Ezra Sokolov: Cypher Security, #2

By Celia Crown

I never wanted something as desperately as I wanted her.

 

So small, so pretty, and so damn strong.

 

I want to dominate her, control those lithe curves of her body, and poison her sharp mind with my name.

 

Nothing had gotten me this thrilled.

 

Not the adrenaline from bare-fisted boxing, not the cracks of bones rippling into my ears, and not the one hundred-million-dollar prize from the champion match.

 

None of that comes on par when her thighs had straddled me, hand cutting into my neck and eyes lighting up with ferociousness.

 

I want her, and I'm going to have her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Crown
• Release date: Apr 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223737209

Book preview

EZRA SOKOLOV

CYPHER SECURITY SERIES - BOOK 2

____________________

CELIA CROWN

Copyright © 2020 by Celia Crown.

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

Contents

Ezra Sokolov

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Afterword

More Books

Ezra Sokolov

By Celia Crown

I never wanted something as desperately as I wanted her.

So small, so pretty, and so damn strong.

I want to dominate her, control those lithe curves of her body, and poison her sharp mind with my name.

Nothing had gotten me this thrilled.

Not the adrenaline from bare-fisted boxing, not the cracks of bones rippling into my ears, and not the one hundred-million-dollar prize from the champion match.

None of that comes on par when her thighs had straddled me, hand cutting into my neck and eyes lighting up with ferociousness.

I want her, and I’m going to have her.

Chapter One

___________

Ezra

Oh, my beautiful daughter. Long time no see!

I sigh into my scarf and grumble under my breath at the uninvited appearance of my father. The man has no qualms at all about timing, but I should be accustomed to his flighty tactics.

He likes to appear and disappear at odd times; it is normal not to hear from him for a month if I am lucky.

He once went on a journey of self-discovery for a year and then grew a beard when he came back to civilization.

Welcome home, Dad, I say with a smooth turn of my body to dodge his open arms.

He’s sweating and panting, but he shouldn’t be since he just jumped out of his haphazardly parked car on the side of the road.

People are giving us dirty looks, partly because he is screaming at the top of his lungs at seven on a Saturday morning.

You wouldn’t believe what happened! he exclaims with a puff of his chest.

Mom wouldn’t like it if you brought back a car that won’t run after two miles, I quip quietly as I walk with him.

It is more of me walking while trying to ignore his constant chattering and him catching up to my strides. I had to remind him to lock his car before it gets carjacked.

It was a nineteen sixty-two Jaguar E-Type, still one of the most beautiful classic cars ever known to humankind.

Humankind is doomed with that kind of taste. I groan at the thought of that hideous car.

I don’t understand the fascination with classic cars, and I do not care for them. But Dad loves them so much that he’ll spend every dime on them.

That is if he is not terrified of Mom whipping out her feather duster and whacking that notion out the window, along with his soul.

What are you doing here, Dad? I question, stopping near a store to speak to him without blocking the sidewalk.

I can’t visit my daughter? he asks.

He is shocked for some reason.

I recall you wanted to go ‘no-contact’ on your duck-hunting trip, I point out dully.

He becomes flustered. Ah, yes, that. I decided it was not for me, but I did pick up on something else.

Please don’t tell me it’s one of your Vegas girls. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose to ease the thumping pain at my temple.

My father gasps and presses his wrinkled fingers to his chest. That was a one-time misunderstanding; you know my heart belongs to your mother.

You say it as if she’s not your wife, I grumble with a huff.

He laughs animatedly with a hint of nervousness. When I told your mother what my newest investment is—

Investment, is that what you call your spontaneous trips?

My father swallows and scowls softly at me. As I was saying, your mother doesn’t approve of my interest in boxing.

What? Is wrestling with bears not exciting enough for you? I raise an eyebrow as his hand closes around my elbow to guide me to his car.

The ugliest classic car I have seen in his collection, but I’ll keep that opinion to myself so he stays on topic.

"What happened in Russia stays in Russia, my yezhik."

Little hedgehog, his favorite term of endearment for me.

My father is a big man; people have mistaken him for a Neanderthal coming out of hiding after millions of years. A full-blooded Russian, his skin is darker than usual for that country.

My mother is a small woman on the feistier side, despite not being taken seriously. She can hold her own in a fight and come out the winner with a slipper in her hand.

I take after my mother in both size and personality. Maybe I would have taken after Dad a bit more if he was not so into living life to its fullest when I was a child.

I don’t resent him for his parenting style because he was so affectionate whenever he came back.

It is not healthy, but every family is different.

So, I begin calmly as his car purrs to life.

For such an old car, it does not sputter or groan when it starts. I’m more concerned about taking it onto a notoriously high-traffic freeway. But he is too joyful to care much about it.

It is going to be so embarrassing to have the car shut down in the middle of the freeway.

So, he mimics me.

Where are we going? I ask. This is my one week of vacation, I expect it to be relaxing.

You don’t want to spend time with me? he inquires.

Not really, I quip bluntly.

He nudges his chin towards the glove compartment. Open it. There’s something I need you to sign.

Doing as he says, I find a heavy folder with a pen that rolls away from my curious fingers when I open it. The document is way too familiar, and a sense of dread wrangles my stomach.

Who do you want me to protect? I question as I purse my lips.

I work for Cypher Security, so it is no surprise my father would take advantage of that. He is a businessman, or so he says.

He said he was a spiritual guide three months ago, but heaven knows how much of that is true.

My boxer, he’s going for the championship and will need a personal bodyguard.

Oh, I mumble. You’re not the boxer.

Be considerate of me, he gripes. I can resist the temptation to take on opponents. But I like it better when my training takes down another great opponent, no matter how self-centered he is.

What? I ask mindlessly while reading over the contract.

It is the usual terms and conditions I agree to before starting a job. But the client is not a big politician.

Well, I am not into sports and would not know too much about them. If my father is willing to spend his precious time training someone, it has the potential for big rewards.

Whoever this man is, my father sees him as a money tree.

No, I decline.

No? he whispers back, shocked.

It’s my week off, I say as if that explains everything.

It should because a week off means no work and no strenuous activities. But my father doesn’t understand, staring at me as if I have grown an extra head.

No? he says as his voice cracks.

Dad, I hiss.

I reach over and jerk his chin back to the road, the scruff on his skin uncomfortable on my fingers.

You must! he shrieks.

I mustn’t. I scoff and slide the document back.

Please, my dear girl, he begs with a dry sob. You must help me. I already told him he would be getting a personal bodyguard to protect him from the fans. He can’t shield himself without getting backlash from the news.

Realistically, I would decline just because of the troublesome media presence alone. Nevertheless, publicity brings in more clients. More clients mean more money, and I can get bigger bonuses.

When money is involved, I have more motivation to put up with spoiled brats.

Most of the politicians I have protected were secret brats behind doors. Anything that did