Just A Bit Ruthless

Roman Demidov strode out of the room where the hostages were held, in a most vile mood.

On his way to his study, he met a maid.After the other party glanced at him, his face immediately turned pale, and he quickly lowered his head, as if afraid of being noticed by him.Clever little girl.It's a pity that he is really too angry at the moment.

He grabbed her arm.The opponent was stiff and almost wanted to escape.

"It's Lina, isn't it?" he whispered, studying her blond hair and slender figure.She wasn't exactly pretty, but she had plump lips that looked soft.His eyes lingered on those lips, and he couldn't help biting his cheeks.

"Yes," she said submissively, and quickly lowered her gaze after glancing at him.He could see that the arteries in the opponent's small neck were pulsating rapidly.She was terrified of him, or perhaps agitated.Or both.

He opened the door of his study without a word and walked in.He knew someone else would follow in.

He was right—he was rarely wrong.

"Close the door," he said.

The door clicked shut behind him.

For a while, there was nothing but the howling of the cold wind outside the window and the sound of a branch hitting the glass window.In spite of the severe cold, the house was very warm.

There was no heating in the rough room. Thinking of this, Roman couldn't help recalling the boy's trembling body.The lack of heating is a strategic consideration: what you want to send "guests" into rough houses is to starve them, freeze them, and make them powerless-certainly not to serve them too attentively.

Roman clenched his cheeks.

"You either leave now," he said. "Either take off your clothes."

After a short pause, there was the rustling of clothes.

He took a deep breath, trying to relax his shoulders.It's not okay to hurt this girl, he still likes her-provided he didn't have the mood to destroy anything at the time.Or destroy someone.

"Come over to the table," he whispered.He wasn't in the mood for complicated foreplay.Not today.

She was wet there when he entered.

He was fully dressed and only unbuttoned his crotch, which made her scream softly, his fingers pinched her crotch tightly without mercy, he clenched his teeth, and stared straight at the wind and snow whistling outside the window.

When he ejaculated, he hardly felt it: it was just a catharsis, an outlet for his depressed emotions.It doesn't really do anything to improve your mood.

"Thank you, dear," he said afterward, taking some bills from his pocket and placing them on the desk.The girl was lying on the edge panting.

She showed a bewildered smiling face, grabbed the money and clothes, and hurried out of the room.

Roman fastened the condom and threw it in the trash.

He sank into a chair, lit a cigarette and closed his eyes.

Blyad.damned.

Even when he was just venting, the boy's golden curls and full cherry pink lips were still vivid.That mouth.Belonging to both angels and harlots.

Damn, he really wanted to ravage that mouth.

He'd thought about it from the first time he'd seen the boy in that restaurant, the boy in the suit and tie, eager to play the games of grown-ups but ignorant of the rules.

Roman is not used to saying no to his desires, he can always get what he wants.But this time he couldn't fuck the boy's mouth, he couldn't force his cock between those lips and choke the boy's breathing, he couldn't let his flesh satisfy his desire.

Fuck it!He's not gay.Regardless of how pretty that mouth was, the fact that he had a physical attraction to a boy made him uneasy.He doesn't like things that he can't comprehend or control, and it's extremely inappropriate in this situation.Instead of figuring out how to get the most out of Whitford's only son, he spent several minutes ruffling the boy's soft curls and staring at his mouth.unacceptable!What was especially unacceptable was that he actually softened his heart and ordered the guards to improve the food for the prisoners, just because the boy blinked his eyelashes a few times at him, and he was begging for mercy.

Roman sneered, disgusted and annoyed at himself.He should have starved the brat.He should have starved so that his beautiful lips faded and chapped, his rosy cheeks sunken with emaciation, making the boy ugly and disfigured.How could a rough-looking man like Richard Whitford have produced a son like that?I really don't get it.

Roman tossed the cigarette into the ashtray and pressed a button on the intercom. "Bring me a bottle of vodka, Vlad."

He didn't need to look, he could sense Vlad's surprise at the moment. "But you don't drink," said Vlad slowly. "You don't drink at all."

Roman muttered, "Vlad, your problem is that you have to say the obvious." His tone hardened. "Bring me a bottle now."

"Wait for me a minute," Vlad said, probably realizing that Roman wasn't in the mood to buy into him right now.

Vlad had been his security director for almost ten years.He is very loyal—he is one of the very few people that Roman quietly puts his trust in—but he always gets carried away, and disagrees with Roman's actions regardless of the occasion. Most people don't have the guts.

The door opened and closed again.

Vlad came in and put a bottle of vodka on the desk, his pale eyebrows knit together.He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again after meeting Roman's gaze.

Roman stared at the bottle of wine in front of him.His mouth felt parched and he really wanted to drink, but he stifled the urge without much trouble.He hadn't had a drink in 15 years, and it never occurred to him to relapse.He is still the master of his body and life.He can still control himself.

A boy with a mouth that looks like he was born to suck dick won't change that.

"Take it," he said, satisfied with his performance.

Vlad put the wine away without saying anything, and watched Roman silently with those gray eyes.

"Why?" Roman's tone remained unchanged.

"What are you going to do with that Whitford brat?"

Roman lit another cigarette and took a deep breath. "I have no plans yet. I have no plan to kidnap that kid at all." The kid jumped into the pit by himself.

Vlad tilted his head to one side, showing curiosity and said, "It's really not your style to act so impulsively."

Roman shook one shoulder. "I see the opportunity and I will do it."

Vlad nodded slowly. "In other words, you plan to use that kid?"

Use that kid.

"Of course I'll use that kid," Roman said, staring at the bottle of wine that Vlad still held in his hand.He deliberately looked away. "Teach Whitford a lesson."

"And make him pay you what he owes you," Vlad said.

"It's not about the money," Roman said, looking at the cigarette in his hand. "The British guy is playing dirty with me." Thinking of Mikhail's dead eyes, he crushed the cigarette in his hand. "Don't think that it's all over."

"Don't you think it's a little too cruel to involve that kid?"

"He's 23 years old," Roman said sternly.He confirmed this information.Confirmed twice.

Vlad snorted coldly. "It's almost invisible, isn't it? If I hadn't already known, I'd think he'd be sixteen at most. He looks... naive, I think."

Roman looked at him sharply. "Why are you talking about this all of a sudden?"

Vlad shrugged - was he avoiding Roman's sight? "He's a funny guy. He hasn't cried once in the past week, and he didn't make a fuss when he was brought in. He's basically a model prisoner."

Roman continued to watch him, watching Vlad grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"Is that so?" Roman said.

"Yes."

"He has blood bruises on his face," Roman said, watching the security chief. "And judging from his breathing, at least his ribs are bruised. I didn't order that."

Vlad swallowed.

Roman's expression was unrelenting, seeing Vlad's uneasiness in his eyes.When his subordinates tossed those "guests", he didn't bat an eyelid at all.However, he couldn't bear the fact that his orders were not being carried out accurately.He didn't allow his men to touch his new prisoner casually.

"You know brothers have something to do when they have nothing to do," Vlad said, still daring to look him in the eye.

"I know," Roman said. "But your job is to keep them in check."

Vlad nodded, his broad shoulders shrugged. "It won't happen again," he said, turning to leave.

Do you have a share too? said Roman.

Vlad froze.

"As expected," Roman said, his voice very soft.

"Listen—" Vlad's ears were red with excitement. "It happened just once. I knew I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have let myself go, but it was so fucking cold outside and I just took a few sips of vodka to warm myself up and—I knew it wasn't an excuse—"

"Not really."

"I know!" Vlad said, with frustration and regret mixed in his tone. "It's just that there's something wrong with that kid, which made everyone under me itch, and even I got tricked."

Roman narrowed his eyes: he probably knew what was tickling his group.Not even because of the boy's pretty face or that mouth that sucks, but the innocence that surrounds him.For men whose inner innocence was gone, the desire to taint him was simply irresistible.

On the one hand, he was relieved to know that he was not the only one affected by the boy; but on the other hand...if his subordinates were so easily influenced by the captive that they couldn't even carry out orders, then It might not be a good idea to leave Luke Whitford in the care of this group.It's dangerous.The people Roman has surrounded himself with are elite, but he suspects few of them have the self-control that he has.After some bastards get drunk, they might be easily fascinated by the boy's pretty mouth and deer-like eyes.

"You mean, you can't control your people?" Roman said in a low tone.

Vlad swallowed hard. "I mean I can't control them with that kid around." He replied with a wrinkled face. "No matter what I try to scare them, when they're idle or drunk, they're going to want to have fun. And that kid looks..." Vlad licked his mouth. "I don't care that much about men, but his appearance of being beaten black and blue is really fucking beautiful."

Roman moved his fingers. "Is that so?" He stared at the crackling fire in the fireplace.That boy is indeed dangerous.If even his security director, who is usually as immobile as a mountain, is provoked to be so anxious...

"Roman Danilovich?" Vlad tentatively asked.

He looked up. "I'm disappointed in you, Vlad."

He clenched his jaw, and Vlad nodded briefly, his muscular frame tense and uneasy.

Roman was silent for a moment.He likes to come out like this, to brew up his aura first.

"I hope there won't be another momentary lapse in judgment like this...," he concluded.

Vlad relaxed and let out a breath. "Not anymore. I promise."

"That's not enough," Roman said. "Transfer Whitford's son to the room next to mine."

Vlad opened his eyes wide. "What—but there are security risks in doing so—"

"Do you know what a 'safety hazard' is, Vlad?" Roman said firmly. "It's just that my security director is so fucking half-hearted at work."

Vlad flinched in horror. "I promise I won't—"

"Your guarantee alone is not enough. I didn't punish you because you were worthy of my life in the past. However, your current performance makes it impossible for me to hand over the little boy of the Whitford family. I will be responsible to you and your subordinates." Roman pursed his lips. "After the protection of that room is done, transfer that kid in. From now on, until you prove to me that you are worthy of entrustment in this matter, only I can contact that kid. Step back."

Vlad nodded, and went out with a face that had just been scolded.

As soon as the other party closed the door, Roman immediately leaned back on the chair, let out a breath, and let go of his clenched fists.

His grandma's.

This was the last thing he wanted to happen to.