Wicked Intentions (The Bobrov Bratva #1) Read Online Shandi Boyes

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: The Bobrov Bratva Series by Shandi Boyes
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Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
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“Open your fucking mouth.” Ghost growls out in a low, dangerous tone. “Before I force something more than steak down your throat.” His threat forces flashbacks of me on my knees in front of him into my head, and they have me obeying him as readily as I did then. “Now chew,” he demands after ripping off a chunk of steak with his teeth and pushing it between mine.

I don’t need to chew. The steak is so soft, just maneuvering it around my mouth with my tongue softens it to the point I can swallow it.

“Open again.”

This piece is three times the size of the first piece, so I have to chew a handful of times before swallowing to ensure I don’t choke.

“Was that so hard, маленький ягненок?”

When I shake my head, my dignity too low to argue, he plonks me onto the seat next to him, pulls it over until the armrests on our chairs touch, then drags over the entire serve of mashed potatoes as if it was made just for me.

“Eat, маленький ягненок. I won’t repeat myself again.” When I pick up the serving spoon and careen it to my mouth, a hint of amusement plays at Ghost’s usually straight lips. “And the little lamb is spared from slaughter again.”

9

KATIE

As I’m guided down the hallway of the sleeping quarters, I overhear a conversation. “The Petretti women are all groomed the same way. Tight cunts paraded around in white nightgowns with no panties or bra lines to be seen.”

“They’re dressed that way to entice you and have you believing their innocence,” adds a second accented voice.

My ears prick when the nickname I was given years ago breaks out of the room two doors down from the one Ghost just entered. “Pаб doesn’t need gimmicks, though. That little lamb has gained the eyes of every wolf, including the pack’s leader.”

I assume they’re referencing Ghost until a third voice mocks, “Do you think that’s why Ghost killed Grigori? He wanted him to debunk Rudd’s claims she’s a virgin so he could keep her for himself.” A ruckus occurs before he murmurs, “What? Did you fucking see her? I could see the lines of her cunt through her nightgown and every teeny tiny bump of her areolas. What I wouldn’t give for a lick.”

The man who thrust me into Ghost’s office earlier today doubles the lengths of his strides, but other than that, you’d be none the wiser he heard the men’s conversation.

That is until we reach Ghost’s room. “The line is thin, Ghost.”

Although this room is far bigger than the ones I was marched by during our long walk from the dining room, it is still compact and cramped. Even more so when Ghost’s spikes are hackled from his number two’s insinuation. “About as thin as my patience? Не издевайся надо мной, Alek. Это не закончится для вас хорошо.”

Not speaking another word, Alek dips his chin before leaving the room.

Ghost commences barking orders only seconds after he leaves. “You are not to walk these halls without panties. If you do, I will kill you. Interact with the likes of them…” he nudges his head in the direction of the men I overheard, his ticking jaw announcing he heard them too, “… I will kill you. Give them any indication they’re in with a shot, I will kill you. Disobey my orders—”

“You will kill me. I understand.”

He doesn’t look happy about my interruption. If anything, he appears displeased. That is so unlike other men in this industry. Submissiveness is all they crave.

“Yes.” He gestures his head to a small, shiny door on the right. “Shower then bed. Clothes will be waiting on the dresser when you’re done. They are yours to keep.” He hands me a silver key. “Lock the door anytime you leave this room. If I find it open…”

You will kill me.

I grow panicked that I said my reply out loud when his eyes snap to mine. I don’t know what happened between the dining room and here, but his hooded gaze is murderous, and no amount of banter will bring his mood close to a manageable level.

“Lock the door when I leave. Don’t open it for anyone.”

I nod in understanding before shadowing him to the door. The lock is flimsy, but the power it fills me with is immense. My room has not had a door in years, much less one with a lock.

My bewilderment grows when I enter the bathroom. This door has a lock as well, and the shower has proper running water. I don’t have to have a sponge bath.

In my excitement to wash off the doctor’s blood from my skin the splashes from the ocean didn’t take care of, I slip out of my nightgown, switch on the faucet, then step under the spray before the water is close to pleasant.


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