THE SOLDIER

I hate myself for even hesitating. I mean, I really, truly hate myself. But that’s how bad I want this dream.

Tears prick my eyes as I turn. “Thanks, but I’d rather get there a different way.”

Why did I even thank him? Seriously. What is wrong with me?

I throw the door open and stumble out, ignoring the assistant, who is on her phone, and the assistant’s assistant, who is also on his phone.

I throw open the front door and run out, straight to my car. Once I’m in it, I back out as quickly as I can. It’s not until I’m on the road driving that I break down into sobs.

I need to talk to a friend. I could call one of my roommates, but something makes me call Sasha, instead. She’s the strongest woman I know. She’ll make me feel better.

The moment she answers, she hears me sniffing. “Kayla? What is it? Did Pavel do something? I will kill him.”

“No, it’s not Pavel. I’m supposed to be with him right now, but…”

“But what? What’s going on?” Sasha’s Russian accent gets thicker with urgency.

“I just got… casting couched.” I sniff.

“Aw, fuck!” Sasha has the cutest way of saying fuck. I love her accent. “What happened? Are you okay? You should go to the police.”

I suck in a breath. “No. I don’t want to go to the police. Nothing actually happened. I mean, he didn’t force himself on me or anything. It was just sexual harassment. He wanted me to give him a blowjob to prove how far I’d go to please him.”

“What a dick! I’m so sorry that happened to you. God, don’t tell Pavel, he will literally kill the guy.”

I sniff but my sobs subside as I suddenly focus on her words. “Um, when you say literally…”

“I mean… seriously, Kayla-Pavel will kill him. Like shoot him in the head and kill him. Bratva men are serious about protecting their women.”

My pulse races. “I… I can’t let that happen. He already told me he’s wanted for murder in Russia. At least, I think that’s what he implied.”

“Really? I didn’t know. But that’s how it’s supposed to be-we’re not supposed to know such things. Honestly, I don’t think I’d tell him if I were you. He’s going to want vengeance. Pavel is not a forgiving guy, I know that much about him.”

I mop my tears with one hand while steering with the other. I probably shouldn’t be driving in the state I’m in.

“I think you should #MeToo him on social media,” Sasha declares. “It could win you sympathy points and get you other casting calls. You know-use this to your advantage while shaming the hell out of him.”

“I don’t know…” I say slowly. I still fear getting blacklisted.

“Yeah, actually, Pavel could see it, and that could backfire. Nevermind. Bad idea. And, I mean, if you want Pavel to kill him-I’m not judging. It could be nice having your warrior slay dragons for you.”

“No,” I say quickly. “God, no. I would never want to be the reason he killed. I mean, I don’t want any of that.”

“Of course you don’t. Well, maybe cancel with Pavel for this weekend if you’re not up to seeing him. Tell him you’re sick. He doesn’t have to get his dick sucked every single weekend, right?”

For some reason, the thought of not seeing Pavel sends a whirlwind of anxiety rushing through me.

“No, I’m okay. I’m an actress. I know how to change my mood-or fake it.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I think you need a big hug right now, not Pavel domming you around.”

Actually, the thought of diving straight into that role-the fantasy role where all I have to do is surrender-sounds perfect. “No, I’m good. Thanks for talking me through this. I knew there was a reason I called you and not Ashley or Kimberly.”

“All right. Virtual hug to you. Call me again if you want to talk more, okay?”

“I will, thanks.” I end the call just as I pull into the valet parking for the Four Seasons. I tug the mirror down and wipe under my eyes. I look like crap, but maybe I can tell Pavel I need a shower first. He knows I’m coming straight from an audition that ran long.

Squaring my shoulders, I take my bag from the trunk and enter the hotel. I practice my smile, trying to lighten my mood. Whatever I do, I can’t let Pavel know the truth.

Pavel

I stand on the balcony of the hotel room, trying to unclench my fingers. Kayla’s hours late and hasn’t responded to my last couple texts checking in. The need to get in a car and drive somewhere very fast to make sure she’s unharmed spikes about every five minutes, but of course, I don’t know where to drive.

Damn. I should’ve put a tracker in her phone like Ravil and Maxim did with their women. I chose not to because I already control so many aspects of Kayla’s life, plus it felt like a betrayal of trust. She gives herself freely, and she wouldn’t lie. My enemies are in Chicago, not here, so I didn’t think her safety was at issue. Why would I need to track her?

My phone beeps with an incoming text. Just got here. I’m so sorry, Master, the audition went really long.

Thank fuck. I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding and step inside. I want to go down and meet her, to carry her bag, but I’m not sure which way she’s coming, so I wait until she knocks on the door.

I open it, all set to give her a cool command to take off her clothes when I realize her mood is all wrong. She avoids my gaze, ducking her head as she passes me. I pick up her suitcase and bring it to the rack.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She still barely meets my gaze. Fuck-are her eyes red?

What in the hell happened?