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“I just wanted to see you. Our last parting was so…” He raises his brows. “Dramatic.” A hint of anger has entered his voice.

“Get out,” I say again. “Breaking and entering doesn’t work for me.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t break in.” He holds up a key fob.I am so moving if I survive this…

“Just because you can get into my apartment without smashing anything doesn’t mean you have an invitation.”

His eyes darken, something about my words bringing fresh anger into his gaze. Vladimir takes another step forward, and my finger tenses on the trigger. “One more step and I’ll blow you away.”What the hell, am I in a Western now?

“You are much more than I ever dreamed of—a real tigress.”Ew.“Did you like the book I gave you?”

“It seemed like a far stretch. Not that well-written, either.”

His brow lowers, as if he’s taking my literary criticism seriously. “You have so much faith in your country that you don’t think your elections can be influenced in this way?”

I did.“No,” I answer. “It just all seems a little cliché, doesn’t it?”The new theme of my freaking life.“I mean, a Manchurian candidate?”

“The Communists in that Cold War drama could never accomplish what we have done.”

He’s going to kill me. That’s why he is here. No way would he tell me any of this if he didn’t plan to take me out.I have to shoot him. It’s him or me!

“The election isn’t over yet,” I say, taking in the breadth of his chest.

An awareness comes into his gaze.He saw my look, honing in on my target.Vladimir’s muscles tense, and he launches himself at me. My finger squeezes the trigger, but it’s all a blur.

His shoulder slams into me, rolling us both onto the floor, my head crashing into Archie’s crate. He barks with surprise and upset.

Vladimir is on top of me—the softness of his cashmere turtleneck contrasting with the roughness of his grip. He gets the gun away from me as easily as the sun melts ice cream on a summer day and flings it across the room. The small, useless thing hits the wall and thunks onto the carpeting.

Thick, strong arms circle me—he’s hugging me. Dry lips brush my neck and he takes in a deep inhale, reminding my own lungs to start working again. I breathe in mint and aftershave along with something musky and raw.

“Angela.” He says my name with a strange, horrible reverence. “You are magnificent.”

I wriggle under him, and he sits up, getting some of his bulk off me so I can breathe more easily. His face above mine, Vlad looks down with that crooked smile. “Come,” he says. “We should go.”

“Go?” I squeak, incapable of keeping the fear out of my voice. Archie is still barking, and Vladimir looks up at him and growls, a deep rumble in his chest that vibrates through me and makes Archie whine and then go silent.Scary dude.

Vladimir returns his attention to me, brushing a strand of hair from where it’s tangled against my lips. “Grace Kelly gave up her career for Prince Rainier III.”

My brain trips over itself. He doesn’t want to kill me, despite what I did to him. He wants tomarryme. The hiccup of a laugh that is trying to break free gets stuck in my throat as his gaze lowers to my body—his inspection is like a frigid wind, and I tense under it. Vladimir’s eyes light, and he moves a hand off my shoulder down to my breast, cupping it so that I whimper and shiver. “You like that?” he asks.

No!But I keep my mouth shut even as my entire body grows rigid against his touch. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. “And”—his eyes return to my face—“brave.” That twisted smile distorts his mouth again. “Grand made a mistake with you—he went too far. But don’t worry. Vladimir is here to protect you now.”

“Oh,” I whisper, letting my voice go breathy and bringing up a hand to cup his face.I need to play this just right.

“You won’t need to work anymore,” he explains. “I will take care of everything. And I can protect you from Reginald Grand. From Temperance Johnson. No one will make you do things you don’t want to do anymore.”

Except you, huh, buddy?“How?” I ask, infusing my voice with awe.

“Reginald Grand is under our control,” Vladimir says.

“Like in the book?” I ask. “You’re blackmailing him?”

“Yes,moy pitomets,my little spy-in-training.You see, I am much more powerful than even your president. Only I can keep you safe.”

Vladimir’s hand is slipping down the side of my body, following the curve of my waist. “Well, he’s not president yet,” I say, keeping my voice meek.

Vladimir stills. “He will be,” he lowers his mouth toward my breast, so slowly that I make out every glint of stubble on his jawline, the tiny scar of a healed piercing in his earlobe, every detail of this moment searing itself into my mind.