The Boss’s Runaway (Possessive Kingpins)

I woke up in a strange place. That wasn’t new for me, but it wasn’t cold for the first time in months.

Of course, I was used to the cold. I preferred it over other forms of discomfort. Still, it was nice to be warm once in a while. A treat. My hunger-dazed mind flipped through the events that had led up to me waking up warm.

The man. The pakhan. The one with the power staring down at me as I clutched at him. He hadn’t seemed disgusted by my filthy state and obvious desperation, but he hadn’t looked at me with pity. His face had been a black mask of humorless caution. A blank, handsome mask. Only when I’d touched his hand had a spark of life entered his dark eyes.

I don’t like to be touched. 

How different he was from Viktor and his men, with their whores every night. Jae Han Song was cool and refined, a crisp, beautiful model of discipline and strength next to the rabble of uncouth messiness I had been shipped off to. I’d heard the men saying his name when he’d left, and it had struck me as being as beautiful as he was.

I looked around the room. It was like Jae Han. Cold and beautiful. Dark wooden floors and white, pristine walls. Black and white art hung on the walls, and a vase of blood-red roses sat in the bay window. I turned my legs and stood up. The smell of myself immediately hit me, and I nearly gagged. I went to the three doors set in one wall and tried one. It was locked. I tried the next and found it was a dressing room. A plush carpet and rows upon rows of empty velvet-lined shelves met my gaze, whispering of a life I’d never have. The next door was the bathroom. I entered and stared at the walk-in marble shower. It had matte gold taps and a rainfall showerhead, and it might have been the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. Even the toilet could have reduced me to tears if I was a weaker woman.

I got in the shower, leaving my filthy clothes in the corner of the white marble floor. It felt wrong to put something so dirty against such a pretty surface. The hot water rained down gently on me, and I adjusted the pressure to make it pound at me. I needed a power hose to wash away the memories of the last few weeks. Dark water swirled down the drain, and I washed my hair with shampoo from bottles set in the wall in fancy holders. It smelled prettier than the fanciest perfume Viktor had ever bought for me.

Getting out after the longest shower, I wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at myself. There I was—same old Katya. Somehow, I’d survived again. My mother had always told me I was like a cat and had nine lives. Which life was I on now?

So far, despite what might happen to me in Jae Han Song’s home, it was the best one.

I thought of the cold, reserved kingpin who’d brought me here. He’d been about to refuse. I could see how little he wanted to get involved with a random stranger, and then I’d fainted perfectly on cue, and he’d had no choice.

Well, of course, he’d had a choice. He could have left me there for random made men of his family to come and take turns with, or he could have pushed me out of his car on a busy street and left me to the mercy of New York. Worse, he could have simply tipped me out of one of the windows of the old warehouse overlooking the river.

Instead, he’d brought me here to a warm bed, a clean bathroom, and a locked bedroom door. I wrapped my long, white-blonde hair in a towel and wandered around the room, looking for something to wear. I couldn’t find anything. Maybe he’d forgotten to supply it, or maybe I had to earn clothes. Time would tell. Anyway, I had vowed to do anything he wanted, as long as he didn’t send me back, and I’d keep my word.

So far, from what I’d seen of Jae Han Song, complying with his darkest wishes wouldn’t be a hardship at all.