is because I’m not convinced it’s not meant for me. Turns out, this captivity could get a whole lot worse, very fast.

“It’s for Rufus,” Samuil says, those dark eyes gleaming. “Unless you’d rather…?”

“Nope. Looks like perfect Rufus dimensions.”

Smirking, Samuil whistles and coaxes Rufus in the direction of the crate, letting him sniff every solitary inch of the thing, inside and out. Then his tail starts thumping against the door.

“I think he likes it,” I observe.

“He should. It’s the best crate money can buy.”

The wood gleams, rich and glossy. Wherever the edges are joined, I can’t see them. It looks seamless. “Pretty as it is, a cage is still a cage.”

“Rufus doesn’t seem to mind.” Case in point: the traitor is so deep in his new prison that only his wildly wagging tail is visible.

I cross my arms, channeling every ounce of righteous anger I can muster. “Rufus isn’t a status symbol. He’s not some fancy accessory to be ping-ponged back and forth between two rich, spoiled brats who want to make some sort of statement to the world.”

Samuil’s mouth tightens into a violent slash. Every hair on my arms stands on end. “If you’re comparing me to Katerina, I suggest you don’t.”

“Then don’t act like her and I won’t.”

“I have nothing in common with that fucking woman.”

Well, well. Looks like I’ve found a nerve and stabbed it with a rusty fork.

“It’s no wonder your marriage crashed and burned if you have nothing in common,” I say, leaning back with false casualness. “So why even marry her in the first place?”

He goes back to pretending to examine the crate. Somehow, I feel like he’s still watching me. “It’s a long story.”

Translation: Fuck off, little girl.

Unfortunately for Samuil, that only makes me want to dig deeper, find the wound, and pour salt in it.

“Have you informed your ex-wife that you have her dog?” I ask sweetly. “Because I’m telling you right now, I’m not going down for dog-napping.”

“She knows,” Samuil says simply.

I wait for more, but apparently, the king of brevity has spoken his piece.

“And…?” I press, unable to help myself. “Is she suing you for custody?”

Samuil’s snort drips with derision. “Please. She’s happy I’m taking Rufus off her hands. I should charge her for the favor.”

Katerina didn’t seem especially attached to Rufus, but that seems cold even by her ice queen standards. “She really doesn’t care?”

“She’s not what you would call an ‘animal person.’ Come to think of it, she’s not much of a people person, either.”

“Maybe you two have something in common after all.”

His eyes flash to mine. “We’re not here to discuss me or my personal life.”

“No, we’re here because you refuse to believe that I’m not in cahoots with your snobby ex-wife. If I’m going to be imprisoned because of the woman, the least you can do is tell me about her.”

“You’re in no position to make demands, krasavitsa.”

“No, you’re right! I’m only in position to be locked in the house of some billionaire d-bag who takes advantage of helpless animals and struggling businesswomen. But when you put it like that, it kinda seems like I have nothing to lose.”

Samuil whirls around to face me again. All it takes is one step to cross the space between us. Suddenly, the oxygen in the room is gone. The light, too, because he blots it out as he towers overhead. I’m painfully aware of how big he is and how easily he could reach out that last few inches and put his hands on me.

Worse, I’m aware of the small, flickering part of me that wishes he would.

“The position you could be in is one where the pakhan teaches his smart-mouthed captive exactly what that mouth is good for.”

Oh.

My.

Lord.

That small, flickering part of me burns a little hotter even with his icy gaze on me.

But I’ll be damned if I let him see that. He wants to be an asshole? Fine. I can be an asshole, too.

So I lift my chin and snap back, “I see why your marriage failed if that’s your idea of foreplay.”

“If you want a lesson in foreplay, I’m happy to oblige,” he growls, and something in his tone makes my knees weak. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that kind of education.”

I step back, nearly toppling over the arm of that damned sofa. My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to escape—smart move, really.

“What is it, little lamb?” he growls as he advances. “Nothing smart to say now?”

Nothing that wouldn’t accidentally come out way, way wrong.

Samuil’s mouth splits into a grin that I refuse to find attractive. “I thought so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower and then have dinner. You’re welcome to join me.”

“In the shower?” I breathe before I can stop myself.

That one takes even Samuil by surprise. His eyes trail over my body before he swallows. “If you climb naked and willing into my shower, I certainly won’t be the one to stop you.”

But I will.

I’ll fight my way past guards and throw myself over the railing before I let that happen. Because my dignity, self-respect, any and all of my morals—that would all be gone. What would there be left to live for?

With my cheeks on fire, I shove past him and take refuge in my room.

I skip out on the shower and dinner, if only so I don’t slip up and say something even more embarrassing than the nuggets I’ve already given him.

But a little past midnight, my door creaks open, and Rufus paws his way into my room. He hunkers into bed beside me, and I wrap my arms around him.

“I’m surprised you’re not with Sam,” I tell him accusingly, snuggling his neck.

He looks over his shoulder at me, and I swear his big, brown eyes reply, I could say the same to you.