Russian Mobster’s Blackmailed Bride

by Bella Rose

  She placed her pale delicate hand on the paper and shoved it right back at him. “That is insulting! How dare you make me such an offer?”

  “If that’s unsatisfactory, then we have nothing left to discuss.” Anatoly straightened his lapels and then his cuffs. He felt rather satisfied. “I will not negotiate this number.”

  The look of defeat on Motya’s face bothered Anatoly for some reason. He squashed down the resulting sense of unease and put a lid on it. He had no time for such things. He needed to call Frederick and find out what was taking so long.

  “If you’ll excuse me?” Anatoly dipped his head to a gaping Bianka and her father before leaving his office.

  Chapter Nine

  Trisha bit down as hard as she could, feeling the muscle in her captor’s arm flinch beneath her assault. The bigger man cursed and snatched his hand away, which gave Trisha a chance to twist her entire body and kick out with both feet.

  “Why are you doing this?” she panted. “Leave me alone! Just go!”

  The big man reached for her again. “You have to come with us.”

  “Did we know this was going to be such a pain in the ass?” the skinnier man asked. “I thought she was eager to go home.”

  A thought occurred to Trisha as the men attempted to drag her down the stairs to the bottom level of the dormitory. She wrapped her arms around the railing and refused to budge. “Were you guys hired by Americans to do this?”

  “Your parents hired us!” The big man was busy trying to pry her fingers off the ancient metal railing.

  “Stop!” Trisha shoved his hand away. “Just stop!”

  The whole scene seemed to freeze for a moment. Thankfully the men stopped trying to pick her up and drag her down the stairs.

  She took a few deep breaths and tried to find her equilibrium. Last night she’d had an opportunity to flee right in front of her. Understanding Anatoly a little better, she could say with an almost implacable sense of certainty that Anatoly would have never let her actually leave. However, the option had been presented, and she hadn’t taken it.

  Now she was presented with an even easier solution to her “problem.” “My father hired you guys to bring me home. I don’t even have to do anything. You’ll just pack me up and ship me home. No choices, no decisions to be made, I’ll just get with the program in the same way I’ve been doing for the last several decades.”

  The men glanced at each other. Then the skinny one cleared his throat. “That’s right, ma’am. We’re ex pats. We belong to a worldwide network of men and women that work to send Americans home when they’ve been taken hostage, captive, or sucked into some foreign bullshit they know nothing about.”

  “Like the Russian mafia,” she supplied.

  Skinny Guy nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Normally we like to negotiate with money or favors,” the bigger man offered. “And we usually use the local law enforcement to help. But you’re being held by Anatoly Zaretsky. None of that matters here in Moscow. Zaretsky runs the city.”

  “I know.” And she did know. Or rather, she had guessed as much over the last twenty-four hours. “My life at home is really boring and sheltered, you know?”

  They looked confused. She supposed it wouldn’t make much sense to most people that this recent deviation to life with a Russian mafia king seemed like an improvement to a girl from Cleveland who was in her late twenties and had to lobby her father just to borrow the car to go to the mall by herself. She had had dozens of first dates in the last ten years. Her father chased them all away. He had a list of potential husbands a mile long, each one vetted by him, and to a man they were cops he felt would make an appropriate mate for his only child.

  Trisha disagreed.

  “It’s time to go, Trisha,” the bigger man urged.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Go home and tell my father that I want to stay. I’m with Anatoly of my own free will.” Trisha chuckled. “Tell Dad that I am finally making a choice without anyone telling me what to do. Or rather, I suppose everyone is telling me to do something and I’m deciding something for myself. Dad will get it. He won’t like it, but he’ll get it.”

  The two men shared a long look of what appeared to be shock. Then Skinny Guy cleared his throat. “Trisha, I’m not sure you understand what you’re doing.”

  “Anatoly is a monster, right?” she said. “I’ve noticed he has some personality flaws that are sort of pervasive, but you’re wrong. He’s not a monster.”

  The big man shook his head. “You don’t know what he’s done.”

  “My dad is a cop.” She thought about some of the stories her father had told over the years. “He’s not exactly a Boy Scout either, you know. People do the things they do for a variety of reasons. Not all of those choices are good, but in the moment they probably seemed like the right thing to do.” Trisha glanced up at the wall clock hanging in the hallway. “You guys had better run. Really. If Anatoly comes looking, I’m not exactly certain how much influence I have.”

  “You really won’t come with us?” Skinny Guy looked mystified.

  Trisha shook her head. “No. And for future reference, just tell people what you’re up to right away instead of going for the whole abduction scenario. You’ll save yourself a whole lot of trouble that way.”

  ANATOLY ATTEMPTED TO wrap his mind around what he was seeing and hearing. With an opportunity to escape sitting right in front of her, Trisha had decided not to take it? What sort of insanity was this?

  He pressed his back to the wall beside the narrow back stairs. After Frederick had told him how long he’d been waiting for Trisha to reappear with her belongings, Anatoly had assumed the worst. Here he had been expecting her to run at every opportunity. He was holding her hostage, after all. Running would be the natural response, would it not?

  Now he could see that she had been otherwise occupied for a good reason. Her father had sent a team of ex pats to reacquire his daughter. Not that Anatoly blamed the man. Trisha was a prize to be protected at all costs. She just happened to be a prize that Anatoly was now claiming for himself.

  “Trisha,” Anatoly said, slipping around the corner and sauntering down the hallway. “Go back downstairs and get in the car with Frederick please?”

  She whipped around as though she were shocked to see him. He’d wondered at one point if she suspected she was being watched and that was why she had declined the escape. Now he knew better. For some reason—which he was going to figure out—she had decided to stay in captivity.

  “Anatoly,” she said tightly. “Please don’t hurt these men. They were only doing the job they were hired to do.”

  “I know this.” He still wasn’t used to this concept of someone freely voicing her opinion, much less asking him to do things or respond in a certain way. It was disconcerting, mostly because he did not feel pressured by her. The pressure was an internal thing. He wanted to please her. How odd.

  “Thank you, Anatoly.” Trisha gave him a smile that made him feel as though the sun had come out. Then she turned and walked away. He heard her on the steps, and then the exterior door of the building slammed shut.

  Now he turned his attention to the two men standing before him. They didn’t look afraid, which was to their credit. In fact, they looked like men facing a snake, knowing that their foe was completely unpredictable, and waiting to see how things would turn out before deciding on a course of action.

  “Her father sent you,” Anatoly said silkily. “Is that what I am to understand?”

  “Yes.” The larger man nodded.

  “You do this for a living?”

  The man offered a half shrug. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “You will give Mr. Jonathan Copeland a message for me,” Anatoly announced.

  The big man’s eyebrows went up. His shock was obvious. “And the message?”

  “His daughter belongs to me now.” Anatoly felt a deep jolt of satisfaction at those words. “You have heard it from her own lips. It is t
rue. Trisha Copeland is mine and will remain with me until I have no further use for her.”

  The skinnier man actually started to lunge at Anatoly. His companion threw out an arm to prevent him. The bigger man cleared his throat. “Have you actually met Jonathan Copeland?”

  “No.”

  Now there was an actual smile of amusement on the big man’s lips. “Then I’ll give him the message that his daughter asked me to deliver along with yours and let him decide how he wants to proceed.”

  Anatoly had a moment’s misgiving about the strange smile. Was the man actually satisfied by this outcome? He had failed in his duty, had he not? Why would that satisfy him? The puzzle did not sit well with Anatoly. “Why is this funny?” he demanded.

  “You’re pretty hot stuff here in Moscow,” the big man said evenly. “We all know that. So you can make an asinine decree like the one you just delivered.”

  “Asinine?” Anatoly didn’t appreciate that. “How?”

  The man waved his hand. “Oh, she’s yours until you’re done with her. How do you think her father will like that one? His daughter apparently believes you’re a better person than the rest of the world is inclined to give you credit for. She sat here and told us you’re not the monster we all think you are.”

  Now it was the skinny man’s turn to speak. “So even though we all know that you would shoot her in the head to save yourself, she’s willing to turn her back on her family and her regular life because she sees something in you that the rest of the world does not.”

  Anatoly felt oddly flattered by this knowledge. However, it also made him uncomfortable. Had he somehow misrepresented himself to Trisha? Surely not. He was the man he was. It wasn’t as if he tried to be someone else. He had taken her captive against her will after fabricating false charges against her for cheating in his casino. There was no element of hiding in that scenario.

  The big man turned to walk away. “Best of luck to you, Mr. Zaretsky.”

  “I’m sorry,” Anatoly snapped. “Did I give you permission to leave?”

  “We’ve stayed too long already,” the big man said with amusement. “And it wouldn’t do you much good to shoot the messenger, would it?”

  Anatoly watched the two men leave and felt even more confused and off balance than he had while standing in the stairwell only a few moments ago. What was it with Trisha? She could never behave the way he expected. People were self-serving. It was the one consistent thing in his life. Or it had been consistent until he had met Trisha.

  Chapter Ten

  Trisha sat primly in her seat in the back of the limo. She was worried for those men. What if Anatoly got angry with them? It wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of the sort of violence he was capable of. She just believed he was capable of controlling that urge in order to be compassionate or even merciful.

  The back door swung open, and Anatoly slid into the car. “Frederick, drive us home please?”

  “What about my things?”

  “I’ve put them in the trunk.” He cocked his head at her. “Did you think I would forget after all of the trouble we’ve gone to in order to retrieve your luggage?”

  “No.” She felt her cheeks blush red hot. “I guess I just didn’t realize how distracted I was. I didn’t see or hear you put anything in the trunk.”

  “So.”

  Anatoly’s tone suggested he was done talking about the incident in the dormitory. Damn. Trisha wanted to know if the men were okay. She’d asked them to give her father a message. What if they couldn’t do it? Trisha needed to speak to her father, or he would just keep sending people to bring her home.

  Of course her host was completely oblivious to this need. “You have expressed an interest in seeing other parts of the continent. Would you like to go to one of my resorts in Siberia?”

  “Like for a vacation?” The issues with her father were momentarily forgotten. “Yes! That would be amazing!”

  He tilted his head, a lock of dark hair sliding across his forehead and giving him an almost boyish appearance. “You make it sound as though you have never gone on vacation.”

  “Oh, not since I was little,” she said dismissively. “My parents took me on the obligatory trip to Disney World when I was seven. My father doesn’t believe in travel or vacation. He likes to say that vacation time is better spent relaxing at home.”

  “I would disagree.” Anatoly’s tone suggested that was his pronouncement and there was no other opinion on the topic worth discussing. “So we will go to Siberia.”

  “When?”

  He smiled, and she felt her belly knot with excitement. “I believe now is as good a time as any. Don’t you?” He gestured toward the trunk of the car. “We have your luggage all ready to go.” He pushed a button, and the glass went down between the front and the back of the car. “Frederick, take us to the train station please.”

  “A train?” She could not even attempt to contain her excitement. “Are we actually taking the Trans-Siberian Express?”

  “Of course. I have my own car.”

  Trisha snorted. “Of course you do.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you’re a man of means and influence, so why wouldn’t you have your own train car, unlike us mere mortals who ride in coach like normal people.”

  “You’re not normal people.” He seemed a little stiff. Had she offended him? “You’re with me. Therefore you’re at the top of every list.”

  “Thank you.” She decided to quit teasing him, or whatever it was that she was doing, and just appreciate what he was doing. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I suppose I’m just not used to feeling as though people cater to me.”

  “Perhaps you should get used to it. While you are with me, that is how things will go.”

  He reached across the seat and took her hand. Trisha swallowed, feeling the thrum of nervous excitement in her veins. Anatoly turned her hand palm up and traced the lines with his fingertips. In spite of everything that was happening, she felt a corresponding pull begin just below her belly. It felt so good to be touched by him. The electricity between them seemed to be ever present.

  Her mind called up images of the night before. She remembered his hands on her bare thighs and the way it had felt when he’d pressed inside her body. A damp ache began to build between her legs. She squirmed a little on the seat. It was almost uncomfortable to sit there and not move. Still he gently rubbed her palm. Then his fingers slid down over her wrist and up her arm. He touched the tender skin on the inside of her elbow.

  His gaze was overwhelming. The dark depths of his eyes seemed to stare past her skin and into the core of her soul. She wondered what he would see there. Would he be able to tell that she was quickly getting in much deeper than was wise where he was concerned? Would it be obvious to him that he had an incredible amount of power over her?

  “Does this feel good?” he whispered.

  She swallowed and finally managed to speak. “Yes. It feels very good.”

  “Shall I continue?”

  “That depends,” she teased. “What do you mean by continue?”

  The car pulled up to the curb in front of the enormous railway station in Moscow. Anatoly opened the door and slid out of the car. “I suppose I meant that we will continue this discussion in the rail car.”

  “I see.” She slid out of the car, feeling almost lightheaded. “And where is this conversation going?”

  “Siberia, of course.” He tapped the end of her nose, obviously enjoying their little verbal sparring match.

  “And if I choose to ride with the other passengers so that I can have the full Trans-Siberian experience? What will you say?” She hadn’t actually considered that possibility until that very moment, but now that she’d said it, she wondered how he would respond.

  He frowned, the expression making him look almost mean. “There are no seats on the other cars.”

  “Is that right?”

  “No. There is only room for
you beside me.”

  Trisha suspected that Anatoly himself did not fully understand what it was he was saying.

  She was in very big trouble and getting in worse with each passing second.

  THE SCENERY WHIPPED by outside the train car’s window. Inside, Anatoly lounged on a settee with a cocktail in hand and a beautiful woman for a companion. He might have said it was just like any other weekend, except the woman was Trisha and his primary goal had nothing to do with getting under her skirt. Well—that might have been part of his goal, but it encompassed much more than just a desire to see her naked again.

  “Do you always travel like this?” Trisha asked.

  Anatoly had been watching her explore their accommodations for going on twenty minutes now. “You’ve probably given this car a more thorough examination than I did when it was delivered to me.”

  “Seriously?” She turned around and flashed him a quick smile before shaking her head in obvious consternation. “You rich people never pay much attention to what you purchase. You just fork over a huge amount of money and assume you’re getting what you pay for.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  She snorted. “I would.”

  “So what is your assessment then?” he prodded, curious to know her thoughts.

  She turned a slow circle in the center of the car. “The construction seems to be good. I would say airtight with good soundproofing since you don’t hear much in the way of noise from the air rushing by. Although, you don’t hear much from the appliances going in here, either.”

  “And the furnishings?” He raised his glass to her before taking a drink.

  “The bar is nice. It’s obviously well stocked. I’m guessing those couches over there convert to beds of some sort.” She gestured to the far end of the car.

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Would you like to find out?”

  “Gee, let me think, having sex in the middle of the day on a speeding train where anyone could walk in or take a peek through the windows. No thanks!” She actually laughed at the idea. “You’re cute, though. I’ll give you that.”