PIPER
I swallow and fold my hands behind my back. "Thanks for—I don't know what his problem was. I walked inside and asked for you, but… Well, anyway, thank you for that."
"You're incapable of completing the most basic task without getting yourself into trouble," Timofey interrupts.
My mouth slams closed. He's staring down at me, his blue eyes narrowed. Every angle of his face is sharp enough to cut glass.
"I don't remember calling for help. I was handling myself just fine."
"That's because you don't know who you were talking to."
I arch a brow. "What kind of dangerous people do you have wandering around your house first thing in the morning? If I needed saving two seconds after walking into your house, that would be your fault, not mine."
"The fact that you're in way over your head is your fault. Don't make me remind you why you're here."
"No reminder necessary. I know why I'm here. It's because I have a moral backbone."
He steps closer, forcing me to tip my head back to maintain eye contact. "You're here because you're too foolish to take the easy way out. You could have agreed to do what I asked in the first place and made things easier on yourself."
"If you keep calling me stupid, I might start to think you mean it."
"I always mean what I say. You should take me at my word."
A laugh that surprises even me bubbles up. "'Your word' means absolutely nothing to me. You're lying to me right now."
His lips twitch, and I can't help but think how wrong it is that a man as rotten as Timofey can have lips like that. Full and soft. Utterly kissable, if we're being honest.
"You aren't upset that you had to save me," I continue. "You're upset that I've spent thirty seconds in your house and already nearly uncovered a damaging secret."
"What secret would that be?"
I tap a finger against my forearm in the same spot Rodion was showing me. "I'm guessing the dots on your man's arm don't represent how many abandoned kittens he's fostered."
"What kind of damaging secret could it be if I let him tattoo it on his body?"
"You let him tattoo it?" I ask. "You control what your employees put on their own body?"
Timofey moves closer, his blue eyes freezing me to the floor. "I control everything. My business is a body, and I'm the head. The brain. I control everything."
"Makes sense," I retort. "God knows you don't have a heart."
He smirks. "Now, you're starting to understand."
I blow out a frustrated breath. "Of course you would take that as a compliment."
He hedges in closer. Suddenly, I'm aware of how big he is. How good he smells. How alone we are. "Unlike you, Piper Quinn, my emotions don't get in the way of my choices. I wouldn't throw myself to the wolves to protect my friend."
"With friends like those, you wouldn't need to," I say. "You're a wolf; Rodion is a lion, apparently. You all are too busy cosplaying as animals to realize you need serious help. Psychological help. You're fucking deranged."
Timofey presses his shoulders back, his chest straining against the buttons of his shirt. I catch glimpses of golden skin peeking through the material. Instinctively, my heart jolts. Some weak-willed spark flutters deep in my core. I tear my eyes away from him and beat the poor thing into submission.
Absolutely not. We are not ogling our blackmailer.
Maybe just one more peek, though.
I glance back. Timofey has folded his arms across his chest. His biceps bulge. "What are you doing?" My voice comes out in a rasp
.
He chuckles. "Watching you pretend not to watch me."
My face heats with embarrassment at being caught. I've never had much of a poker face.
"I wasn't looking at—you're being weird," I spluttered. "Besides, looks don't mean anything. I can separate the mask from the man wearing it."
Timofey crosses his arms over his chest. I'm not sure if he's flexing or if he is really just this muscled. This is the first time I've seen him standing up in full daylight. It's…a lot.
"You think I'm wearing this as a disguise?" he asks, gesturing to his face.
"No, but I think the genetic lottery you won has been a big help to you in your life of crime. People expect criminals to look like criminals. They don't expect them to look like…"
My voice trails off as a secret of my own nearly tumbles out.
They don't expect criminals to look like gods.
"Finish your thoughts. To look like what?" Timofey lifts his chin, and I catch a glimpse of something just under his jawline.
I lean forward to get a better look. "Is that… Is that blood?"
He reaches up reflexively and wipes at the spot. When he pulls his hand away, it's gone.
The building tension between us pops, and I deflate so fast it nearly gives me whiplash. It's all fun and games to trade barbs, to pretend I can hold my own in here. But Rodion was right: this is the lion's den, and I'm just a naive little sheep. Any of the men in here could chew me up and spit me out without a second thought.
Timofey most of all.
"What kind of business is going on here, Timofey?" I whisper. "Why do you want to bring a child into this?"
He rolls his eyes. "You caught me, Ms. Quinn. I don't always clean under my neck the way I should. Is that the kind of offense CPS looks for when snatching children away from their families?"
"I've washed enough blood from my skin to know what it looks like," I say softly. "You may keep calling me stupid, but that doesn't make it true. I'm smart enough to know what kind of person you are."
My imagination conjures Timofey before me, his tall, broad frame dripping in bright red blood. What kind of nastiness did he get into between leaving my room a few hours ago and now?
On second thought, I'm not sure I want to know.
"Then you should know I'm the kind of person who doesn't give a fuck what kind of person you think I am," he says. "I don't need you to like me, Piper. I need you to do as I ask."
"Or else what? You'll have your hitman kill me?"
His lips flatten in frustration, and I hate that my jab landed. I wanted him to deny it. Or be shocked by the accusation.
Instead, he looks coolly resigned.
I knew I was in trouble when I woke up to Timofey hovering over my bed like the Grim fucking Reaper. But this…this is different. I don't just need to worry about Timofey; I need to worry about everyone in his orbit, too.
Timofey closes the distance between us, looking down his nose at me. I've never felt smaller in my entire life. Right now, it feels like he could squash me under his heel and that would be the end of me.
Still, I try to stand tall and meet his eyes. If I'm going down, I'm going down hard.
"No, I won't have a hitman kill you," Timofey promises, his lips moving carefully around each word. "I'll do it myself."