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The movement sent a sharp ache through my body—a painful reminder of just how thoroughly he claimed me. Another small jolt and the plug nudged deeper inside me. Every time I thought I was used to it, something would remind me of its full weight.

Pavel watched my reaction, his amusement fading. His gaze turned sharp.

He wasn't finished with me. There was something more he wanted. What was left?

"Now. Tell me about your grandmother. And your father."

I shook my head, refusing.

Pavel could do whatever he wanted to me, but I wouldn't put my grandmother in danger. Not again. I wouldn’t betray my family like my father did.

His expression darkened.

With slow, deliberate movements, he stood and placed me on my feet, so he was hovering over me.

I took a shaky step back, and he followed me.

Every time I retreated, he advanced until my back hit the wall.

My pulse spiked, and it became impossible to swallow as he pressed his forearms to the wall, caging me in.

His presence was overwhelming. Suffocating. Inescapable. And just a little intoxicating.

"Tell me, Alina."

I swallowed hard.

But no matter how close he got?—

I wouldn't give him what he wanted. I couldn't.

"No." Not yet.

Pavel didn't like that answer.

Slowly, deliberately, his patience snapped.

He reached beside him to a drawer in the long buffet table and pulled out a wooden box. Flipping open the lid, he dumped out a pile of loose and bundled photographs.

The sight hit me like a physical blow.

My stomach plummeted. He knew.

"Where did you get those?"

He didn't look up. "Your apartment."

A chill raced down my spine. Of course he did. I wondered what else he had found.

"I emptied it. So I have everything."

The blood drained from my face, and my hands shook.

"You—"

"You no longer live there. It isn't safe."

No longer caring if he retaliated, I pressed my hands to his chest and tried to shove him back.