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I’ve never been in this little town outside of Moscow before, but I’ve heard about it—small, tight-knit. Ruled by Bratva. They’re known for their excellent food, curated shopping, and Bratva enforcers.

He walks beside me as we look for O’Rourke under the pretense of shopping, but he’s nowhere I’d expect him. The bars, the alleyways, the usual haunts. He’s a big guy, hard to miss.

“You sure Rodion was right? He was heading out of the country and definitely not here.”

Matvei’s lip curls into something like a half smile, but his gray-blue eyes are steely. “I’m sure.”

Maybe I should be afraid. I should definitely be planning my next escape, but instead, something dark and dangerous and seductive tempts me. Because for all his talk of punishment and retribution, he hasn’t really hurt me. Not yet.

He says it’s about loyalty, about making me suffer. But then why does he stop himself when hecouldbreak me? Shove me in a cage as well-furnished as a luxury hotel? Why does he feed me, wash me, and make my body sing? Why does he look murderous when anyone so much as glances at me too long?

I’m playing the long game, earning his trust. But then, why do I watch him when he isn’t looking? Why do I notice everything about him?

Why does something dark and thrilling curl in my stomach when he says I’m his? I need to be careful.

He isn’t the only one losing control.

It’s time I changed the game.

I know exactly how to play it.

“Here, first, please. Do I have a budget?”

“Of time or money?” he asks, stormy eyes narrowed.

“Uh, both?” My eyes light up at the glittering rows of cosmetics and lotions, lip gloss and eyeshadows. It smells like heaven in here. All that’s missing is an excellent little cosplay shop where I could get some wigs and trendy little outfits. I’ll have to go hunting online.

“The quicker we are, the better.”

I nod, lifting a tube of my favorite lipstick, a neutral stain that gives me just a hint of color.

He hasn’t said anything about money.

So I have a little fun. I grab the best skincare products, my favorite makeup. I treat myself to a luxury box of haircare products and a few of my favorite scents. It’s a shopping spree funded by the Bratva. It feels like poetic justice. And even though he doesn’t look at the total at the register, he definitely notes the creepy guy at the exit who scurries away with one look from Matvei.

I buy the prettiest panties and the most comfortable, silkiest bras. A variety of clothes and shoes for comfort and style. And every store we go to, I step up my game.

I lean in too close when he isn’t expecting it, close enough to catch the hitch in his breath.

I brush my fingers over his wrist, light as silk, when I’m looking at options by the lotions. I pretend I don’t notice the way his fingers twitch as if eager to restrain me.

I bare my neck when I spritz on body spray, tipping my chin just so. “Like this one?”

I tilt my head just enough when I speak—letting my voice dip, my lips part. Just enough to make him notice.

And he does. My god, he does.

I can see it in the way his fists clench when I get too close. The way his breathing shifts when I touch him. In the heat of his wicked gaze.Wicked.

He wants to hurt me, but he… doesn’t.

Instead, he shadows me. Watches the way I move. Takes his sweet time threading his fingers through my hair and doesn’t even bother hiding it when he inhales deeply.

“You like that scent?”

He only growls low in response.

Affirmative.