Hold Me

Chapter 11

11

Julian

“So what’s the damage?” I ask Lucas as we leave the training area. I’m breathing hard, my muscles are sore, and my left shoulder is aching, but I feel satisfied.

I’m nearly back to my former fighting shape—as the three guards limping away can testify.

“There was another hit in France, and two more in Germany.” Lucas wipes the sweat off his face with a balled-up towel. “He’s not wasting any time.”

“I didn’t think he would.” Given Peter Sokolov’s singular focus on revenge, I know it’s only a matter of time before he eliminates the rest of the men on that list. “How did he do it this time?”

“The French guy was found floating in a river, with marks of torture and strangulation, so I’m guessing Sokolov must’ve kidnapped him first. For the Germans, one hit was a car bomb, and the other one a sniper rifle.” Lucas grins darkly. “They must not have pissed him off as much.”

“Or he went for expediency.”

“Or that,” Lucas agrees. “He probably knows Interpol is on his tail.”

“I’m sure he does.” I try to imagine what I would do if someone hurt my family, and a shudder of fury ripples through me. I can’t even imagine what Peter must be feeling—not that it excuses his endangering Nora to get this f*****g list.

I still want to kill him for that.

“By the way,” Lucas says casually, “I’m having Yulia Tzakova brought here from Moscow.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “The interpreter who betrayed us to the Ukrainians? Why?”

“I want to personally interrogate her,” Lucas says, draping the towel around his neck. “I don’t trust the Russians to do a thorough job.” His expression is as impassive as ever, but I see a hint of excitement in his pale gaze.

He’s looking forward to this.

I narrow my eyes, studying him. “Is it because you f****d her that night in Moscow?” The Russian girl came on to me first, but I passed on her invitation—and then Lucas expressed an interest in her. “Is that what this is about?”

His mouth hardens. “She f****d me over. Literally. So yeah, I want to get my hands on the little b***h. But I also think she might have some useful info for us.”

I consider that for a moment, then nod. “In that case, go for it.” It would be hypocritical of me to deny Lucas some fun with the pretty blonde. If he wants to personally make her pay for the plane crash, I see no harm in that.

She would’ve been dead before long in Moscow anyway.

“Did you already negotiate this with the Russians?” I ask as we resume walking.

Lucas nods. “Initially, they tried to say they’d only deal with Sokolov, but I convinced them it wouldn’t be wise to get on your bad side. Buschekov saw the light when I reminded him of the recent troubles at Al-Quadar.”

“Good.” If even the Russians are inclined to accommodate me, then my vendetta against the terrorist organization achieved its intended effect. Not only is Al-Quadar utterly decimated, but my reputation is substantially enhanced. Few of my clients are likely to double-cross me now—a development that promises to be good for business.

“Yes, it’s helpful,” Lucas echoes my thoughts. “She’ll be arriving here tomorrow.”

I raise my eyebrows, but decide against commenting on the speed of this development. If he wants to play with the Russian girl this badly, it’s his business. “Where are you going to keep her?” I ask instead.

“In my quarters. I’ll be interrogating her there.”

I grin, picturing the interrogation in question. “All right. Enjoy.”

“Oh, I will,” he says grimly. “You can bet on it.”

After I take a shower, I go looking for Nora. Or, rather, I check my computer for the location of her embedded trackers and go directly to the library, where she must be studying for her finals.

I find her sitting at a desk facing away from me, typing furiously on her laptop. Her hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, and she’s wearing a huge T-shirt that falls down to her knees.

My T-shirt, from the looks of it.

She’s started doing that lately when she has to study. Claims my T-shirts are more comfortable than her dresses. I don’t mind in the least. Seeing her dressed in my clothes only emphasizes the fact that she’s mine.

Both she and the baby she’s carrying.

She doesn’t react as I step into the room and walk up to her. When I reach her, I see why.

She’s wearing headphones, her smooth forehead wrinkled in concentration as she pounds at the keyboard, her fingers flying over the keys with startling speed. For a second, I consider leaving her to it, but it’s too late. Nora must’ve seen me out of the corner of her eye, because she looks up and gives me a dazzling smile, removing her headphones.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft and a little husky. “Is it dinnertime already?”

“Not quite.” I smile back and place my hands on the nape of her neck. Her muscles feel tight, so I begin kneading them with my thumbs. “I just did a few rounds with my men and came here to take a shower before I go back to my office. Figured I’d check on you on the way.”

“Oh.” She arches into my touch, closing her eyes. “Oh, yeah, right there… Oh, that’s so good…”

She sounds like I’m f*****g her, and my response is instantaneous.

I get hard. Very hard.

Fuck.

Drawing in a breath, I rein in my lust, like I’ve been doing for the past two weeks. When I take her tonight, it will again be in a careful and controlled manner. Regardless of the provocation, I will not risk damaging the baby.

“Is that your Psychology paper?” I keep my tone even as I continue to massage her neck. “You seem to be really into it.”

“Oh, yeah.” She opens her eyes and tilts her head to look at me. “It’s on Stockholm Syndrome.”

My hands still. “Is that right?”

She nods, a dark little smile curving her lips. “Yes. Interesting subject, don’t you think?”

“Yes, fascinating,” I say drily. My pet is definitely getting bolder. Taunting me—likely in the hopes that I’ll punish her.

And I want to. My hands itch to bend her over my knee, hike up that giant T-shirt, and spank her perfectly shaped ass until it’s pink and red. My c**k throbs at the image, especially when I imagine spreading open her cheeks afterwards and penetrating her tight little asshole—

Fucking stop thinking about it. I see Nora’s smile deepen as her eyes flick down to the bulge in my jeans. The little witch knows exactly what she’s doing to me, what kind of effect she’s having on my body.

“Yes, I’m loving it,” she murmurs, her gaze returning to my face. “I’m learning so much about the topic.”

I inhale slowly and resume rubbing her neck. “Then you’ll have to educate me, my pet,” I say calmly, as if my body isn’t raging with the need to f**k her. “I’m afraid I skipped Psychology at Caltech.”

Nora’s smile turns sardonic. “You’re just a natural then, aren’t you?”

I hold her gaze silently, not bothering to reply. There’s no need for words. I saw her, I wanted her, and I took her. It’s as simple as that. If she wants to label our relationship, to make it fit some psychobabble definition, she’s free to do so.

She’ll just never be free of me.

After a few moments, she sighs and closes her eyes, leaning into my touch again. I can feel her muscles slowly relaxing as I massage her shoulders and neck. The challenging expression fades from her face, leaving her looking peculiarly young and defenseless. With her eyelashes fanning over her smooth cheeks, she seems as innocent as a newborn fawn, untouched by anything bad in life.

Untouched by me.

For a moment, I wonder what it would be like if things were different. If I were just a boy she met in school, like that Jake I took her from. Would she love me more? Would she love me at all? If I didn’t take her the way I did, would she have been mine?

It’s foolish to wonder about that, of course. I might as well speculate about time travel or what I’d do if the world came to an end. My reality doesn’t allow for what-ifs. What if my parents didn’t die and I finished Caltech? What if I’d refused to kill that man when I was eight? What if I’d been able to protect Maria? If I think about all that, I’ll go insane, and I refuse to let that happen.

I am what I am, and I can’t change.

Not even for her.

“I talked to my parents this afternoon,” Nora says as we sit down to dinner that evening. “They asked me again about visiting them.”

“Did they now?” I give her a sardonic look. “And is that all you talked to them about?”

Nora looks down at her salad plate. “I’m going to tell them soon.”

“When?” It pisses me off that she keeps acting like the baby doesn’t exist. “When you deliver?”

“No, of course not.” She looks up and frowns at me. “How do you know I didn’t tell them yet, anyway? Are you listening in on my conversations?”

“Of course.” I don’t listen in on everything, but I’ve eavesdropped a few times. Just enough to know that her parents remain in blissful ignorance of the latest development in their daughter’s life. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have Nora think all her conversations are monitored. “Did you expect me not to?”

Her lips tighten. “Yes, perhaps. Privacy being a basic human right and all that.”

“There’s no such thing as a basic human right, my pet.” I want to laugh at her naïveté. “That’s a made-up construct. Nobody owes you anything. If you want something in life, you have to fight for it. You have to make it happen.”

“Like you made my captivity happen?”

I give her a cool smile. “Precisely. I wanted you, so I took you. I didn’t sit around pining and wishing.”

“Or dwelling on the construct of human rights, apparently.” Her voice holds just the faintest edge of sarcasm. “Is that how you will raise our child? Just take what you want and don’t worry about hurting people?”

I inhale slowly, noting the tension in her features. “Is that what worries you, my pet?”

“A lot of things worry me,” she says evenly. “And yes, raising a child with a man who lacks a conscience is fairly high on the list.”

For some reason, her words sting. I want to reassure her, tell her that she’s wrong to worry, but I can’t lie to her any more than I can lie to myself.

I have no idea how I’m going to raise this child, what kind of lessons I’m going to impart. Men like me—men like my father—aren’t meant to have children. She knows it, and I know it too.

As though sensing my thoughts, Nora asks quietly, “Why do you even want this baby, Julian? Why is it so important to you?”

I look at her silently, unsure how to answer the question. There’s no good reason for this child to be as important to me as it is. No reason for me to want it as badly as I do. I should’ve been upset—or at the very least, annoyed—by Nora’s pregnancy, but instead, when Goldberg gave us the news, the emotion I felt was so foreign that I didn’t recognize it at first.

It was joy.

Pure, unadulterated joy.

For a brief, blissful moment, I was truly happy.

When I don’t respond, Nora exhales and looks down at her plate again. I watch as she cuts a piece of tomato and begins to eat her salad. Her face is pale and strained, yet each of her movements is so graceful and feminine that I’m hypnotized, completely absorbed by the sight of her.

I can watch her for hours.

When I first brought her to the island, the mealtimes were my favorite part of the day. I loved interacting with her, seeing her battle her fear and try to maintain her composure. Her stoic, fragile bravery had delighted me almost as much as her delicious body. She’d been terrified, yet I could see the calculation behind her timid smiles and shy flirting.

In her own quiet way, my pet has always been a fighter.

“Nora…” I want to take away her stress, her understandable worry, but I can’t lie to her. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. So when she looks up, I say only, “This baby is part you, part me. That’s reason enough for me to care.” And when she continues to look at me, her expression unchanging, I add quietly, “I’m going to do the best I can for our child, my pet. That much I can promise you.”

The corners of her lips lift in a fleeting smile. “Of course you will, Julian. And so will I. But will that be enough?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” I respond, and as Ana brings out the next course, we focus on the food and let the topic rest.