Under Control

by Zoë Normandie

  Assessing the glasses he’d never seen her wear, Andriy leaned into her, whispering, “Let’s take those off.” He reached up, pulling the dark frames off her nose, and took her clutch to stuff them back in as they approached the table.

  “My fiancée,” Andriy introduced her to the other guests, pulling out her chair for her, “Miss Petrova.”

  As the other guests at their table stood, greeting her like a princess, Andriy handed her clutch off to a man in a suit behind them. Shocked but unable to refuse, Danica obediently took her seat and occupied the position of Andriy’s future wife. As he spoke, it was made clear that everyone believed her to be Petrov’s real daughter—because no one, in the past nine years, had ever spoken her father’s name again since the accident and not since Petrov had banished Ivan’s memory.

  And now she was the lost princess of the Russian mob.

  Looking around, affixing a pleasant smile to her mouth, she realized that she was at one of the tables of honor and surrounded by ultra-rich executives both within Petrov’s organization and key partners. Now she realized the reason why Petrov had wanted her to be there.

  Andriy slipped his hand down her thigh, squeezing her knee with assurance. Something began creeping up her throat, and she was going to cry. It had all been a mistake, and she never should have come.

  Now, their engagement was announced.

  Now, it was official.

  She flitted her gaze around and realized she was well and truly alone. Carrick had left—and it looked like he wasn’t coming back.

  Chapter Twelve

  Danica

  After a painfully fake and stiff dinner, Danica waited until Andriy got up to relieve himself, and she politely excused herself from the rest of the guests to refresh herself. She’d endured enough of Andriy’s hand caressing her shoulders and landing on her thighs. The man treated her like he owned her.

  She made her way to the edge of the reception hall as fast as she could without causing a scene and without Petrov noticing, as he was off in the distance—likely making business deals.

  The first thing on her mind was retrieving her clutch, which she saw was being held by one of the men in suits at the edge of the room. Her second thought was, How the hell am I going to get out of here? Where am I going to go? A rush of emotion overtook her, and she was on the verge of melting down. She didn’t know what upset her more—the thought of being forced to go home with Andriy or the thought of Carrick dancing alone on the patio with that blonde woman.

  Trying to be discreet, Danica found her way to a large floral arrangement decorating the edges of the hall next to the man holding her clutch. She smiled, holding out her hand to ask for it back, trying to be natural. The man nodded, speaking to her in Russian, and handed it over. Letting out a breath of relief, Danica slipped away, moving a little farther down the wall—plotting her next move. Fumbling in her clutch, she noticed that the contents were all intact. Why had they taken it? Danica chewed her lip, her only guess being that Andriy was embarrassed his fiancée would carry such a cheap-looking thing and even more embarrassed that she had taken out her dark-framed glasses.

  Shaking her head, she whipped out her cell and found her roommate Addie’s name, writing her a text.

  I need help. She added a terrified emoji with it. You’re not going to believe this.

  Immediately, Addie wrote back.

  Girl, where are you? What’s going on?

  Like a true sister, her roommate would be there at the drop of a hat if she asked.

  My uncle hired a bodyguard to find me and bring me to my cousin’s wedding. And now I’m here.

  Holy shit. We need to get you out of there.

  I need you to get rid of some of my things. Burn them. I’m not coming home…ever.

  Addie stopped writing, and Danica stared at her screen, waiting.

  Within five seconds, her cell was vibrating. Addie was calling. Danica answered it quickly, leaning back against the wall and keeping her voice down, though it was noisy enough in the hall that she couldn’t be heard.

  “Dani, are you in danger?” Addie’s concerned voice carried through the line, forceful and demanding.

  Danica paused, thinking, and finally confirmed, “Yes.”

  “I’m coming down to get you,” Addie said quickly, and started planning out loud how to evacuate Danica from LA.

  “You can’t, Addie,” Danica pushed back. “I won’t bring you into this.”

  Addie paused, and a confused humming noise hit the line.

  Danica continued, realization flushing over her, “This is something I have to do alone.”

  “You want to keep running?” Addie gasped. “Do you really believe Kosta will let you go?”

  Danica’s face grew hot as she thought of her past. She still didn’t know if her uncle knew what she’d done years ago. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

  She replied, her voice shaking, “I have to keep going. It’s my only chance.”

  Addie’s next question was worse. “Would this bodyguard help you? Can he be on your side?”

  Danica let silence fill the line, the only sound being her breathing.

  “Dani?” Addie pushed for a reply.

  Shaking her head, Danica replied, “I don’t know.”

  Shock flushed over her as she saw Carrick coming in from the patio, looking as calculating as ever. Danica quickly told Addie she had to go, but that she’d call her later. Addie made her promise to text within ten minutes. Her concern was undeniable.

  For good reason.

  Danica’s heart beat out of her chest uncontrollably, watching Carrick in the distance.

  He’s still here.

  He scanned the dinner tables, and Danica knew that he was looking for her. Her. But she didn’t want to face him…or anyone. He wasn’t going to like what she was planning next.

  Shuffling down a hallway adjacent to the reception hall, she heard Andriy’s voice around the corner and panicked. Terrible timing. She immediately opened a door beside her and ducked into a small, dark room. As she tried to breathe, to make sense of it all, tears sprang to her eyes.

  I have to get out of here.

  Clearly, Petrov had strategized this. She had been announced to the entire organization as Andriy’s fiancée at the wedding. There was no backing out now, not without consequences.

  Laying her palms against the cool dark wall for stability, she heard Andriy’s voice getting closer and closer in the hall and fear crept up her throat. That same creeping feeling ran up and down her limbs, and she darted her gaze around for an exit. There was none. She held her breath, praying.

  Oh my God.

  As Andriy’s voice began to get farther and farther away, she exhaled in relief. Now, she had to make a move…no looking back.

  Before she could escape, however, the door cracked open and a tall figure marched into the space. Flinching backward, she heard his angered voice.

  “I told you not to leave my sight,” Carrick growled, stepping into the room, letting the door close behind him. “Why are you in here?”

  He stationed his muscular frame in front of her, and, in the shadows, she could see the intensity of his eyes. He was ferociously angry.

  “I thought you’d left,” she let out. “Where did you go?”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I-I just need air,” she whispered, backing up against the wall and grasping at the drywall behind her. “I couldn’t breathe in there.”

  Carrick landed a strong hand on the drywall beside her head, and he loomed over her, breathing down on her. He obviously didn’t believe her.

  “You are up to something, aren’t you?”

  “Does it matter?” she cried out.

  “It matters to me.”

  “Why do you care?”

  He grabbed her jaw, roughly raising her chin to him. He wanted her to look at him—look him right in the face. Scowling and with his gaze on fire, Carrick dropped his head
the final inches between them and he found her lips.

  He worked her lips open, quick and determined, and danced his tongue in to play with hers. He was sending a message as much as he was tasting her, feeling her for the first time, like she’d always been his. Holding her slender frame in his thick arms, she let herself fall into him, letting herself once again believe that it was real.

  There was a groan in his throat as she let him kiss her. The deeper his kiss, the more she realized how bad she wanted him to do everything to her. He brought her tighter against his hard chest. As he ran his hands farther down her back, the coarseness of his palms filled her with sensation.

  Reveling in the best kiss of her life, she felt his fire, his passion. Moaning and taking his rough handling, Danica experienced deep arousal in her core and a wetness pooling at the entrance to her untouched pussy. He dropped his hand down her throat, holding it firmly like a threat. The way he kissed her was like a promise. He seemingly wasn’t going to rest until he had her complete attention and surrender. He appeared obsessed with her, needed her. And she was surely going to be in a damn lot of trouble if she didn’t start listening to him.

  Maybe he is really someone I can trust? Maybe I should just tell him everything—all my dark secrets?

  He teased a moan from her that seemed to only heighten his response, and he kissed her that much more intensely. Never before had she felt so turned on, so needy for him. He grabbed her waist, holding her tight, her breasts pressed against him as she panted from his kiss. He pulled back just enough to squeeze and tease each one, working his fingers underneath her bra until he felt her nipple.

  His touch was wild and out of control—and she responded in the same way. The roughness of his hands juxtaposed with the softness of his lips made for a delicious mix. Just as he started grinding his body against hers, his arousal seeming to be out of control, she cried out his name.

  Then, as if hearing his name awoke him, he changed. He pulled away fast, and focus came back into his eyes, as though he’d just realized what he had done.

  “Shit.”

  He stepped back from her, releasing her. As she slid down the wall and fought to straighten her clothing, even in the shadows, she could see the regret flashing over his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, causing a deep slice of pain to crack through her chest.

  Then it got worse.

  The door opened—and they were no longer alone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carrick

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Andriy’s voice echoed through the small space as his gaze snapped back and forth between Carrick and Danica.

  Carrick crossed his arms, leaning back, tall and strong, as Andriy became visible in the ambient light permeating from the hallway. Watching the lean Slavic man, Carrick kept his mouth shut, breathing fire as he watched Andriy step into the space.

  “What did he do to you?” Andriy asked her.

  “Nothing.” She flinched, shifting away—and the man’s face twisted in vengeance.

  Andriy knew what had happened. Any man would have.

  Carrick stepped forward, putting his hand out between them.

  “Give her some space.”

  “We don’t require your services anymore.” Andriy scowled as he turned to Carrick, a threat in his voice.

  “Oh, I think you still do.”

  “Leave.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Andriy stepped closer to Danica, and Carrick searched her for a response. Her eyes were wide, and she was out of breath and swallowing anxiously. She was frozen—in the same way she had been at the cocktail table. Andriy reached out to pull her toward him.

  “Get your hands off her,” Carrick roared, landing a hand on the collar of Andriy’s purple suit and pulling him back.

  A deep, vicious growl rose in Carrick’s throat. Every muscle in his body caught on fire, and it took everything in his being not to take the Russian’s life. Andriy pushed back on Carrick, but only sent himself backward—because Carrick hadn’t gotten the name Moose for no reason. He was as tall, strong and sturdy as one. No one pushed him over.

  As Carrick reached out to grab Danica, swinging her around behind him, she protested and cried out for him to stop.

  “Carrick!” Danica called out, pure fear in her voice.

  But he couldn’t.

  He had to protect her from this fucking goon. There was some greater need driving hard inside Carrick, something even he could not deny. And now Carrick stood face to face with Andriy. Carrick widened his frame, protecting Danica, who was now securely behind him.

  “You’re a dead man,” Andriy snarled, straightening his suit from where Carrick’s hands had been.

  “Stay the fuck away from her,” Carrick let out in his darkest, most intimidating voice, “or there’ll be hell to pay.”

  As the last words of his threat fell, Andriy lunged forward to take a swing at Carrick, who caught the punch in his bare hand and threw his own. The only difference was that Carrick’s punch connected hard with rich-boy’s face. Blood splattered from Andriy’s nose against the wall behind him, and he cocked his head back with a vicious, murderous look.

  “Do you have any idea who you are fucking with?” Andriy spat out blood, reaching into his jacket. “She’s mine.”

  Carrick knew exactly what Andriy was reaching for and he rushed him, taking control of the situation. He quickly whipped the man around, disarming him as the pistol from his jacket crashed to the floor. After a brief altercation, Carrick managed to get Andriy on the ground, and, boy, he was surely hurting.

  That was when Carrick knew there was no turning back. He’d made an enemy out of the Russian mafia. In their eyes, he was a dead man walking. And if he didn’t get Danica out of there, someone was going to find them—and he didn’t want to see the extent of the mafia’s firepower or the extent of Andriy’s connections.

  Andriy clearly was rich, powerful and had many friends…very powerful friends. Carrick was just a former Navy SEAL with too much to fight for.

  Carrick grabbed Danica’s hand and rushed her out of the room, pulling her down a deserted hallway, targeting the employee parking lot where they’d stashed the pickup. He had a GPS built into his head and could navigate even the most complicated mazes.

  “What did you do?” Danica cried out behind him, pulling back as he dragged her forward. “Carrick, you have no idea what you’ve done!”

  Making their way out of the building and to the truck, his heart was racing. Dani was breathing heavily, her eyes wide…furious. But he was too.

  In the darkness of the employee parking lot, he pushed her up against the side of the truck, dropping his arms on either side of her to lock her in place. Feeling blood pumping through his veins, he looked down at her alarmed, heated expression.

  “That guy is a fucking asshole.” He growled low, dipping his head to get a good look into her eyes. “He deserved it.”

  “Carrick, I’ve never seen anyone take on Andriy and live,” she cried out desperately. “Never. He’s going to kill you.”

  She held his gaze, and he could see her look of pure fear across her face.

  “I’m not scared of him.”

  “Did Petrov see what happened? He must know. I can’t let this get any worse. I’ve got to do something.” Danica’s lips quivered as she shot a look back toward the clubhouse.

  “You are going to do something,” he snapped.

  “What—?” she exhaled, searching his face.

  “Look… I stood back. I watched.” Carrick leaned in, tightening his hold on her. “I didn’t like what I saw.”

  “What the hell are you suggesting?”

  “You have to fight them. It’s the only way.” Carrick pushed off the truck, bringing her with him.

  “Just…go.” She waved her hand dismissing him, like she expected him to be done.

  “You’re coming with me. I’ve got a lot to teach you.”

  She shook her
head in disbelief, and Carrick could taste the anxiety dripping off her.

  “Why are you still here?” she cried. He didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes.

  The questioned lingered between them, and Carrick knew what was behind it. He’d kissed her, then he’d pulled away. He’d taken and injured her. And now, there was no point in being anything but honest with her.

  “I’m still here because I need to be,” he admitted, his head dropping a little lower. “There’s a freight train coming toward you, Dani—and I can’t sit back and watch it hit.”

  I can’t sit back and watch you die.

  An unspoken fear lingered in his mind as she lifted her chin to his. Carrick wasn’t more than a few inches from her, but he couldn’t—and he shouldn’t. The first time had been a mistake. He wasn’t going to make it again.

  With a deep growl, he reached behind her, opened the passenger door and popped her into her seat. After slamming her door to make sure she was safely inside, he took action. He had to get them off the grid as fast as possible to regroup.

  Jumping into his seat, he started the engine and pulled the truck out of the parking lot. Spinning onto the Pacific Coast Highway headed toward LA, he worked on the plan in his mind. Within minutes, Petrov was going to know what’d happened, if he didn’t already—and he’d know Carrick had gone rogue. He’d just made himself an enemy.

  As he ruminated, he caught Danica pulling out her phone, checking her messages.

  “Now is not the time,” Carrick ordered her, twisting in his seat to get a view.

  She flickered her gaze to him. “Controlling much?”

  “Who the hell are you talking to?” he demanded.

  “That’s your business, my lord?”

  “You want to find yourself another ride?” he snarled, against his better judgment. But, before he could say anything else, she exhaled.

  “My roommate is asking if I am alive,” she confessed. “If I’m going to be okay.”