Paying The Bratva’s Debt, Cole, Jagger [best motivational novels .txt] 📗

“Holy shit, Fiona! I mean I’m not a lawyer, but that sounds like it’s probably a good thing?”

“Oh, yeah it’s great…” I let my eyes drag across the lavish quarters again. I slowly shake my head, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening to me.

“Anyways, sorry for running out like that. I got the call, and…”

“Oh my God, don’t even stress. I get it. Well, have so much fun in New York! Call me! Tell me about the job when you can you little genius.”

I laugh, but it’s a forced one, with no real emotion behind it. “Yeah, will do.”

“Okay, bye!”

“Bye.”

I hang up, feeling awful for lying to my best friend. I walk across the big room and flop down on the bed. I lay back on it, luxuriating in how soft and perfect it is. Again, I grew up wanting for nothing, with a lot of wealth and nice things. But this whole house is on another level entirely.

Viktor is on another level, too. I blush as my thoughts drift back to the terrifying and yet utterly gorgeous man who has me locked in his home. I’ve read about him in the news, like a lot of people have. He’s the man at the epicenter of a hundred criminal cases—smuggling, illegal weapons trafficking, money laundering, protection rackets, assassinations, and probably worse. And yet, he’s untouchable. He’s forever separated from every crime he’s clearly involved in by just enough space for the law to have nothing on him.

As a lawyer, it’s honestly impressive. As his captive, it’s terrifying.

I run my hands through my hair and then sit up with a sigh. I glance towards the huge bathroom and worry my bottom lip. A shower sounds divine right now. But I pause, glancing nervously around the room. What if there are cameras? What if he’s watching me right this instant?

I imagine Viktor sitting in front of a screen, watching me undress. I blush deeply as the thought turns into more of a daydream—a disturbing fantasy of him slowly undressing before walking in to take me in his arms.

My eyes roll as my face burns hotly. Okay, that’s enough of that. I glance around, frowning. Well, cameras or not, what am I going to do? Not a take a shower for the next month? Never change clothes? I stand and start to unzip my dress. But then I stop and walk over to flip the lights off. But then the thought hits me that if a man like Viktor Komarov wants to spy on me getting undressed, he’s probably got night vision cameras anyways.

I flip the lights back on and quickly shed my clothes. I scamper for the bathroom and turn the water on. Under it, I can feel some of the tension evaporating. Part of me still wonders about Viktor watching me. The thrill it sends creeping through my core makes me roll my eyes at myself though.

Great, thanks, dad. Twenty-two years of being locked away in a tower, with no boyfriends at all, and this is the result: I get the hots for the first sickeningly handsome man to step into my sheltered world. And he happens to be the most ruthlessly dangerous criminal in Chicago. Wonderful.

I step out of the shower and quickly wrap a towel around myself. I wander back into the bedroom, then into the huge walk-in closet. My hands run over the racks and racks of clothes in wonder. I open a few drawers until I find one containing rows of silk and satin pajama sets. I take a pair out, but then I stop.

Underwear, right. I turn to look at the dresser with the thin drawers. I poke around some more, until finally I accept it, there’s no “regular’ underwear in this closet. Just the heaps and heaps of lacy, racy, extra-sexy stuff. I blush for the millionth time as I open the drawers again. I’ve never even owned lingerie like this.

I pull out an especially lacy and see-through pair of thong panties. My jaw drops when I realize the back strip is strung with gleaming white pearls, meant to go right over…

I blush deeply and stuff the panties back in the drawer. I mean, everything here is in my sizes. I’m meant to wear these things. But does that include erotic French pearl-thong lingerie? I bite my lip and paw through more of the stuff in the drawers. I finally pull out what looks like a regular old nightgown. But when I hold it up, I feel my face burn.

Nope. It’s literally see-through all over and looks like it would barely cover my butt. But instead of stuffing it back into the drawer, I keep glancing at it. I feel a flutter of excitement as I run my fingers over it. I mean, I really have never owned anything close to this. And part of me is curious how it would even feel to wear something this sexy.

Screw it, I think. I ditch the towel and quickly slip the teddy on. I feel the thrill of the sheer material brush across my nipples. I suck on my bottom lip as I turn to look into the huge mirror against the far wall. I cringe a little in embarrassment at what I see. But then I take a breath. I let it go and admire myself in the mirror, and I blush. Okay, I look pretty hot, truth be told.

My phone suddenly dings from where I left it on the edge of the bed. When I walk over and pick it up, I smile. It’s a text from Zoey saying, good luck with the job interview tomorrow. I’m about to text her back, when suddenly, the bedroom door slams open behind me.

I gasp, whirling as the scream catches in my throat. Viktor stands frozen in the doorway; his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides, and his eyes both surprised and burning with lust at the same time.

“Mr.