The Director

Chapter 1-2

Ravil

“Lady Luck.”

I catch the elbow of the lovely blonde attorney as she sways. I’m so shocked to find her here—in Chicago of all places—I fail at first to notice the cause of her swoon.

Then I see it. Her belly protrudes indelicately below the button on her designer suit jacket.

Her pregnant belly.

I do the math very quickly. Valentine’s night. Broken c****m. Five months ago. Yes, her bump is the right size to be mine. But I could’ve skipped the calculation—everything’s there on her colorless face.

She’s having my baby. And she didn’t want me to know it.

Blyat.

I may have thought many times about our night together. I may have even returned to the club in DC to seek her—without luck. But her thoughts of me have not been so fond.

She’s definitely not happy to see me. In fact, she looks downright alarmed.

As well she should be.

I take in a measured breath.

“Luck indeed,” I murmur, releasing her elbow as she quickly recovers, her ice-princess mask snapping firmly into place on her lovely face.

Lady Luck was the name she chose at the roulette event where I met her. Until today, I didn’t know her real name. Nor that we live in the same city.

“Mr. Turgenev.” She offers a slim hand to Adrian, who slouches a little as she shakes it, intimidated by her presence. “And Mr. Baranov, was it?”

“Call me Ravil.”

Or Master, as you called me the last time we were together.

Her brown eyes skitter to my face again. She’s even more beautiful than I remember. Pregnancy has softened her already lovely face with a few extra pounds. She has a radiant glow.

“Nice to meet you. Please, sit down.” She indicates the chairs across from her desk.

“You came highly recommended, Ms. Lawrence.” I sit, and I watch her as she shuffles the papers in her file. Her hand trembles slightly. When she sees me looking, she immediately drops the papers, snapping her head up and fixing Adrian with a shrewd gaze.

“So, you’re charged with aggravated arson. You allegedly burned down West Side Upholstery where you worked. Your bail posted at one hundred thousand and was paid by Mr. Baranov.” She flicks a glance at me then returns to focus on Adrian. “Tell me what happened.”

Adrian shrugs his shoulders. He’s one of the newest to join my fold. His accent is still thick, despite my edict that he must only speak English. I require that of all my men because it’s the quickest way to learn.

“I work at sofa factory, yes. But I know nothing about the fire.”

“The police found lighter fluid on your uniform.”

“I had barbecue after work.”

He sure did. Right after he broke into Leon Poval’s home, hoping to kill him with his bare hands. When he found the man’s apartment empty, he burned his factory down to console himself.

He’s obviously unconvincing, still in his defensive posture from being questioned by the police. I don’t tell him to act otherwise. It’s not my habit to reveal any cards before they should be turned over, even if she is working for us.

I’m also far less interested in Adrian’s case now that I am working out what’s going on with my beautiful attorney. Why didn’t she tell me?

“You were only hired there last week?”

“Da.”

I cut him a look.

“Yes,” he amends.

“Before that you worked for Mr. Baranov?” she glances my way. “As a...structural engineer?”

Adrian shrugs again. “Yes.”

“Why did you take a minimum wage job at a sofa factory when you’re trained as an engineer?”

“I have an interest in building furniture.”

Lucy sits back, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “I am better able to help you if you give me the truth.” She glances my way, as if for support. “Do you know about attorney-client privilege? Anything we discuss about your case will remain confidential and can’t be compelled from me in a court of law.”

I do nothing to intercede. This is her job. She can work for my money.

Adrian gives her a bored look.

She blows out a breath. “So you didn’t go back to the factory after work that night? Or stay late?”

Adrian shakes his head. “Nyet—no.”

She continues to interview him, jotting things down and studying both him and me. I remain silent. Let her wonder and worry.

I’m already making my plans. This afternoon I need to find out everything there is to know about Lucy Lawrence. And then I’ll know exactly what angle to take with her.

“I can probably plea-bargain it down to arson. It carries three to seven years in prison instead of four to fifteen for aggravated.”

“No,” I cut in. “He will plead not guilty. That’s why we hired the best to represent him.”

She doesn’t look surprised. “All right. I require a fifty thousand dollar retainer, payable before I enter the plea. And I will need more to work on if I’m going to win this case.”

I stand, signaling the end of the interview. “I’ll transfer the money today, and we will discuss the events some more. Thank you, counselor.”

She stands and walks around the desk. Her high heels would say f**k-me if they were red, but because they’re nude are more of an I’ll-f**k-you. Especially the way she struts in them like she lives at that altitude. I’ll bet she’s a barracuda as a lawyer. Paolo Tacone said as much.

The pregnancy does nothing to soften the edges of her imposing stature. If anything, it makes her even more goddess-like. The female form to be both worshipped and feared.

Except I know she’s the one who prefers to be dominated.

I’m guessing that’s a secret not many share. She was untried at submission when I had her. If she hasn’t pursued it since, I may be the only man who’s dominated her.

That thought shouldn’t get me hard, but it does.

I will dominate her again.

I adjust my c**k at the idea, and her gaze drops to my crotch. Some of her regal composure falls away. A flush colors her neck and the flesh visible in the open V of her expensive blouse.

I take her hand when she offers it, and I squeeze, but don’t let go. Her intelligent brown gaze tangles with mine, and I hold it.

Her breath stutters and stops.

“Adrian, wait in the hallway for me. I’ll be there in a moment.” Adrian leaves, and I shut the door behind him, still holding her hand.

Her eyes slightly widen. She resumes breathing with a little gasp as she tugs her hand away as if I scalded her. “Ravil.”

A prickle runs through me at the sound of my name on her lips. Because she says it like she’s claiming it for herself. Like she, too, regretted the absence of personal details after our encounter.

But that’s impossible. If she’s carrying my child, she had every reason, right, and responsibility to contact Black Light and request my personal information. To contact me with the news.

And she didn’t. Which means she didn’t want to know my name.

“Do you have something to tell me, Lucy Lawrence?”

“No,” she clips, turning away, her business-like demeanor in full command.

I catch her arm, and she rubberbands back. I immediately release it when she shoots a laser-beam glare at my hand.

“You really should have called.” I give her belly a pointed look.

She draws herself up taller, the muscles in the front of her neck going stiff. “It’s not yours,” she blurts as color suffuses her face. Her pupils are tiny points of fear.

The lie hits me square in the chest. I was right. She didn’t want me to know the existence of this child.

I c**k my head. “Why lie?”

Her neck and chest spread with color, too, but she keeps her voice as even and low as mine. “I know what you are, Ravil. I don’t believe your”—she clears her throat for emphasis— “profession lends itself to fatherhood. I won’t ask for child support. Don’t ask for visitation. Don’t make me prove in a courtroom why you’re unfit to parent.”

My upper lip curls at her threat. I am a man who’s reached the top of my organization and this city with quick, emotionless thinking. I don’t usually take offense. I don’t usually make things personal.

But this time, it’s f*****g personal. Lucy Lawrence thinks I’m unfit to parent my child? She thinks she’ll keep this child from me?

Fuck. That.

I give her a smile that promises retribution. “Don’t worry, counselor. I won’t ask.”

I’ll take.

“I look forward to seeing you again.” I pack everything into my words—innuendo and warning—and she reads it all.