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"Do I?" I laugh, and it sounds hollow even to me. "I know you're not Sophia Moretti. I know mywifecame at me with a dinner knife earlier tonight and tried to kill me. So no, I don't think I know who the fuck you are." The last words sound ragged, like they’re torn from my throat, and I could swear I see her flinch.

She swallows, and for the first time, uncertainty flickers across her face.

"My name is Valentina," she says finally. "Valentina Kane."

Kane.The name rings a bell, but it takes me a moment to place it. I’ve heard the name Nicholas Kane before. My father knows him, has treated him like a confidant at times, if my memory serves me correctly. If I’m thinking of the right man, he’s a sort of shadow broker in Miami, doing shady business deals, greasing one palm while shaking the other, making problems disappear. It’s entirely possible, based on my vague knowledge of the man, that he might have taken a contract from someone who wantsmeto disappear.

And the woman in front of me is… what? His daughter? I couldn’t say what he looks like. I narrow my eyes at her.

“Did he send you?”

I see the moment where she decides whether or not to tell me anything more. I don’t think it’s fear of pain that changes her mind. I’m not sure what it is, but she nods, her sharp green gaze holding mine.

"Why didn't you kill me?" she asks suddenly. "You had every opportunity. You could have snapped my neck while I was unconscious. Shot me. Choked me. You could have killed me… before." Her throat works, and I know she’s thinking of what we did earlier. Of my cum drying on her thighs. Of the way I fucked her. Of the way she came for me while I did.

This time, it’s me that hesitates. I should have killed her. It would have been the smart move, the safe move. My father would have expected it. Hell, I would have expected it of myself before all of this happened tonight.

"Maybe I want answers more than I want you dead," I manage, more calmly than I feel.

Something shifts in her expression. There’s the faintest smirk on the edge of her lips, a keenness in her gaze that locks onto mine, assessing me.

"Or maybe," she says quietly, her full lips still on the edge of a smirk, "you're not as cold as you pretend to be, Konstantin Abramov."

The sound of my name feels like nails raking across my skin. My muscles tense, my cock twitches, my jaw tightens as I try to fight what this woman does to me. How she makes me feel. I stare at her for a long moment, and she stares back at me.

I imagine questioning her as she sits there, my cum on her thighs and her own blood dried on her throat. I imagine the things I might do to her to make her talk. I imagine holding a gun to her head. And a long, deep exhale seems to come from somewhere in the bottom of my soul as I stride toward her chair.

“Get up,” I command, moving behind her.

I see her hesitate for a moment, as if she’s concerned about what I might have planned, but she’s too proud to let me see fear. She pushes herself up to her feet, rising smoothly despite the awkward position of her arms. I feel the smallest flinch of surprise as I unlock the handcuffs, half-expecting her to attack the moment her hands are free, but she simply brings them around to her front, rubbing her wrists. She’s utterly silent.

“The bathroom is to the left and down the hall.” I nod in its direction and pick up the duffel. “Clothes are in here. Go shower and clean yourself up.”

Her gaze sweeps from me to our surroundings, and I can see the calculation in her face. She’s thinking about her options. I’d be more surprised if she wasn’t.

"Don't bother trying to run," I warn her. "There's no one else out here, and there’s nowhere to run. If you get away from me, I’ll be forced to call for backup. And then, any chance you have of surviving this is gone. Once my father knows about this, aboutyou, once his men have their hands on you…” I trail off, knowing she can imagine far worse things than I can describe. “That’s if they even get to you. Because if you run, Valentina, I will chase you. If I chase you, I will catch you. And when I catch you…”

Her eyes flicker back to mine, and I see a glimmer of heat in them. I fight the surge of desire that ripples through my body, the thought of all the things I could do to her if and when I caught her.

“What will you do then,muzh?” she asks softly, and the sound of her speaking Russian sends a jolt through me.Husband.My jaw tightens and my eyes narrow, my chest tightening as rage floods through me, tangling with that other emotion that I don’t dare put a name to.

I step toward her, still leaving space between us. “If you run, Valentina, when I catch you… I will kill you this time.” I step closer still, until I can see the gold flecks in her greenirises, smell the sweet sugared violet of her perfume. “That’s a promise.”

22

KONSTANTIN

Amuscle in her jaw ticks, but she nods, watching me warily.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asks softly. “Why not take me back to your father?”

The question hangs between us, and I don't have an answer I'm willing to give—not to her, not even to myself.

"Shower," I repeat instead, my voice firm. "We'll talk after."

She holds my gaze for another moment, then turns and walks toward the bathroom, scooping up the duffel bag on the way, her shoulders straight, her head high. Even now, even as my prisoner, there’s a strength and grace in her that’s intoxicating.

I hear her footsteps going down the hall, and then the sound of the bathroom door closing behind her, the lock clicking into place. It won't keep me out if I want in, and she knows it. But I’m not surprised that she wants the illusion of privacy.