by Monica James
“What did you say?”
When she squirms, my patience has run out, so I cup her chin, forcing her head backward. She is fucking terrified, and I’m scaring her. But I can’t stop. Her fear feeds me, and I want more.
“Serg who?” I snarl, locking our eyes to ensure she knows I’m done playing.
I don’t know what it is, but she must be able to read the sudden seriousness to my question because the fight in her dies. Her heaving chest is pressed to mine as she exclaims, “Serg.” She wheezes. “The fucking king of this town! Serg Ivanov! But I showed him. I showed him,” she repeats, but all I can hear on repeat is my half-brother’s name.
I thought Serg and Zoya were tipped off, but it seems I was wrong. This woman is the reason my family fled into the dead of night, terrified and I need to know why. She has suddenly become more valuable than I ever imagined.
And she realizes it too.
“No,” she begs, peering up at me, petrified. “I made a mistake. I-I don’t know you.”
But it’s too late.
However, her admission has me faltering for a mere second, which is all she needs. Somehow, she maneuvers her small body and draws her knee upward. I instantly see stars.
A winded breath leaves me as I try to breathe past the pain of being kneed in the groin. She takes this opportunity to shove me off her and jump up. She takes off into a dead sprint—again.
Even though my body protests in utter pain, I come to an unsteady stand and begin to stumble after her. She has a head start, and I’m injured, but I persevere. She cannot get away.
She turns over her shoulder, terrified when she sees me following. Her inattention is now her error because before I have a chance to warn her, she slams straight into a tree, knocking herself unconscious.
Hobbling toward her twisted body lying in a heap on the ground, I sigh, ashamed of my brutal ways. Maybe I’m not a heartless bastard after all? But when I formulate what I have planned for her, I realize that no, I’m not—I’m worse.
“I’m sorry.”
Dropping to a squat, I lift her into my arms. I brush the hair from her sweaty cheeks, not proud of my actions. Once this is over with, I’ll go to church and ask for absolution, but there aren’t enough Hail Marys to save my soul.
This is far from my finest hour.
I promised I wouldn’t hold another person hostage, but that oath got shot to hell the moment I put an unconscious woman into my SUV, drove her to my home, and tied her to my bed.
There wasn’t another option, I reason with myself. She has information I need, and she was hysterical, so I had to subdue her. This newfound morality is nothing but a nuisance, and I much preferred it when I didn’t feel. I can deal with my scruples later because when the woman begins to stir, I sit forward, anxious for her to finally wake.
I’m sitting at the foot of the bed with intent. Like a king takes his place at the head of a table, I want to set the same precedence for my mystery woman. She didn’t cower when most would have, which shows me she is spirited and won’t break easily.
The challenge has me reaching for my scotch and sipping it leisurely.
When her eyes flutter open, she slowly takes in her surroundings. Confusion turns to fear and then to anger when her gaze falls on me. I simply lean back in my armchair, ankle crossed over my knee as I savor my drink.
She looks overhead at the rope restraining her wrists, tugging fruitlessly. “Untie me,” she hoarsely demands.
In response, I swirl the scotch around in my glass, ignoring her.
I hear her wet her lips because I know she is parched, which is why I’ve decided to taunt her with something she can have, if she gives me what I want. This doesn’t have to be difficult. I’d much prefer if it weren’t.
But when a sardonic cackle fills the room, I realize there is only one way this is headed.
“Oh, wow. This is where you live? Now I understand why you’re the joke of this town.”
Every part of me demands I punish her for her insolence, but I keep my cool.
Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a slow sip, watching her over the rim. She lifts her neck, watching me closely. She was expecting a heated response, which is why she gets nothing in return.
She knows a lot about me, which is good. It means she’s very valuable to me. “Would you like to shower? Maybe something to eat? Drink?”
The surprise is clear on her face. She just insulted me, and in return, I’ve offered hospitality. But this is all a part of the game. No question, Serg kept her locked up like some animal, hoping to break her this way. But she is someone who doesn’t respond to such threats.
She has balls.
There are many ways to break a person. Serg clearly failed. But it’ll be different with me.
“No, thank you,” she snarls, eyeing me something wicked.
“Suit yourself,” I reply with a carefree shrug as I toss back the remaining scotch. Coming to a stand, I stretch my arms overhead, something else I have deprived her of.
“Where are you going?” she demands when I turn my back, making it clear I won’t tolerate her contempt. “You can’t keep me tied to this bed.”
With a grin, I spin around leisurely and commence a slow swagger toward her. She doesn’t back down. Yes, I know she has nowhere to go as she’s tied to the bed, but she doesn’t cower. She keeps my gaze, daring my next move.
Seeing her bound, challenging me, stirs something riotous inside me. I can’t help but compare her looks and her attitude to Willow. I know I shouldn’t, but the similarities are uncanny.
Coming to stop by the bedside, I peer down at her blankly. She speaks to me this way because she isn’t afraid of me. That needs to change.
“I can do what I want, малышка. I’m not the one tied to that bed, am I?” When she clenches her jaw, I continue. “So, how about we start again? I’m Aleksei Popov.” I extend my hand, but retract it with a sarcastic smirk. “And you are?”
The room is heavy with hostility. If she were free, I have no doubt she’d tear me limb from limb. However, she must be able to read my resolve because she does something wonderful—she submits.
“Renata Myers. I don’t want to play twenty questions,” she says, deciding to reveal why she’s here in hopes this will be over with quickly. “I was backpacking around Europe with friends. We weren’t supposed to come to Russia, but my friends insisted we visited The Red Square. They said it would be fun and that I would love it here. But they aren’t the ones tied to this fucking bed, are they?” She tugs at the restraints, angered.
“I met Serg in a bar. I was drunk and fell for his charms.”
It’s a hard pill to swallow as this story is reflective of how I lured Zoey into my web. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree it seems. But I am nothing like that piece of shit. I’m not.
“He bought me a drink, and the next thing I knew, I was chained to a radiator in some shithole.”
“What did he want with you?” I ask. It may seem like a foolish question, but I don’t think he wanted a sex slave.
She blows strands of matted hair from her cheeks. “He said he wanted an”—she wets her lips, appearing to weigh up her next words—“дорогая of his own.”
A hiss escapes me because I was not expecting this response.
Her pronunciation is awful, but I know what she’s trying to say.
That son of a bitch. He loathes me, yet he wants to be me. No wonder he chose Renata. Her similarities to Willow are no coincidence. The fact disgusts me for so many different reasons.
“So he spoke of me?” I ask, focusing on what’s important. I need to know everything. She is the closest thing I have to Serg.
She scoffs. “Spoke of you? That’s all I heard. How you were nothing. How he was now king because he burned your empire to the ground. And how you were going to pay for killing his father.”
Clenching my fists, I will myself to calm down because I need Renata on my side. “How long did he hold
you hostage?”
She averts her eyes, as if embarrassed to reveal the truth. I realize that’s because she sees her trust in him as nothing but stupidity on her part. She is incredibly proud. She’s also spirited; far more courageous than most men I’ve fought alongside in battle.
“Three months,” she shares, shaking her head. “The entire time, I thought he was going to…rape me. But he never touched me like that. He punished me, yes. He whipped me, had me begging on my knees, but things never crossed that line. I never understood why.”
Nausea rolls in my belly because she may as well be reading a page out of my handbook. This is how I commanded Saint to break the faceless women I used for my entertainment all because I could. I’ve always had a way with people. And no matter their reservations, they always bowed to my commands in the end.
All but Willow.
“I figured it was because he didn’t want his mom to see what a sick asshole he really is. But she knew what he was doing, yet she did nothing. I was like a brand-new puppy. She allowed him to play with me, and when he grew bored and forgot I existed, I got into trouble for making a mess.
“They left me for three fucking days without food or water. When I couldn’t hold my bladder, Zoya punished me for soiling myself.” She quickly wipes her cheek against her upper arm to brush away her tears.
“She is just as cruel as he is.”
Renata is right. Zoya cares for no one but herself.
“Do you know anything about Serg’s dealings?” Most would console someone after what they just heard. But I won’t insult either of us.
“Bits and pieces,” she confesses. “I overheard your name mentioned. A lot. Everyone seemed in awe of Serg because he brought you down. I don’t know what happened, but Serg made sure everyone was aware of what he did to you.”
“And what did he do?” I take a seat beside her, barely reining in my temper.
This is the first time I’ve been close to her. She has full lips, beautiful blue eyes, and once the muck is washed from her hair, the color will be a vibrant golden brown. I have the urge to brush the locks from her cheeks so I can see her better, but I don’t.
“He claimed you were weak and taking everything from you was easy. You’d grown soft because you fell in love. You were nothing now. A forgotten name on no one’s lips. He was now feared and respected. He was the mafia kingpin of Russia.
“I found it hard to believe, but when I heard the way people spoke to him, like they would do anything to please him, I realized it was true.”
No matter how many times I hear this, it doesn’t lessen the need to stab my half-brother in the jugular.
“Did you hear anything about who he’s in business with?”
When her lower lip trembles, I wonder what’s caused her suit of armor to crack. This is the first sign of weakness she’s shown. “Yes. He is the reason I was able to get away.”
“He?” I question, unsure where this is headed.
Her vulnerability is gone as soon as it appeared, and in its place is the fierce fighter that she is. “Untie me and I will tell you everything.”
Shaking my head, I level her with a cold stare. “It doesn’t work that way, малышка. Trust me when I say you are merely a means to an end. Just tell me what I want to know, and it’ll all be over.
“I have no need to hold you prisoner. Once I have the information I need, you are free to leave. I will even drive you to the airport myself. But if you choose to be difficult”—I hover forward, inches from her face—“I will show you what true cruelty looks like. Serg wants to be me. But he has no idea what I’ve done or what I will do if you don’t tell me what I want to hear.
“Serg chose you for whatever reason, but you’re nothing to me. Remember that. You don’t have an ace up your sleeve. So tell me what I fucking want to know before I lose my temper.”
The demons roar to life, demanding violence, but I subdue them—for now.
Her chest rises and falls quickly, her sweet breath filling the small space between us. Her cheeks flush, and instead of fear, I smell…arousal. She is…turned on by dominance? Is this why Serg chose her? Was she the perfect puppet for him to control?
Unable to help myself, I languidly sweep my gaze over her flustered features, across the swell of her breasts and down her trembling body. Even though she’s filthy, it’s clear she’s beautiful. I have the sudden urge to see what she looks like scrubbed clean.
However, I tamp down any curiosity because it has no right being there.
“Raul,” she finally confesses, adding another layer to this already fucked-up tale. “He is the one who helped me escape. He was the one who was supposed to meet me, but he didn’t. I thought he was different, but I was wrong.”
Pulling back, I suddenly need to put some distance between us.
I now understand her comment back in the woods when she said all men are cowards. Raul left her. The hurt in her voice betrays her. She clearly thought she meant something to Raul, which means they formed some sort of relationship during her captivity.
I thought Serg and Zoya fled because of me, but I was wrong. They fled because of Renata.
If Raul would jeopardize his relationship with Serg over her, she is someone he cherishes, which means she is very valuable to me. I don’t know why Raul didn’t show up when he was supposed to, but the fact he helped Renata escape knowing full well what that meant for his partnership with Serg means he cares for her. And I plan to exploit that.
Maybe he got cold feet? Or maybe he realized the damage it would do to his business? Whatever the reason, she is the bargaining chip I need.
“Do you know where he is?” I ask, keeping my space.
She shakes her head. “No.” My heart drops, that is, before she adds, “But I know where both will be.”
I arch a brow. She has my attention.
“On the seventh of every month, they do their exchange. Drugs for money. Money for drugs. I can take you. You just have to untie me.”
Renata has come to realize how important she is. I need her; therefore, she does have an ace up her sleeve. She has the whole fucking deck.
“How do you know where they meet?” I question as I doubt Serg took her along for a drive.
She licks her lips slowly, deliberately. “My ankle was chained to that radiator. Sometimes my wrists. But my mouth never was.”
I blink once, caught off guard by her frankness.
“It’s survival of the fittest. And that’s the reason I’m here and not buried in a shallow grave.”
So she seduced Raul in hopes he’d set her free. And it worked.
Running my fingers pensively over my three-day growth, I ask, “And what happens if I agree? If you show me where they meet, what happens then?”
Renata’s lips lift into a slanted grin. “Then both those assholes pay for leaving me for dead.”
She is a woman scorned. I believe her feelings for Raul were real, but it doesn’t seem she forgives easily. As for Serg, she just wants her revenge.
And just like that, foes have become friends as we want the same thing.
“Raul unlocked my chain, and I was to escape when everyone went to sleep. I did what he said. But when I finally broke free and waited for him outside, he wasn’t there. I don’t care what the reason was. He left me when he promised he wouldn’t.
“I promise to tell you everything I know if you promise to let me inflict the same pain they imposed on me when you find them.”
Pondering over her request, I find it’s really a no-brainer. She’s the missing link I need. And just like that, she became my lifeline.
“How can I trust you?”
She smells her victory. “You can’t. But neither can I.”
And she’s right.
I’m just another man who would use her to get what I want, and I’ve told her that. But we’re stronger working together. We may not like it, but we’re all that we have.
She knows too much to be lying, and I re
cognize the look of revenge sparking behind her blue eyes. Whether she is a blessing or a curse, I’ve yet to decide. But when I reach into the bedside table and grab my knife, I can’t deny that seeing this fierce woman tied to my bed leaves me feeling incredibly blessed.
Renata’s throat dips as she swallows deeply. I’m the one now holding the knife.
Leaning forward, I cut through the rope at her wrists. Once it severs and her arms sag in relief, I slowly lock eyes with her, daring her to make a move. She draws her arms down, rubbing over her red wrists with a pained expression.
I repeat the same action on the rope binding her ankles. This will be the real test. Once the rope snaps free, I brace for impact. She’s now free.
Adrenaline courses through me as the hunter is desperate for another chase. But my inner strategist hopes she just does as she’s told because I’m tired and want to at least catch an hour of sleep.
“Can I shower…please?” she asks, surprising me.
She too must realize the seventh is three weeks away, meaning we have to play nice for twenty-one days. A lifetime in this circumstance.
Peering up at her, I weigh my response. For this to work, she has to trust me. She doesn’t have to like me, and it’s better if she doesn’t, but trust and respect are the two factors we need. Once upon a time, I would have led with fear. However, Renata doesn’t scare easily.
“The bathroom is there.” I point at the closed door near the tiny kitchen.
I remain sitting on the bed, not accommodating her as she slowly shuffles into a sitting position before swinging her legs and placing her bare feet on the floor. This action has us sitting side by side.
I expect her to stand, eager to get away from me, but she doesn’t. She turns her cheek to look at me. It’s the first time she’s done so, so openly. She doesn’t shy away from the way she scans over my face and down my body.
I know I have a way with women and men. That’s not me being arrogant. I’ve been told by many that I’m handsome, and yes, that helps, but it’s the confidence I’ve had my entire life that seems to be my superpower.
I could sell ice to an Eskimo. If she were an Eskimo woman, well…
