Page 16 of Hostage of the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #7)

Azriel tried to lose herself in the crowd, weaving between clusters of well-dressed criminals as if she could somehow become invisible.

Her heart hammered against her ribs with such force that she was certain everyone could hear it over the gentle murmur of conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses.

The elegant ballroom felt like it was closing in around her, the air thick and suffocating.

But Danny Hartford had always been good at finding her when she least wanted to be found.

“There’s my beautiful daughter,” his voice boomed across the space between them, warm and paternal in a way that made her skin crawl. “Azriel, sweetheart, come give your old man a hug.”

Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her feet felt rooted to the marble floor.

She could feel the attention of nearby guests shifting toward them, curious gazes drawn by Danny’s enthusiastic greeting.

Running now would create exactly the kind of scene that would reflect poorly on Kostya, and despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to embarrass him in front of his associates.

Danny approached with arms outstretched, his smile never wavering even as Azriel instinctively stepped backward. “Don’t be shy, princess. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Hello, Danny.” The words felt like broken glass in her throat. She couldn’t call him father, not here, not ever again.

“Danny?” His laugh was loud and slightly too sharp. “Since when do you call your father by his first name? Come here.”

He reached for her before she could protest, pulling her into an embrace that felt like a trap closing around her.

His cologne was the same as always: expensive and cloying, transporting her instantly back to a childhood filled with fear and walking on eggshells.

His hands pressed against her back, holding her too tightly, too long, in a way that had nothing to do with paternal affection and everything to do with control.

“You look stunning,” he murmured near her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Marriage agrees with you. Your husband is a very lucky man.”

Azriel tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “Please let go.”

“In a minute, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much.” His voice carried just enough emotion to fool anyone listening, but she could hear the underlying threat. “We have so much to catch up on.”

Panic clawed at her chest, making it impossible to breathe properly. The familiar helplessness of being trapped in Danny’s orbit washed over her, threatening to drag her back to that dark place where she’d spent most of her childhood. Her vision started to blur around the edges.

“I think that’s enough catching up for now.”

Kostya’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts like a lifeline. His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and steady, and Danny immediately released her as if he’d been burned.

“Kostya,” Danny’s smile was all teeth and false bonhomie. “What a pleasure to finally meet the man who swept my daughter off her feet.”

“The pleasure is mutual.” Kostya’s tone was polite, but there was steel underneath it. “Though I’m afraid I need to steal my wife away. There are some people I’d like her to meet.”

“Of course, of course. Business before pleasure, right?” Danny’s laugh grated against Azriel’s nerves. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Kostya’s hand moved to the small of her back, guiding her away from Danny with a possessiveness that should have irritated her but instead felt like salvation. She could feel her father’s eyes following them as they moved through the crowd, but she didn’t dare look back.

“Smile,” Kostya murmured near her ear. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

She tried to arrange her features into something resembling composure, but her hands were shaking so badly she had to clasp them together to hide it. “I need some air.”

“Not yet. A few more minutes, then we can leave.”

“I can’t.” The words came out strangled. “Please, I need to get out of here.”

Something in her voice must have convinced him because he changed direction immediately, leading her toward a side door that opened onto a private terrace. The cool night air hit her face like a blessing, and she gulped it down greedily.

“What the hell was that about?” Kostya demanded once they were alone.

Azriel wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the trembling that had started in her hands and was now spreading through her entire body. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.” His voice was sharp with frustration. “You looked like you were about to have a panic attack in there. What did he do to you?”

“I said I’m fine.” But even as she said it, she could feel the walls closing in again. Her breathing was becoming shallow and rapid, and dark spots danced at the edges of her vision.

“Azriel.” Kostya’s tone changed, becoming gentler. “Look at me.”

She couldn’t. If she looked at him, if she saw even a hint of pity or disgust in his eyes, she would completely fall apart. “I just need a minute.”

“Hey.” His hands settled on her shoulders, warm and surprisingly gentle. “You’re safe. He can’t hurt you here.”

The kindness in his voice was her undoing. A sob escaped her throat before she could stop it, and then the tears she’d been holding back since the moment she’d seen Danny came flooding out. Years of suppressed terror and pain poured out of her in ugly, wrenching sobs that she couldn’t control.

Kostya didn’t say anything else. He simply pulled her against his chest, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other rubbed soothing circles on her back. His body was solid and warm, a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped against his shirt. “I’m so sorry, I don’t usually...”

“Shh.” His lips brushed against her hair. “You don’t have to apologize for being human.”

The gentle rumble of his voice against her ear slowly began to calm her racing heart. She could smell his cologne, expensive yet not overwhelming, mixed with something that was uniquely him. Gradually, her breathing began to slow, and the trembling in her limbs subsided.

“Better?” he asked softly.

She nodded against his chest, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. His arms were still around her, holding her like something precious, and when she finally looked up at him, the expression in his dark eyes made her breath catch for an entirely different reason.

“Azriel.” Her name was barely a whisper on his lips.

The air between them shifted, charged with a tension that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the want that had been building between them for weeks. His thumb traced along her cheekbone, wiping away the last of her tears with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his face so close she could feel his breath against her lips.

She should. Every rational part of her brain was screaming that this was a terrible idea, that she was vulnerable and confused and in no state to make decisions about anything, let alone this. But when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “Don’t stop.”

His lips found hers with a gentleness that surprised her. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if he was giving her time to change her mind. But when she melted against him, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, something in him snapped.

The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier and more demanding. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him with a soft moan that seemed to echo in the quiet of the terrace. He tasted like expensive scotch and something darker, more dangerous, and she found herself craving more.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed against her mouth, his hands tangling in her hair and destroying her careful chignon. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first night I saw you.”

“Even when you were kidnapping me?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, but instead of breaking the spell, it seemed to intensify it.

“Especially then.” His teeth grazed her lower lip, making her gasp. “You were so fierce, so ready to fight me. It was magnificent.”

His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves barely concealed by her black dress. When his palm curved around her breast, she arched into the touch with a soft cry that he swallowed with another kiss.

“We should go somewhere more private,” he said against her throat, his lips trailing fire along her skin.

“Yes.” The word came out breathless and needy, and she didn’t care. All she could think about was the heat building low in her belly, the way his touch made her feel alive in a way she’d never experienced before.

He led her through a discreet side entrance, the air between them crackling with anticipation.

The narrow staircase creaked beneath their hurried steps, each one dragging them closer to the edge.

At the top, he unlocked a door to what looked like a private office, but the moment it clicked shut behind them, he had her pinned against it, his mouth crashing into hers with a hunger that felt almost violent in its urgency.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he growled against her lips, his voice thick with need. “The fire in your eyes when you argue with me. The way your body molds to mine. The fucking sounds you make when I touch you.”

His hands roamed her body with a kind of reverence laced with impatience, gathering her dress in greedy fistfuls. He bunched the fabric at her hips, revealing inch after inch of skin until his fingers brushed the lace edge of her panties.

She whimpered against his mouth, all restraint dissolving under the weight of her need.

“Please,” she whispered, not entirely sure what she was pleading for, only that she needed him .

He didn’t need clarity. He just needed access.

He slipped his hand beneath the silk, groaning softly when his fingers met the slick heat between her thighs. “Fuck, you’re already this wet for me?”

His thumb found her clit and pressed down lightly, a teasing flick that sent her hips jerking forward in response. He circled slowly, barely applying pressure, just enough to make her twitch and gasp, her breath coming faster with every lazy sweep.

“You feel that?” he murmured, lips brushing her jaw as his fingers moved in maddening patterns. “How you melt for me like this?”

Her fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt as he kept stroking, slow, coaxing touches that had her teetering on the edge of sanity.

Then, just as she thought she might beg again, he eased a finger inside her.

She moaned low and deep, her body arching as he began a slow rhythm, curling it upward with precision.

“So tight,” he breathed. “So fucking perfect around my fingers.”

He added another, stretching her as he moved in and out, his thumb never breaking rhythm against her clit. The dual sensation had her unraveling, every nerve ending tuned to the slick, steady slide and the firm, deliberate circles that sent electric pulses through her body.

And then he stopped , just for a moment.

She made a desperate, broken sound.

“Shh,” he said, voice dark and amused. “I’m not done with you.”

He changed pace, slower, deeper thrusts of his fingers now, curling them inside her until her legs began to shake. He kissed down her neck, dragging his lips along her throat while his thumb resumed its torment, faster this time, tighter.

Her head fell back against the door with a soft thud, her body caught in that sweet, unbearable space between too much and not enough. He moved faster, more relentless now, the sound of his fingers working her echoing in the charged silence.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he rasped. “I can feel it. The way you tighten around me. Let go for me.”

Her body was taut, trembling, her moans climbing in pitch with every pass of his thumb. Her thighs trembled around his hand, the heat building until it became a wave, cresting higher and higher,

“Come for me,” he said, voice low and commanding. “I want to feel you break.”

That was all it took. She shattered, crying out as the orgasm slammed into her. Her body convulsed around his fingers, hips jerking helplessly as the waves crashed over her, one after another after another.

He held her through it, never stopping, coaxing every last tremor from her with slow, deliberate movements until she slumped against him, wrecked and gasping.

His lips brushed her ear, tender and possessive all at once. “You’re fucking beautiful like this.”

But as the fog of pleasure began to clear, reality came crashing back. She remembered where they were, why they were here, and most importantly, the fear in her voice when she’d begged him to take her away from the party.

“You knew,” she said suddenly, pushing against his chest. “You knew he would be here tonight.”

Kostya went very still, and the guilt that flashed across his face was all the confirmation she needed.

“You set this up.” The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. “You brought me here specifically so I would see him.”

“Azriel, let me explain...”

“No.” She shoved him away more forcefully, anger replacing the vulnerability that had made her so desperate for his touch. “You used my trauma as some kind of test. You watched me fall apart, and then you... we...”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t voice what they’d just done while her emotional wounds were still bleeding. The intimacy that had felt so real moments before now felt manipulative and cruel.

“It wasn’t like that,” Kostya said, reaching for her.

“Don’t touch me.” She jerked away from him, straightening her dress with hands that shook with rage rather than desire. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

She left him standing there in the darkness, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, burning into her back like a brand.