But she’s still holding my hand and gets my attention with a firm tug. I look back to her. She’s grown serious now, her luminous eyes wide and sincere. “Fairy tales are the dreams we grew up with,” she says. “And though real life isn’t a fairy tale, there are parallels we can all draw from.”
I’m tempted to roll my eyes again, but she’s so sincere I can’t bring myself to do it. “Fair enough,” I mutter, which makes her laugh again. I’m not sure what she finds so amusing, but I enjoy her laughter. It loosens something in me. “It will be rare for you to see me enact violence as I did today,” I tell her. “I have men who work as my strike force. And if I do have to punish someone personally, I’ll do my best to keep you apart from it.” Then my stomach tightens. “Unless someone threatens your safety again.”
I don’t realize I’ve clenched my hand into a fist until she winces, her fingers trapped in my grasp. I release her so quickly her hand falls to my lap. I take the wipes from her and remove one before I dab her chin, then clean her off in silence. She sits still, allowing me.
“Or unless I’m the person you’re punishing,” she says, casting me a look through lowered lashes that’s at once fetching and coy. My cock tightens, my pulse throbbing at the thought of her earning a real punishment. Though I want her obedience, a part of me hopes she gives me reason to administer punishment. Pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, the need to control and master fuels me. Deeply erotic. Intoxicating. Dangerous, if not consumed in moderation.
I swallow hard, needing to both change the subject and find answers to what troubles me. “Tell me, Caroline,” I say, making sure there’s both command and sympathy in my voice. I want her obedience and even her fear but finding the answers to the questions I have are crucial. If I push too hard, she’ll hide from me.
I wait until I’ve captured her gaze and she drops my hand. We’re sitting so close in the small, intimate interior of the car that our knees brush.
“Yes?” she asks. Her chin quivers. She knows I’m going to ask her things she doesn’t want to answer.
“What’s your brother like?”
Her startled blink tells me she didn’t expect me to start there, but I need to know who he is and what fuels him.
Her frank expression tells me she hides nothing when she replies. “My brother,” she says with a bitter note in her tone. “Is a complete and utter asshole.”
I’m not surprised, but it isn’t enough of an answer.
“Tell me more.” Though he’s below me by quite a bit in rank in the Bratva, his rank within his own brotherhood gives him power and prestige. His position is something I need to be wary of.
“He is the type that preys on the innocent,” she says. “A bully, as it were. When he was a child, he found a cruel man who lived nearby that bred his dogs and sold the puppies for profit. My brother’s favorite pastime was taking the pups that didn’t sell and drowning them to earn pocket money.”
I listen without comment, allowing her to continue. “He will do anything and everything to earn more power in the brotherhood, even if it means selling out his own brothers.” She laughs mirthlessly. “Or sister.”
I nod. “Did he treat you poorly?”
Holding my eyes, she nods. “He did.” But she says nothing more.
I note this with calculating precision. He’s given me no reason to get on a plane and hunt him down, not, at least, according to protocol. When he mistreated her, she didn’t belong to me. That said, I’ll find a reason to seek retribution for what he’s done.
“Why did one of your brother’s men wish to take a picture of you?”
At first, she doesn’t answer, worrying her lip as she gazes out the tinted window, muted houses and buildings flitting past us as we drive on.
“For Andros,” she whispers. At the paper-thin skin at her temple, a tiny light blue vein throbs. Her voice shakes, but she continues despite her evident pain in discussing this with me. “Andros will not like that I’m gone. My brother didn’t tell him until the last minute, and he made sure Andros was not one of the men who brought me here.”
“Who is Andros?”
Her answer is swift and vehement. “The devil incarnate.” The tone of her voice is chilling and harsh, her eyes narrowed in utter hatred.
I need more than that. I’ll find out who Andros is, as well. Anyone that causes that type of response in her… But I plod on carefully, so she doesn’t retreat.
“I’ve met some evil men in my line of work,” I tell her, keeping my tone casual. “In fact, I’d say most of us had a bit of the devil in us. Some more so than others.” I stare at my clean hands that were covered in another man’s blood only minutes ago. If she knew what I’ve done to get where I am, the steps I’ve taken within the Bratva to rise to power…