Brie’s Russian Treat (Submissive in Love, #5) (3 page)

Numerous times during the long international flight, Sir slid his hand behind her back and lightly pulled on the belt under her dress. It hit just the right spot to cause a pleasant pressure in her loins, which further teased and excited her.

“Tweaking the details,” he murmured in her ear, “and later today I will grab on to that belt and fuck you like a slut, téa.”

She shivered, smiling to herself. Yes, Sir was an expert at tweaking those little details.

It was a surprise to Brie when they got through Russian security without any hassles. Even more surprising was the fact that Rytsar was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s still not answering his cell,” Sir griped as he thrust his phone into his pocket. “I guess we’ll take a cab.”

Sir lifted his hand to hail one. After several minutes, a taxi pulled up. While Brie climbed into the vehicle, the driver put their luggage into the trunk and asked Sir where they were headed. The instant Sir stated the address, the man’s face fell. Without explanation, he unloaded the luggage and shook his head.

Sir spoke to the man in Russian, but he just kept repeating, “
Nyet
.” He gestured Brie out of his cab and sped off as if the hounds of hell were following him.

“Well, that was odd.” Sir put his arm around Brie as he hailed another cab.

After another few minutes, one pulled up. Before Sir let him take the luggage, he explained where he wanted to go. This cabbie looked horrified, and looked around nervously before jumping into his vehicle and driving off.

“Okay, now I am getting irritated,” Sir complained. “What is Durov up to?”

Sir hailed a third cab and explained where they were headed. The cabbie hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. Sir breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Keep your eyes open—Durov has to be around here someplace laughing his Ruskie ass off.”

The cabbie exited the airport, but was silent for the entire drive, even when Sir spoke to him directly. It was eerie.

“I don’t understand where Durov is going with this little ruse, but I don’t find it particularly funny. Do you?”

Brie shook her head. “Not at all, Sir.”

She felt chills as they rounded the corner of Rytsar’s street and she heard Sir’s intake of breath. She couldn’t see anything yet and asked, “What is it, Sir?”

Sir did not respond, a frozen look of shock on his face. As they pulled up to Rytsar’s mansion, Brie suddenly understood why. The top half was gone, looking as if it had been physically ripped off, and what was left had been gutted by fire.

The cab driver quickly unloaded the luggage and demanded payment. Without counting the money or even looking back, he got back in his car and hit the gas, leaving them standing in front of the ruins.

The shock of the scene held Brie speechless as she took in the devastation. She shook her head, not wanting to believe it. She followed silently behind Sir as he walked around the mansion. The back of it told the story. The entire side had been blown away as if by some tremendous explosion. Sir walked through the huge hole, carefully stepping over the rubble.

Brie finally found her voice and asked, “Do you think Rytsar survived?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s happened, Sir? What could have caused this?”

“It looks like a bomb, but as far as I know, Durov didn’t have any enemies.”

“Could he have gotten tangled up with the Russian mafia?”

“The Durov family does not engage in
Bratva
activities.”

“Is it possible he became a target because of that?”

Sir’s voice was empty when he answered. “I can’t say.” He walked farther inside, trying to make sense of the destruction around them.

“Rytsar…” Brie whimpered.

“This wasn’t survivable,” Sir stated dully.

“But he must have gotten out,” Brie insisted, wanting Sir to reassure her.

“I haven’t heard from him for three days.” Sir closed his eyes, his breath becoming labored.

Brie grabbed on to him, tears falling silently as she glanced around at the burnt wreckage that had once been Rytsar’s home. “He can’t…”

“If this is related to the
Bratva
, then it explains the strange behavior of the cab drivers.” Sir put his arm protectively around Brie. “We need to leave—we’re not safe here.”

“But we have to find out what happened to Rytsar,” she cried desperately.

Sir grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “No one could survive this.”

Brie’s lip trembled.

He let go of her, the look of devastation on his face gutting her. Sir looked around the ruins, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s gone…”

“But not forgotten,” a jovial voice announced behind them.

Brie turned around, her mouth agape as Rytsar walked up, a huge grin on his face. “It was truly beautiful to see your genuine concern, but not to fear. I am quite alive and well.”

Sir stared at him for several seconds before he punched Rytsar square in the face. The large Russian crashed to the ground.

“You never joke about that!”

Rytsar’s entourage advanced on Sir, ready to restrain him, but Rytsar got back to his feet, rubbing his jaw slowly. “Stop, no need,” he said, calling back his guards.

Sir’s eyes burned with anger as he stared down the Russian Dom.

“I’m so touched,
moy droog
. You—”

“You
never
joke about death.” Sir turned away, his jaw quavering slightly.

Rytsar’s jovial expression disappeared. “I’m sorry…” He tried to touch Sir’s shoulder, but he jerked away from the Russian.

“Never.”

Rytsar nodded. “You’re right. It was a cruel joke and I apologize.” He reached out and grabbed Sir in a bear hug, refusing to let go. “I am heartily sorry.”

Sir let out an angry sigh. “Don’t ever fuck with me like that again.”

Rytsar pulled back to look him in the eyes. “It was only meant in jest, but I won’t,
moy droog.
I give my solemn promise.”

Sir pushed him away, straightening his jacket with quick, angry movements. “See that you don’t.”

Rytsar turned to Brie next, brushing away the remaining tears from her cheeks. “I apologize to you as well,
radost moya
. I did not appreciate how deeply you felt.”

“Liar,” Sir snarled.

The Russian Dom shook his head sadly. “I did not mean to cause a rift between us, brother.”

Sir’s lip twitched. “I don’t forgive you, but I will look past this.”

“Good, because I lost everything when the gas main exploded,” Rytsar said, gesturing at the ruins around him.

Sir nodded in understanding. “So that’s what happened here.”

“That’s terrible, Rytsar,” Brie cried. “What a horrible loss.”

“Generations lost,” he growled angrily. Brie remembered all the heirlooms, the old paintings, ancient artwork—the sheer amount of history that had been lost in the explosion was devastating. “Mercifully, it happened on a Sunday when my staff was away.”

“Where were you?” Brie asked.

He raised his eyebrow. “I was…occupied at the time.”

Brie blushed and looked down at her feet, trying to hide her smile.

“Certain friends of mine pressured the local government to rebuild it since a home of such rich historical value was destroyed due to a faulty gas line. Construction will start once the area has been shored up and deemed safe. It is a testament to my forefathers that the foundation of my ancestral home remains solid.”

“What about the items lost in the fire, Durov?” Sir asked.

Rytsar tilted his head and smirked. “I am being adequately compensated.”

“But all your family heirlooms, all those memories…” Brie lamented.

“
Da,
but the thing most valuable to me was spared.”

“Really?” Sir exclaimed with interest.

Rytsar started walking farther into the interior of the building, waving his hand for them to follow.

Brie turned to Sir. “Is it safe?”

“Probably not.”

Sir followed the Russian anyway, and since he hadn’t forbidden Brie, she followed behind him.

“As you know, Father and I never had much in common, but even he would have been pleased.”

Rytsar led them down what remained of the stairs and opened the thick door that led to the dungeon. Brie gasped as she stepped inside. It looked completely untouched, as pristine as the day she’d visited it last. The walls were lined with lit torches, hinting at the fact that he’d planned to show them this little ‘miracle’ all along.

“I can’t believe it’s unscathed considering the violence of the explosion,” Sir said in amazement.

“It is truly a
chudo,
” Rytsar agreed. He walked over to the wall of instruments. “My men have been thorough in checking for any damage, but have yet to report any. I have, however, discovered one pleasant byproduct left by the fire that raged above.” He picked up his cat o’ nines and dragged it under his nose, breathing in deeply. “All of my instruments retain the scent of the smoke. I find it an alluring addition.”

He held out the cat o’ nines to Brie. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Brie walked over to take a whiff, but her body shivered being so close to the instrument, having experienced its ferocious bite. She smelled the leather, taking in the aroma, and looked up at him in surprise. “I do find it pleasing.”

He caressed the cat o’ nines sensually and asked, “Would you like another session,
rodost moya
?”

Brie backed up to Sir, distancing herself from the Russian. “No, once was more than enough. Thank you.”

Sir chuckled. “I think you have effectively cured my sub of that desire.”

Rytsar put the tool back on the wall. “Such a shame,” he said wistfully, stroking the length of it. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

“So, Durov, where have you been staying since the explosion?”

“I have several apartments in Moscow. Housing is not a problem, only an inconvenience.”

Brie crinkled her brow in confusion, wondering why he would have multiple residences when he lived in a mansion.

“Durov, there’s still one thing I can’t wrap my head around. Why did the drivers behave so strangely at the airport? It makes no sense given that this was only a gas explosion.”

Rytsar slapped him on the back, laughing. “I informed the taxi companies of your arrival and offered a healthy sum if they refused to take you. All but one driver, of course. Were they convincing? I promised an extra bonus if they were.”

“Yes, Durov,” Sir stated dryly. “You should dig deep into your wallet. I hope it hurts.”

“That is good to hear,” he answered with a satisfied grin.

When Sir frowned, Rytsar immediately changed his tactics. “Let’s forget the unpleasantness and concentrate on the rest of your stay here. I assume you will be headed to the cabin.”

“Actually, I had planned to stay at your home. Because of what’s happened, I suppose I can send Brie ahead until my business in Moscow is complete.”

“Excellent! I will act as her host while you stay at my apartment,
moy droog
.”

Sir eyed him suspiciously. “Before I let you have her, I’ll have to write down a list of what you can and cannot do in my absence.”

“Only if you feel a list is necessary.”

“Imperative.”

“Don’t you trust your longtime comrade?”

“After this last stunt? No.”

“That hurts,” Rytsar said, placing his hand over his heart. “But I will make it up to you both,” he promised solemnly. “Come—we will stuff our bellies, drink a bottle or two of vodka, and go over this list together.”

Pink or Blue

R
ytsar took them to the modern side of Moscow, famous for its towering skyscrapers and twisted glass buildings that looked more like art than offices.

“Moscow is such a cool city,” Brie exclaimed, looking up at the tall structures, in awe of their varied architectural design.

“It is a rare gem among the great cities,” Rytsar stated proudly. “Moscow has a long, rich history.”

He took them to a newly built apartment building made of glass and steel. It was a marvel of modern conveniences and artful design—the exact opposite of the historic mansion he’d grown up in.

“I can better understand why you have multiple dwellings, Rytsar,” Brie said, adding, “it gives you the chance to enjoy the old and the new.”