Page 11

I stood by the window in my office, my fingers cradling a glass of vodka as I watched my wife—my prisoner—wandering around the garden. Her flowered green dress complemented the color of her eyes, blending seamlessly with the manicured lawns like a fucking chameleon.

She was silent, moving around with stealth and caution, her gaze darting across the vast expanse of land. Her red hair fell loosely over her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face, and her skin seemed to simmer in the sunlight.

That pretty little devil was scheming her escape. She was searching for possible exits and loopholes that she could take advantage of. Her watchful eyes were roaming the compound, observing, searching for weaknesses, and studying every detail that her eyes could catch.

I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip, staring at her in awe, impressed by her determination. However, the truth was that there was no way she would ever escape. This place was a fortress, and my men were stationed at every entrance and exit. Escaping this building was nearly impossible, at least for her. Nonetheless, she wasn’t someone I could easily underestimate; she had proven to be more than capable of surprising me.

Deep down, I was eager to know what she’d do about her situation, how she’d handle it. A part of me anticipated her escape plan and how she’d pull it off. That would be rather remarkable.

My lips curled into a sly grin as I sipped from my glass again.

“She’s awfully quiet these days,” Ilya said, standing behind me, his voice deep and hoarse. “A lot more than expected.”

Without turning to look at him, I said, “She’s thinking. Plotting.” My tone was smooth, laced with amusement and intrigue. “That’s cute.” I took another sip.

His shoes clicked against the floor as he drew nearer, standing by my side, eyes fixed on the subject matter. “Does she know?” He stole a glance in my direction. “Does she know why you took her on her wedding day?”

My brows narrowed ever so slightly. “It doesn’t matter. She’s already trapped. It wouldn’t change anything.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Enough, Ilya.” I turned to him, sneering. “You should know your place.” My voice, low and even, was laced with a hint of venom.

He tightened his jaw, and a fleeting dark expression flashed across his face. “Apologies,” he said, withdrawing.

I returned my gaze out the window and resumed watching my pretty little prisoner explore the compound. I knew her type: defiant, stubborn, and determined, never to be underestimated. She seemed like someone who would fight back when cornered. She had guts and was brave in ways most girls her age weren’t.

It was almost like with each passing day, I discovered new reasons to find her interesting.

A mischievous grin twitched on the corner of my lips as I realized that I hadn’t troubled her today yet. She was roaming around, searching for ways to escape without me getting in her way. Well, that was about to change because I wouldn’t stand here and watch her be free from my torment.

I drained the vodka, set the glass on the mahogany table, and walked out of my office.

As I made my way toward her, the gentle chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves added to the serene ambiance. The lush greenery of my meticulously manicured garden enveloped me, and a cool breeze brushed against my skin.

I halted a few paces behind her, both hands buried in the pockets of my black pants as I watched her staring across the other side of the fence. She craved liberty, to be free from the walls that had her imprisoned.

“‘Freedom is not worth having if it does not connote freedom to err,’” I said, quoting Mahatma Gandhi.

Her shoulders tensed as she flinched at the sound of my voice, the way I appeared behind her seemingly out of the blue.

She met my gaze, folding her arms across her chest, and a scowl settled on her face, her brows rising. “Oh, yeah? In what way have I erred, rather than being trapped here with you?”

I scoffed, closing the distance between us. My thumb brushed over my nose. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she clenched her jaw, glaring at me as if silently warning me to stay back. I ignored the flame in her eyes and halted mere inches from her.

Her chest rose and fell, her dark expression masking her fear and anxiety.

I leaned forward, my breath against her skin. “You thought that you could escape me. That’s how you erred. That was your first mistake,” I whispered, retaining my self-satisfied smirk.

She looked me dead in the eyes and said, her voice stern and unapologetic, “If you think that I’m gonna beg, or grovel at your feet, then you have something else coming.” Her scowl deepened, her eyes blazing with fury.

So hot!

“Quite the contrary. I don’t expect that at all,” I said, my hand extending to graze her forehead. “You have too much fire for that.” My voice dropped just enough to send a chill down her spine.

Did her body tremble at my words…or my touch?

Whichever was the case, it gladdened my stone-cold heart.

“Do you know the problem with having so much fire?” I asked, my eyes boring into that blazing pair of hers. “It’ll most likely end up consuming you.”

Her brows knitted together, forming deep creases between them.

“You will break, printsessa ,” I added, my voice dripping with conviction. “It doesn’t matter how stubborn you are. Eventually, you’ll accept your fate.”

Her jaw tightened, and her fingers clenched into his fists. She glowered at me, chest heaving slowly as she seethed in silence.

Now, I could go about my business knowing that I’d ruined her day.

My smirk broadened, and I stepped away, leaving her alone to her fury, hatred, and disdain.