Page 22 of Forced Bratva Hostage

I turn to face Madeline, and she looks as surprised as I am.

Madeline stares at me with her brows knitted tightly and a wide, confused smile over her lips.

“Who in the world was that?” she asks.

“A guest,” I answer quickly.

“A guest who called you herhusband?” She tilts her head to the side and throws me a look that says,What bullshit are you up to this time, Andrei?

Maddie and I have been friends since I was a kid.

Our families have known each other for decades, and our fathers worked together, so it was a natural progression for me to hire her when I needed an accountant for my businesses.

Never mind that she’s the best accountant in the city, and I need someone who can manage my books in a very specific way.

Maddie is a beautiful woman, and we are very good friends, but nothingmorethan that.

I don’t know if I’m not her type, or if she’s not mine, or if it’s just the fact that she has been more of a sister to me than anything else, but there was never a spark between us.

“She didn’t say husband. She must have said something else,” I shrug.

“Mm.” Maddie pulls her mouth tight and shakes her head. “Yes, something else. Sure. What is she doing here?”

“She’s just a guest,” I say again. “One with a bad attitude. She’s getting on my nerves.” I stare at the open door, still confused about how she got the lock open.

“Are you saying that someone is managing to rattle your patience? Now that is unheard of,” Maddie muses.

Huffing in agitation, I gather up the paperwork we were going through and shuffle it into a neat pile. “I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry for keeping you so long,” I say.

“That’s okay. I never sleep, anyway. But I do still have other stuff to get to tonight, so I’m going to get out of your way. You can e-mail me that list of inquiries and I’ll get the budget together for next month.”

“Thanks, Maddie. I appreciate it.”

After walking her to the door, I wave goodbye and turn back inside, my thoughts on Tatiana.

Should I go and make sure she’s in her bedroom now?

Even though she got out of the room, it’s clear she couldn’t get out of the mansion, so I’m not worried about that—but how am I supposed to handle this situation?

My wristwatch glints as I tilt it towards me.

It's past two. It’s late, and I need sleep.

I’ll deal with Tatiana in the morning.

Walking into my room, I tug my clothes off and toss them over the chair, then climb beneath the covers and snuggle against the softness. I’m not just tired. I’m exhausted. It’s not like everything went according to plan these last few days, but at least it’s coming together now.

Tatiana’s sassy comments drift through my thoughts. I bet shehashad a shitty day. Guilt stirs somewhere inside me, and I shove it away. If I start feeling bad about what she’s going through, then everything will come crumbling down.

I don’t have time for guilt, not like that.

But lying there in the dark, staring at the ceiling and the soft patterns made by the moonlight, I can’t help thinking about her.

She is nothing like I expected her to be.

I was prepared to meet a spoiled, weak little brat of a girl. Someone scared and meek, and pampered. One hundred percent, I did not expect her to be able to pick locks or have the confidence to then come andtellme about it.

She spoke to me like she had no fear at all.