Page 4 of Hostage of the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #7)

Kostya leaned back in his leather chair, watching the woman across from him. Azriel Hartford. Even bound to the chair, she maintained a quiet dignity that surprised him. Most people would be sobbing, begging for mercy by now. But not Danny Hartford’s daughter.

Her smoky gray eyes remained defiant, scanning the room for possible escape routes. Kostya almost admired her composure, despite the circumstances. The fear was certainly there, but it was controlled and masked behind a wall of determination.

“Do you know why you’re here, Miss Hartford?” Kostya kept his voice deliberately calm, almost conversational.

She lifted her chin. “Because you’re a criminal who kidnaps innocent women?”

A smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t help it. Her spirit was refreshing, if misplaced. “Not quite.”

“Then enlighten me.” Her voice was steady, but he caught the subtle tremble in her fingers.

“Danny Hartford,” Kostya said, watching her face carefully.

The recognition flashed immediately in her eyes, just as he’d expected. He’d done his research on her: the daughter of Danny Hartford, a twenty-one-year-old brilliant student at the University of Chicago. What he hadn’t expected was her reaction.

Instead of panic, her brow furrowed. “What did my father do?”

Kostya paused, momentarily thrown by the question. He’d anticipated fear, perhaps denial, but not this calm inquiry. It was almost as if...

“You don’t seem surprised to hear your father might be in trouble,” he observed.

“My father’s always in trouble,” she replied flatly. “What did he do to you?”

Kostya stood, slowly circling the chair.

“Where should I begin? Your father has been working for my organization for years. Everything was running smoothly until recently. He started skimming money off the top of our operations. Significant amounts. When confronted, he diverted shipments, compromised security protocols, and revealed information to rivals.”

He stopped behind her, leaning down so his lips were inches from her ear. “Every time we gave him a chance to make things right, he found new ways to test my patience.”

She remained rigid, but didn’t flinch away from his proximity.

“Three of my men are dead because of information he leaked,” Kostya continued, moving back into her line of sight. “He cost us millions in a botched operation last month. When my enforcers went to collect what he owed, your father claimed he was broke.”

Azriel’s expression hardened. “And what does any of this have to do with me?”

Kostya smiled coldly. “Your father offered you as payment.”

Her face went completely blank, and for a moment, Kostya thought she might actually break. But then she laughed, a short, bitter sound.

“Of course he did,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“He spoke highly of your intelligence,” Kostya continued, watching her carefully. “Said you’d make a valuable wife for someone like me. Someone who could generate income for the family.”

Something shifted in her eyes, not fear, but disgust. “And you believed him?”

“I didn’t, actually. Not at first.” Kostya sat on the edge of his desk. “But when it became clear he had nothing else of value to offer, I decided to take him up on his suggestion.”

“To punish him,” she stated, not a question.

“Smart girl.” Kostya nodded. “Though I must admit, I’m curious about your relationship with your father. Most daughters would be devastated to learn their father had sold them to the Russian mafia.”

“We’re not close,” she said flatly.

Kostya laughed. “Clearly.”

While he’d been talking, he noticed her fingers working methodically at the restraints. Most wouldn’t have caught the subtle movements, but he hadn’t risen to his position by missing details. Instead of stopping her immediately, he continued, interested to see how far she would get.

“Your father also failed to mention how beautiful you are,” he said casually. “Perhaps he thought that might increase your value too much.”

She ignored the comment, maintaining her focus. “How exactly do you expect this arrangement to work? You kidnap me, force me to marry you, and then what? I become your obedient little wife?”

Kostya smiled. “I don’t expect obedience from anyone, Miss Hartford. Life has taught me that’s an unrealistic expectation.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“For now, just your signature.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folder. “A marriage contract. Once signed, you’ll legally be my wife, and your father’s debt will be considered paid.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t.”

The confidence in his voice seemed to fuel her determination. With a final twist, she freed her hands from the loosened restraints and lunged from the chair.

Kostya was ready. His reflexes, honed through years of training and combat, allowed him to catch her wrists before she could make it two steps. He pulled her against him, pinning her arms.

The moment their skin touched, something electric passed between them, a jolt that had nothing to do with the physical struggle. Kostya felt it race through his body, unexpected and unwelcome. By the sudden widening of her eyes, she felt it too.

For a heartbeat, they remained frozen, the strange sensation hanging in the air between them. Then reality crashed back, and Azriel renewed her struggle to break free.

“Let me go,” she demanded, twisting against his grip.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Kostya replied, his voice harsher than he intended. Something about her touch had unsettled him in a way he didn’t care to examine.

“I won’t pay for my father’s sins,” she said, her voice intense with conviction. “I don’t owe you anything.”

The declaration surprised him. Most people in her position would be pleading, offering anything to secure their freedom. But here she was, staring him down as if she were his equal.

“Your father offered you as payment,” Kostya reminded her, tightening his grip slightly. “That makes you mine.”

“I’m nobody’s,” she shot back. “Least of all yours.”

He pulled her closer, until their faces were only inches apart. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But you’re also naive if you think you have a choice in this matter.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Is there?” Kostya released one of her wrists to reach for the contract on his desk, never breaking eye contact. “Let me be clear, Azriel. I’m not a patient man, and I’ve grown tired of playing this game. Even with you.”

She tried to twist away, but he maintained his hold effortlessly.

“Sign the contract,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“Never.”

Kostya sighed, as if disappointed by her predictable response.

“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But since you insist on being difficult.

..” He pulled out his phone with his free hand and showed her the screen.

“I have men following your roommate, Emily. Your friend Sophia. Your cousin Meredith. Your former professor, Dr. Palmer.”

With each name, Azriel’s face grew paler.

“Every remaining person you care about,” Kostya continued calmly, “will suffer the consequences of your refusal. One by one, they will disappear. And you’ll know it was your choice that led to their deaths.”

“You wouldn’t,” she whispered, but the certainty in her voice had vanished.

“I’ve done worse for less,” he replied. “Your father knew exactly what kind of man I am. He should have warned you.”

She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of bluff or hesitation. Finding none, her shoulders slumped slightly. It was the first time he’d seen her facade crack.

“You’re a monster,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” Kostya agreed without hesitation. “And now you understand what happens to those who cross me.”

He released her wrist and held out a pen. “Sign, and they live. It’s that simple.”

He could see the calculations running behind her eyes, the desperate search for alternatives. But they both knew she had none.

With a trembling hand, she took the pen. “I’ll sign. But know this, I hate you. And I always will.”

Kostya smiled, unexpectedly charmed by her declaration. “I can live with that.”

She signed the document with sharp, angry strokes. As soon as she finished, Kostya took the contract, tucking it safely away in his desk drawer.

“A wise decision, Mrs. Nikolai,” he said, testing the sound of her new name.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

“It’s who you are now.” He stood, evaluating her with new eyes. She was no longer just the means to punish Danny Hartford; she was his wife. The thought stirred something unexpected within him.

“I’ll have someone show you to your room,” he said, pressing a button on his desk. “You’ll be given appropriate clothes and anything else you might need. Dinner will be served at seven. I expect you to be there.”

“And if I’m not?” she challenged, still defiant despite her defeat.

Kostya stepped closer, drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain. The electricity that had sparked between them earlier lingered, creating an unwelcome awareness of her proximity.

“Then I’ll come find you,” he said softly. “And you might not like what happens when I do.”

The door opened as his security chief, Viktor, appeared.

“Show Mrs. Nikolai to her suite,” Kostya instructed, never taking his eyes off Azriel. “Make sure she’s comfortable. And make sure she can’t leave.”

Viktor nodded, gesturing for Azriel to follow him.

“This isn’t over,” she promised as she walked toward the door.

“No,” Kostya agreed, a smile playing at his lips. “It’s only just beginning.”

After she left, Kostya poured himself a drink, reflecting on the unexpected turn of events.

Taking Danny Hartford’s daughter had been meant as punishment for the man, a way to make him suffer while recouping some of the losses he’d caused.

Kostya had anticipated a simpering, fearful girl, one who was easily broken and controlled.

Instead, he’d found Azriel, fierce, defiant, and strangely compelling. The electric current that had passed between them when he’d grabbed her wrists lingered in his memory, an unwelcome distraction.

His phone buzzed with a message from his brother, Fedya.

We need to talk. Something’s happening with the Italians.

Kostya frowned, tucking the phone away. Lorenzo Romano had been a valuable ally for years, but lately, whispers of dissatisfaction had been circulating, along with rumors of new alliances forming in the shadows. Another problem to deal with.

But first, he had a new wife to contend with. One who, despite all logic, had managed to intrigue him in ways he hadn’t expected.

He downed his drink, pushing away the unwelcome thoughts. Azriel Hartford, now Azriel Nikolai, was nothing more than collateral damage in a business dispute. The unexpected attraction he felt was irrelevant, a distraction he couldn’t afford.

And yet, as he prepared for dinner, Kostya found himself looking forward to seeing her again, to watching those defiant gray eyes flash with anger, to feeling that strange electric current that had shocked them both.

It was a complication he hadn’t anticipated. But then, the best battles were always the unexpected ones.