Inked Adonis (Litvinov Bratva Book 1)

I’ve always fought off my demons on the ice. There’s something about the cold, the unyielding bite of steel against the rink, that soothes me.

And yet, as I walk the seven blocks from the Litvinov Group building to my high rise, it’s warmth I’m after.

Her warmth.

No woman has ever gotten under my skin like Nova Pierce. Not even Katerina, though that snake tried her best to worm her way the fuck in.

Then again, no one with even a single functional synapse left in their skull would ever accuse Katerina of being “warm.”

“Where is she?” I bark as soon as I step out of the elevator.

Rolland, the lead soldier on duty, stands to attention. “Her bedroom with the dog, sir. Last I checked.”

That’s where she was last I checked, too.

But the dog in question bounds down the hallway, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, no Nova in sight.

“Where is she, Ru?” I pat the dog behind the ears, but he’s too busy nudging his head into my thigh to be of any use.

As if I’m the hound, I follow her honeydew scent around the house. I retrace the paths I saw her walk in the security footage, but she’s nowhere. Even her room is empty.

By the time I double back to the living room, I’m tearing open doors and prepared to start ripping into cushions. This place is a fucking fortress. There’s no way she escaped.

I kneel down in front of Rufus, meeting his eyes. “Where is she, boy? Take me to her.”

Maybe I expect some Lassie bullshit moment where the mutt actually proves himself good for something beyond destroying perfectly fine suits.

But he just cocks his head to the side and whines.

“Fuck.” I pat the dog on the head and grab my phone to call… “Fuck,” I growl again, pocketing my phone.

Myles already suggested I should let Nova go. He might’ve even been right, though I’ll tuck that option away and explore it never. I’m sure as hell not going to call him and hand him the satisfaction of an “I told you so” on a silver fucking platter.

Rufus whines and nudges my hand, but I’m busy calculating the odds of Nova somehow spider-manning her way up thirty stories of polished stone without being spotted or splattering herself on the pavement below. My stomach clenches at the thought.

Frustrated with my lack of attention, the dog bounds away. He circles around his crate once and again, his tail thumping against the carpet. Then he stands outside the closed door and gives a soft, excited woof.

I stride over to open the damn thing just so I can think in peace, but when I lean down⁠—

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I sigh, spotting the curve of an ass I know intimately tucked into the back of the crate.

Napping in a dog crate might be the most on-brand thing Nova Pierce has done since I met her. It’s also proof she could never be working with Katerina or the Andropov Group. Kat would sooner be found in a coffin.

“Nova.”

She stirs, stretching like a cat in a patch of sunlight. Her back arches in a way that has me contemplating joining her in that overpriced cage. It would be tight, but I have some ideas about making it work.

“Told you this was the best crate money can buy,” I drawl.

Her eyes fly open and she bolts upright, cracking her head against the wooden roof with a satisfying thunk.

“Ow!” She rubs her skull, peering up at me through the half-open door. A blush spreads across her cheeks. “What are the chances of you walking away and forgetting you found me in here?”

“If you were unhappy with your accommodations, Nova, you could have discussed it with me.”

She sighs like I’m the unreasonable one in this situation. “I’ll take that as ‘no chance in hell.’”

“Smart girl.” I extend my hand. To my surprise, she actually takes it, letting me pull her to her feet. “Care to explain why you were napping in a dog crate?”

“I was looking for a change of scenery. Captivity makes people do crazy things.”

“Three days in and you’re already trading beds with the dog. Should I order you a collar while we’re at it?”

Her eyes flash to mine, flaming hot. “Since you treat the dog better than you treat me, I figured it was worth a shot. At least he gets to see the sun four times per day on his walks.”

“There is a balcony.”

She whirls toward the windows like she’s never noticed the wall-to-wall view of Chicago’s skyline before. “Oh, wow, you’re right. How did I miss that? Who needs freedom when you’ve so generously provided a five-by-eight patch of concrete? You’re a true humanitarian, Samuil Litvinov.”

I bite back a smirk. That sharp tongue of hers does things to me it probably shouldn’t.

I snap my fingers. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Let it not be said that Samuil Litvinov isn’t flexible. Grab your coat.”

Her forehead wrinkles with suspicion. “Is this some sort of trick?”

“Yes, it’s the heinously evil trick of keeping you warm while we’re out walking the dog.”

“I… I get to walk Rufus?”

“You’re a professional. It seems appropriate. Just a business tip for you: try not to let him get kidnapped by any handsome strangers this time.”

She scowls. “Asshole.”

“What I heard was ‘Thank you for being so accommodating, Samuil. Not only are you unfairly attractive, you’re also attentive.’”

“I’d rather stay in the crate full-time than give you a compliment,” she retorts. “You’re making my imprisonment mildly more livable. I wouldn’t clear off a place on the mantel for your Nobel Prize just yet.”

“Fine.” I turn toward the door. “Stay in your cage then. I’ll walk Rufus myself.”

“Wait! I’m—” She huffs out an angry breath. “I’ll grab my coat. Give me two minutes.”

She meets me at the elevators in one.

Nova does her best to look surly and displeased as the elevator takes us down and we cross the lobby, but the second we emerge through the revolving doors, she can’t hide her excitement.

She leans her head back and breathes in deep. “Do you smell that?”

“Piss-stained concrete and gasoline?”

She shakes her head, a smile sliding across her face. “It smells like autumn. Crunchy leaves and a chill in the air.”

She’s right. The sky is scrubbed in that faded autumn blue, with the burnt orange and copper red of tree leaves stark against it. For a moment, the city looks as beautiful as I’ve ever seen it.

“All I smell is urine.” Then I stride away, leaving Nova in my wake.

She catches up eventually, even though my strides dwarf hers. She keeps a tight grip on Rufus’s leash, but for the first time in recorded history, he’s on his best behavior. Every time a pigeon gets too close or some fast walker’s trench coat whips him in the ear, all it takes is a sharp whistle to redirect his attention and keep him in line.

When we find a bench in the dog park, she lets Rufus off leash, but I keep a firm hold on his collar. “If you hump anything, I’m leashing you up and taking you home. It’s best behavior or bust, my friend.”

I give him a good scratch behind his ears before sending him off. He drops his snout to the ground and goes barreling after the nearest squirrel.

“It’s weird how madly in love with you that dog is.”

“Par for the course.”

She snorts. “Right. Because everyone is in love with you, right?” She drops her voice a few octaves, doing what must be her very offensive impression of me. “‘I’m rich and handsome and a passable texter, so who wouldn’t trip over themselves to hump this beefy thigh?’”

“Actually, I was going to say that every time Katerina disciplined Rufus with an iron fire poker, he took refuge in a pile of my clothes in my old closet,” I say. “But thanks for calling my thighs ‘beefy.’ I assume you meant it in the most flattering way possible.”

Nova’s jaw drops. “Oh my God… He got used to your scent. He was comforted by your scent.”

“Which is why he was so enthusiastic when he came across me that day in the park. I think it was his way of thanking me for being there for him.”

Her gaze drifts to where Rufus is terrorizing a squirrel, his front paws pressed against a tree trunk as he barks threats at the poor creature.

“He loved you before he even met you.” She sniffs, shifting on the bench. The movement puts her closer to me, close enough that her heat seeps through my clothes. “The news should hear about this. You two could be the feel-good story of the day.”

“Does dog abuse and abduction make you feel good? I had no idea you were so dark, Nova.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just for the record, I’m not a fan of the way you got not-quite-custody of him, but I am glad he’s out. He deserves better than Katerina Alekseeva.”

“On that we agree.”

After a few quiet moments, she says, “I’m sorry I said you were like her. You may be a rich, elitist asshole who lied to me and kidnapped me, but at least you’re a rich, elitist asshole who’s also kind to animals.”

“You’re really showering me with compliments tonight.”

“Do you want me to be mean to you now to balance it out? I could slap you around, call you a few nasty names.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Nova Pierce.”

At that, she actually smiles.

We slip into silence, watching Rufus bound through pools of lamplight. The night air carries an edge of winter, but Nova’s warmth beside me burns like a promise. Or a threat. Sometimes with her, it’s hard to tell the difference.

I check my watch. “Time to head back.”

Her smile fades, but she doesn’t argue. And as we walk home, she keeps pace beside me, close enough that our arms brush with each step. Each touch is a reminder of what she is: my prisoner, my problem, my temptation.

And if I’m not careful, she might become something far more dangerous.