Russian Mobster’s Blackmailed Bride

by Bella Rose

  He noticed that the blonde he had seen earlier with his redheaded spitfire was looking positively sick. The two young women embraced. The redhead whispered something in her friend’s ear. The girl nodded. An agreement perhaps? What were they saying? And why was Anatoly so obsessed with finding out? It could hardly affect him. He could do what he wished. The Moscow police would never deny him.

  TRISHA HAD NEVER been so scared in her entire life. What was this man playing at? If he had video footage of the cheating incident, then he knew good and well that Trisha wasn’t responsible. Why would he lie? And wasn’t this illegal? She had already asked Minka to contact the American Embassy. If she were lucky, a whole platoon of Marines would storm this place and whisk Trisha away to safety. For now, though, she had to tread carefully.

  The double doors snicked shut. The sound was soft, and yet the meaning was ominous. Trisha was alone with this man who exuded a ruthless sort of power she could not begin to challenge.

  “Now.” Anatoly Zaretsky turned to face her with a cold smile. “Shall we chat?”

  “I’m an American citizen,” she said stiffly. “I have rights.”

  Trisha felt horribly exposed standing in the center of the room before Anatoly’s desk. It hadn’t been so bad when she was in a group. But now she felt vulnerable and more than a little twitchy. She had barely glanced over all the legal stuff about her study abroad program. Of course there had been pamphlets and webpages dedicated to the rights of an American citizen on Russian soil. Trisha just didn’t remember much of it. Therefore she had one option. Bluff.

  “Ah yes, my American citizen.” There was no doubt that Anatoly was mocking her. He raised his eyebrows, and the corner of his mouth twisted up into a sneer. “What rights do you believe you have here in my casino? Especially when I have caught you cheating?”

  “I have a right to contact my embassy. You can’t hold me here against my will. You have to turn me over to the police.”

  “No.” He gave a tiny shake of his head. “I do not.”

  This man mesmerized Trisha. She could not look away as he sauntered toward his desk and flopped into his chair. He looked like a lazy Roman statesman. He picked up a pen and began tapping it on the desk. The sound was driving her daft. Finally he stopped and she was able to focus.

  He cocked his head and waved toward the doorway. “The Russian police are my—how do you say this in America—they are my bitches. They do what I want. I am the law here in Moscow when I choose to be.”

  “That’s despicable,” she whispered. “You’re doing this on purpose then. You know I didn’t do anything. You’re just holding this over me? For what purpose? Why would you do that?”

  He looked briefly taken aback. “Because I can.” He gave a little nod of his head, his dark hair looking sexy and tousled as though he’d just gotten out of bed.

  Trisha castigated herself for thinking such a thing. Why would she care what Anatoly Zaretsky looked like when he got out of bed? She hated this man! He was a complete jerk!

  She took a deep breath. Be calm and rational. “Mr. Zaretsky, I don’t know what I’ve done to earn your animosity, but please be assured that it was unconsciously done. I have a flight out of Moscow tomorrow, and I really need to be on it.”

  FOR SOME REASON, the very idea of Trisha leaving Moscow the following day was completely unacceptable to Anatoly. He could not decide what bothered him so much. It wasn’t as if he knew Trisha at all. She was beautiful in a very unique way. That was true. Yet he could have propositioned her for the night and been done with it. Still, he could not imagine a woman like Trisha giving in to such an incentive. Therefore, he needed to up the stakes a little. Once he figured her out, he would get over this strange infatuation.

  “You will be held here,” he announced.

  She gaped. “Excuse me?”

  “I spoke in English. Is there some other language you prefer to use?” He knew he was being arrogant, but he couldn’t resist jabbing her a little just to see how she would react. Her mind fascinated him.

  “Oh, I heard you. And I well understood what you said.” She put her hand on her hip and glared at him. “I just cannot imagine how you think it’s alright to hold a woman against her will because you’re power tripping like some two-bit gangsta!”

  This time Anatoly could not hold back the laughter. He busted out into a belly laugh that echoed off the walls of his office and brought two enforcers charging through his door on high alert. He waved at his men. They looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had. He was still having trouble containing himself.

  “You think that’s funny?” Trisha demanded. “I’m being perfectly serious! You’re power tripping! It’s not right. You can’t hold me here.”

  “Watch me,” Anatoly said with a careless snort. “You will remain here in my custody for a week to pay for your crime.”

  “To pay for my—” She looked horrified. “For the love of God! Have you lost your senses? My parents will be frantic!”

  “No.” Anatoly shrugged. “They will get a call from the Moscow police telling them that you were caught cheating in a mafia run casino. That will be explanation enough.”

  She snorted. “My dad is going to tear your arms off.”

  Anatoly had to admit that if Trisha’s bravado was any indicator, her father was probably a force to be reckoned with. Still, he didn’t care. Her father was a million miles and an ocean away. Trisha was right here and now in his office.

  “I will have someone show you to your accommodations.” Anatoly stood up, not even bothering to say another word before he left his office.

  He stopped in the hallway outside. “There is a woman inside,” he told Yakov. “Place her under lock and key in one of my guest suites.”

  “Sir?” Yakov could not hide his surprise.

  Anatoly curled his lip, showing his men he meant to have his way. “Just do it.”

  There were no more arguments, and Anatoly was glad. He didn’t exactly have a sensible reason for his current set of choices. But he would come up with one soon enough, and that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Three

  “You can’t hold me here!” Trisha shouted, banging on the door with each syllable to emphasize her ire. “You Russian mafia assholes can go to hell for all I care!”

  Of course there was zero response from the twin beefcakes who had shoved her into this palatial prison cell. What in the hell was going on? It was like something out of a bad Lifetime movie.

  She turned away from the door, breathing deeply to try and calm her anger. It wouldn’t do her any good to completely lose her mind. She needed to stay calm, rational, and sharp. At some point this Anatoly guy would make a mistake, and she would be waiting. She would run and find the American Embassy. Then she would go home. She hadn’t done anything. There was no way Anatoly could prove she had.

  Pivoting in a slow circle at the center of the room, Trisha tried to take it all in. She’d never seen anything like this bedroom except in movies. There were lofty, twenty-plus-foot coffered ceilings inlaid with azure and gold. The flooring was plush carpeting so thick it felt like walking on a cloud. The bed had actual draperies tied on all four sides of the elegant four poster. Through a doorway she could see a bathroom that looked equally palatial. It was like being locked in a princess’s tower. It might be beautiful, but that didn’t make it any less of a prison.

  Trisha brushed her fingers over the pristine surface of a little writing table. Why did Anatoly even have a room like this? Was it normal for him to take a female hostage every once in awhile? The one thing she hadn’t yet thought about was the possibility that he was going to force himself on her. Or that he would try.

  “Like I’m going to lie down and just let that happen!” she snorted.

  Of course, her traitorous body might allow it without her say so. No matter how much she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t manage to stop being attracted to the bastard.

  There was a knock on
the door.

  She spun around and reached for something—anything—that she could use like a weapon. In the end, there was nothing. She had to settle for pulling out the chair from beneath the writing desk and keeping it as a visible barrier between her and the door.

  Anatoly stuck his head inside the suite. The smile on his face made it seem like nothing else had happened. It was both eerie and irritating. “Do you have everything you need? This room is quite comfortable, I hope.”

  “Are you off your meds?” Trisha snarled. “I’m being held prisoner and you ask me if I have everything I need?”

  “I’m merely trying to be polite.” He had the nerve to sound miffed. “There’s no need to be rude.”

  ANATOLY WATCHED THE indecision flutter across Trisha’s pretty features. Her cheeks were bright pink with ire. She looked even more attractive when she was all riled up, if that were possible. Still, he was playing a specific game with her at the moment.

  “Rude,” she said slowly. “You’re accusing me of being rude when you’ve locked me up with no cause?”

  “You’re getting another week’s stay in Moscow for free,” he said airily. “I’m sure this place is much nicer than your hotel.” She didn’t argue. He considered that a start. “So how about you calm down and appreciate this little vacation?”

  “Fine. If it’s a vacation, let me call my family.”

  “I don’t think that would be a very good move on my part.” Her tenacity was admirable. He just needed her to understand that it was also futile.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked casually. “I usually eat around this time. Would you like to join me on the terrace for a meal?”

  “Eat with you just like we were friends having dinner together?” She was gripping the back of the chair that sat in front of her. Her knuckles were white with the sheer force she was applying. “What would possess me to do that?”

  Anatoly gave a deliberately nonchalant shrug. He considered her a wild animal at this point, and he was very much looking forward to the taming. “Like most humans, you need to eat. I am also human. Therefore it makes sense that we eat together, does it not? If you like, I will have a tray brought to your room. But the view from my balcony terrace is very pretty at night. You might enjoy seeing it.”

  He could tell that he had struck a chord. Like most wild animals, Trisha longed for the outdoors and the scent and taste of freedom. Even if it were only for a few minutes, she wasn’t going to refuse him.

  “Fine.” She pursed her lips and shot him a hot glare of dislike. “But this does not change the fact that I want you dead.”

  “Of course.” He didn’t take the threat seriously.

  Anatoly had no doubt that if push came to shove, Trisha could defend herself quite well. But her manner was all wrong. Anatoly had plenty of experience with violence. Burgeoning violence had an almost sinister feel to it. Trisha was experiencing impotent anger. That was not the same thing.

  “Very well.” Anatoly opened the door. “Please join me on the terrace, Ms. Trisha.”

  “Copeland,” she said quietly. “Ms. Copeland.”

  “Trisha Copeland,” Anatoly repeated. “I like it.”

  She made a very unladylike noise that reminded Anatoly of a pig grunting as it rolled in the mud. “Like I care what you think of my name.”

  TRISHA KNEW SHE was making a bad decision, but she was starving and tired of being in this damn room. She followed Anatoly out into the hallway. They passed the two beefcakes, and she resisted the urge to flip them off. Realistically they were just doing their jobs. They had picked crappy careers, of course, but that wasn’t Trisha’s problem.

  When Trisha had first been led into what amounted to a penthouse apartment on the top floor of the hotel, she hadn’t paid too much attention to her surroundings. She had been with her friends. They had huddled together and moved into Anatoly’s office from the front door without seeing much of anything.

  Now she realized that her suite was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the richness of this place. Stopping just inside the living area, she turned a full circle to get the complete effect.

  “You are impressed by my home?”

  The half smug, half curious tone in Anatoly’s voice made Trisha stiffen. It wasn’t as if she could hide her response anyway, but she hated feeding his ego. “It’s nice. I think you might be trying too hard, but what do I know?”

  “Trying too hard?” He pursed his lips and made a gesture with his hand to invite her to explain.

  Trisha gazed at the skylights, recessed lighting in the vaulted ceilings, rich Persian rugs, and the monstrous glass fireplace. “It’s like you’ve purposely made this place fancy enough that anyone who walks in will be impressed with your wealth.”

  “Isn’t that what wealthy people do?” He didn’t sound proud this time. He sounded as though he honestly believed what he said to be true.

  She lowered her gaze from the details of the cavernous room to the man who stood inside it. He was sexy, powerful, and commanding in a way that could either intimidate or impress depending upon his mood and intention. Why did he care about all this posturing? Exhaling slowly, she tried and failed not to be curious about his origins and motivations. The truth was that Anatoly Zaretsky fascinated her on a dangerous level.

  “Well?” he prodded.

  She chose her words carefully. “In my experience, those who are the wealthiest and are secure in that wealth don’t need to show off. They simply live their lives to their own level of comfort and to hell with what anyone else might think.”

  Anatoly threw his head back and laughed once again. It was disconcerting at best. Why she made the man laugh was beyond her. But instead of feeling as though he were mocking her, she got the feeling that he relished the humor he found in what she said. It was oddly flattering to be able to make such a man laugh.

  Oh yes, she was in big trouble.

  Trisha walked past the living room and into the kitchen. It was large, with a center island and gourmet appliances that would have made her mother moan with envy. Once again, though, she got the feeling that it was more for show. What was the real Anatoly like?

  “Come,” he said. “Dinner awaits us on the terrace.”

  ANATOLY WATCHED TRISHA’S progress through his penthouse and wondered at the strange feeling of satisfaction it gave him to have this woman in his personal space. He could feel her presence behind him. Her well fitting black dress accented every curve in her athletic body. He doubted she even realized how sensual she was when she moved. The sheer grace of her walk put an unconscious sway in her hip motion, making Anatoly’s libido rise to the occasion.

  But that was not what he needed to be thinking about right now.

  He opened the sliding glass doors to the terrace. “Please, join me.”

  The table had been set for two with a pristine white cloth, candles, and fine china. He’d had the hotel restaurant cater up a seafood dinner of braised salmon. The dishes were displayed on a silver cart beside the table, and there was a uniformed waiter standing by to serve them. It was exactly as he’d ordered.

  Trisha chose a chair. Before she could sit, he swept it out and seated her with very little fuss. Then he took the seat adjoining her at the table. Even being across from her was too much distance. Despite the delectable aroma of the food, he could smell the light feminine fragrance that seemed to be her natural perfume. Truly, this woman was a mystery he wanted to unravel.

  “Of course, you would have dined like this by yourself if I had refused your invitation, right?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Of course.” Not! But she did not need to think about that. Anatoly had planned this evening to seduce, and there was no place for her doubts in his plan.

  “Wine?” he asked, lifting the bottle.

  She put a hand over her wineglass. “I think I’ll stick with water. It pays to remain clear headed when camping with the enemy.”

  “As you say.” He shrugged and poured hims
elf a glass.

  One nod and the waiter placed their salads before them. Anatoly watched her pick up a fork and dig in without reservation. His anxiety began to recede.

  “Tell me about yourself, Trisha Copeland,” he coaxed.

  “Me?” She swallowed her bite of salad and gazed up at the soft night sky above the terrace. “You act as if this is some sort of date.”

  “Perhaps it is,” he suggested, just to see what she would say.

  She took a few more bites of salad, obviously in no hurry to answer. Anatoly found himself struggling to be patient. He ate a few bites himself just to give his mouth something to do.

  “I’m from Cleveland, Ohio.” She rolled one shoulder, the scoop neck of her dress giving him a plain view of her delicate collarbone. “I’m not sure there’s much more to say.”

  Anatoly hid a smile behind the rim of his wineglass. Trisha might not think there was more, but he fervently disagreed.

  Chapter Four

  Trisha felt the cool night breeze on her warm cheeks and wondered when this situation had gotten so entirely out of hand. It was time to be completely honest with herself. She was out on a date with a Russian mobster who was holding her hostage on some bogus charge of cheating his casino. The idea was ludicrous, and yet here she was laughing and enjoying herself over the best tiramisu she had ever tasted.

  “Isn’t tiramisu Italian?” she teased. “What? Aren’t Russian desserts good enough for you?”

  Anatoly laughed. A few glasses of wine had loosened him up a little. At least, that was Trisha’s perception. He didn’t seem to be pushing any agenda anymore. He was just enjoying himself. The result was devastating. His dark eyes gleamed and sparkled with mischief, and the hard planes of his face relaxed into something even more enticing.

  “Ah,” he said in an almost musical voice. “We have many wonderful desserts and sweets native to this country. But I will always have a soft spot for certain things. This is why I brought in a cook from France and one from Italy to work in my hotel.”