Page 54 of His Forced Bride

The warehouse is a total loss, but Inessa doesn't know yet.

She's upstairs in her art room, sketching new designs, probably planning her next collection.

She needs to know.

And I need to see her reaction when she learns how far Kozlov is willing to go.

I find her in the room I converted for her use—north-facing windows for good light, a drafting table, shelves for supplies and fabric samples.

She sits with her back to the door, long, dark hair falling over her shoulder as she works.

The sketch pad in front of her shows the beginning of a dress design, clean lines and elegant proportions.

She doesn't acknowledge my presence, but her shoulders tense when I step into the room.

"There's been an incident," I say.

Her hand stills on the pencil, but she doesn't turn around.

"What incident?"

"Your warehouse on Nevsky Prospect. It burned last night."

Now she turns, gray-green eyes wide with shock.

"What?"

"Complete loss. The building, the equipment, your entire spring collection."

She's on her feet, moving toward the door, but I block her path.

"I need to see it. I need to call Alina. She can help coordinate with the insurance?—"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"You're not leaving this compound. And you're not making any calls."

Her face flushes with anger.

"It's my business. My company. I have every right?—"

"You have no rights that I don't give you."

The wince on her face pains me, but I don't mean these things to be shackles.

I'm trying to keep her safe.

"This wasn't an accident, Inessa. It was arson, professionally done, and it's connected to threats against this family."

"Threats against your family," she corrects.

"This has nothing to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you. You're my wife. That makes you a target."

She laughs bitterly as she shakes her head.