The Agreement (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 1) Bethany-Kris (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📖

Bruises.

Blue and fresh.

He had a good idea who put them there, too. Dima had her eating out of the palm of his hand. He hurt her; maybe it was some shit he got off on, or maybe it was just because he could. Either way, she had to sit there and listen to him boast about all the other women he was using—or trafficking.

Fun times.

And he needed to get his head out of that headspace. Fast.

Roman tried to focus on the way her tongue moved over his cock instead of the imprints of bruises he could still see even after he closed his eyes. After a while, it started to work. She sucked him hard. He controlled her hair like reins around his hand. Yanking and tugging her while he fucked her mouth exactly the way he wanted.

When he came, he filled her mouth with his sticky cum until it dribbled down the side of her mouth while her tongue was still flat to the base of his cock, and she stared up at him. Only then did he pull away. Anastasia wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Her perfect red lipstick was smudged now.

She eyed him with her big green eyes while he pulled up his pants, waiting for something, maybe. What, he didn’t know.

Did she expect something?

He wasn’t Dima—wouldn’t hurt her. Roman also wasn’t a saint; the furthest thing from it really, and he got what he wanted here. Everything else was over.

Staring back at her, it was the first time he noticed the smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. He allowed himself that one moment to feel sorry for her—whatever her circumstance—before he reached down and fished the key out of the front of her dress. She had wedged it deep down her cleavage, but he had a pretty good view of it the entire time.

He’d noted the Bugatti emblem on the keychain at first glance. It wasn’t the kind of car he could forget, and while he might have had other things on his mind earlier when they first arrived, he didn’t miss the vehicle when Dima pulled up, either.

He had to hand it to Anastasia. She at least tried to make a grab for the key. Roman held it out of her reach with a dry chuckle, and a little shake of his head.

“I would apologize, but I don’t think you really care,” he said.

“Of course, I care ... he’s going to kill me!”

Anastasia scrambled up from the ground, following him on shaky legs as he walked past her without a glance backward. Marky turned when Roman approached, and he tossed the key his friend’s way with a laugh.

There was no way that Dima drove all the way from Chicago in a Bugatti. It was pretty obvious that it was a rental. He was already delighting at the thought of chopping the car down and shipping it overseas to one of the clients on his list. Roman had spent the past decade adding up a trusted roll-call of clients who would drool at the vehicle he was about to have in his possession.

“What are you going to do with it?” she called behind him.

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Steal it for your chop shop?”

He gave Marky a look from the side, his tone mocking when he said, “She’s got brains, man. Imagine.”

Marky barked a laugh. “Shut up, asshole.”

Roman only shrugged, but even that wasn’t enough for Anastasia. She followed him down the alley while Marky went ahead of him with the key swinging from his index finger. It would have been easier if the chick disappeared by now. He half-expected her to go running to Dima or the others from his bratva to warn them of Roman’s plan.

Instead, her heels clicked on the cobbled alley while she tried to keep up with them.

“Please, I’m serious. God. Christ, listen to me! He will kill me, this will be all my fault,” she cried out again, a tremble in her voice making Roman hesitate.

When he turned to her this time, she was holding her arms out for him to see where she had shoved up the sleeves of her dress. There were more than just the bruises he had initially noticed. Cuts and deeper looking wounds, some fresh and others starting to heal, marked the insides of her arms.

Roman swallowed hard. “You’re not any better than any of the other girls he ships from state to state—you’re just paid.”

She didn’t reply, but the stuttering breath of air she released told him more than she could, anyway. He wasn’t up for playing hero with a woman—any woman, really. No one had time for that shit, but ...

Roman mulled over what to do. When he threw a look at Marky over his shoulder, his best friend gave him a raised brow and a tilt of his head in Anastasia’s direction like he was silently saying, Come on, Roman.

Jesus.

“Fine,” Roman told her, “you can come with us, but see yourself gone before morning.”

Relief swept over her face when she nodded wildly. “Yes, thank you, that’s all I need. Just a head start tonight.”

“Then, hurry the fuck up,” he growled.

Because he didn’t have time to keep being nice.

Marky had already made his way to the Bugatti parked at the side of the restaurant, opened the driver’s door and got the vehicle running. Ready for Roman to jump inside, and get gone as fast as he could. While there were bulls everywhere, keeping a watch on the premises, nobody even glanced his way when the Avdonin Prince slipped into a parked car. The key of which he already possessed.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Anastasia climbed into the passenger seat, exhaling deeply as she tried to catch her breath. Roman caught her eye as he pressed down on the accelerator. She smiled back.

He didn’t.

She would give him anything he wanted.

That much was clear.

The problem?

He was already bored.

THREE

“So, you haven’t