Page 6

Matthias

The woman, Margot, starts screaming again. I whirl around and pin her against the wall, caging her between my arms.

She’s shaking. She’s hysterical… or pretending to be.

I can’t tell if it’s an act. Did I just kill two Bratva men in front of an innocent civilian… or did I just kill her accomplices?

They were here to take me, which is fucking ridiculous if they thought the two of them were enough. But the real question is, why does Viktor want me?

“You… you… killed… dead…” She stammers, eyes wide with shock.

This girl is either a really good actress, or I just severely fucked up.

“Calm down. Take a deep breath. They were going to kill us if I didn’t kill them. It was self-defense.” I keep my voice steady, trying to calm her. If she is Bratva, she’s probably laughing on the inside right now.

Once her breathing evens out, I start questioning her.

“Are you with them?” I demand .

Her eyes bug out, and she looks at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind.

“No! Of course not! Why the hell would I be with them?” she snaps, completely baffled.

“You called them over. And you expect me to believe you and they were following me for separate reasons.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.

” She glares at me. “You left your card. I was bringing it to you as a good deed . Then you attacked me. Then you attacked those men. Then you killed those men. And now you’re blaming me ?

” She huffs. “It’s the twenty-first century, Mr. Montclair.

We left victim-blaming behind in the twentieth century. Get with the program.”

Then she has the gall to roll her eyes at me. As if she didn’t just witness me kill two men.

I’m stunned silent for a full minute.

Who the hell is this spitfire?

“Fine, let’s say you’re telling the truth–”

“I am!” she interrupts, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I narrow my eyes. Who the hell is this girl?

“–then what happened once you followed me? Why didn’t you give me my card?”

“I… you… phone… Roman… call.”

I smirk. Gotcha.

“You heard my phone call with Roman?”

Her face blanches. “Absolutely not! I didn’t hear anything! I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about! I didn’t hear you talk to Roman about killing someone! I swear I don’t know anything! I didn’t hear anything!”

She’s spiraling. I can see the moment she realizes she’s incriminated herself, because she panics .

“I won’t tell anyone anything, Mr. Montclair! I don’t even know anything! I mean, what you and Roman do is your business. I’ll mind my business, you’ll mind yours, and you definitely don’t have to worry about me!” She’s hysterical again. “Please let me keep my tongue!”

I blink.

What the fuck is she talking about?

The more she scrambles to assure me she didn’t hear anything, the more convinced I am that she did.

I go over the conversation with Roman in my mind.

Shit.

She heard too much.

Hell, she just named Roman and me. How does she know who I am? I’m not sure I’m buying the credit card story. But she doesn’t look Russian, or Italian, or even like she’s ever committed a crime, but the best spies blend in.

“How do you know my name?” My tone stays even and cold.

Her eyes dart to her hand, still holding the Amex. “It’s on your card. I read it when I was leaving the shop.” She thrusts the card up like it’s evidence.

I snatch it from her hand and slide it into my pocket. I don’t give her an inch of space to escape. My arm comes back up, keeping her trapped.

What the fuck am I going to do with you?

I can’t let her go.

Best-case scenario? She’s just an innocent bystander who witnessed way too much. Worst-case scenario? She’s with the Bratva, and the moment I drop my guard, she’ll come at me.

But I’m starting to suspect she’s telling the truth. Viktor would have to be a moron to send her to get me. Unless he sent her to seduce me.

If I can’t let her go, that only leaves one option.

I have to take her.

But where? And for how long?

I just need enough time to think. We can’t linger in this alley. Someone might find us. She hasn’t fought me yet, but I know it’s coming.

She looks like a fighter.

The thought has my dick twitching.

Not the time or place, Matthias Junior.

I take my first real look at her.

She’s short, maybe five foot four at most. Thick, curly light brown hair that looks too soft not to touch flows around her shoulders. I have to stop myself from picking up a piece. Big brown eyes. Fair skin, with a blush creeping up her face and neck. And fucking freckles. Stunning.

And her lips? Plump. Rosy. Perfect for biting.

I let my gaze drop and nearly groan. Fuck .

She’s in a sweatshirt and those tight, athletic, spandex pants that chicks wear. They look absolutely provocative on her. I need to see her ass in them. I know it’ll be sinful.

She’s all curves. Soft. Plush. She’s small enough that I can toss her around, but thick enough that I won’t have to worry about breaking her.

An image flashed through my mind of me, throwing her onto my bed, gripping her hips, pounding into her until she’s screaming my name.

“You could let me go,” she says sweetly. “I promise I won’t say anything about anything.”

The fantasy vanishes.

After months of not being interested in any women, why is this the time Matthias Junior decides to make an appearance?

It’s this woman. She’s downright stunning .

I drag my gaze back to her. She looks up at me with those big eyes full of hope.

Once I process what she said, I have to hold back a laugh. It’s cute she thinks she has a chance of getting away from me.

“That’s not going to happen, sweetheart. I need you to come with me.”

I give her my signature grin. The one that’s gotten me plenty of women.

She smiles back. “Oh, that’s quite alright. I think I’ll just go back and get my coffee. I’m supposed to meet my boss. He’s probably looking for me.”

She says it so sweetly, so innocently, that if I didn’t catch the slight edge to her stare, I’d believe her.

Maybe her boss is waiting for her, but he’s getting stood up today.

“Let’s go. You’re coming with me.” This time, it’s a command.

It must set her off because before I know it, she’s pushing me, trying to escape.

She shoves at my chest, but she’s not nearly strong enough to make me budge. Even through my button-up, her hands scorch me.

I grab her wrists with one hand and pin them against the brick above her head. She starts struggling in full earnest, shimmying around, trying to break free.

With every move, she rubs against me, her tits pressing into my chest. She doesn’t seem to notice.

But Matthias Junior sure as hell does.

This should not be making me hard.

I’m not some sick fuck that gets off on forcing women. Every woman I’ve been with has wanted me. Has practically begged for my cock .

I step aside just in time, dodging a knee aimed straight for my balls.

See, I knew she was a fighter.

I can’t stop my grin.

“No! You can’t take me! I won’t go with you! You’re a killer!” she yells. “Let go of me, you sick bastard!”

Luckily, the street is far enough away and the traffic too loud for anyone to hear her. But we need to get moving before someone steps out of the building.

She stomps on my foot hard.

Fucking hell. She just crushed my genuine leather loafers.

I bite back a curse, but she’s already gearing up to do it again.

“That’s enough!” I say exasperatedly.

I grab her waist and throw her over my shoulder.

My muscles protest at the sudden movement. “Not warmed up for this shit.” I grunt.

She scoffs . “Seriously? If I’m too heavy for you, then just let me go.”

I laugh at that. “Spitfire, I could bench double your weight. You’re not even close to heavy. Plus, I like some meat on my women.”

To prove my point, I pat her ass.

She inhales sharply, caught off guard. If she were in front of me right now, she’d see just how much I like her jiggly body.

“No! Someone! Help me!” she screams.

I shift her slightly so she can see my gun in my waistband.

“If anyone comes over and tries to help you, I will shoot them.” My deadly voice leaves no room for doubt. “You know I’ll do it. You just saw me do it to these two. Do you want more blood on your hands?”

I channel Roman, making sure I sound as merciless as possible .

“And I’ll cut out your tongue,” I add just because that part of the conversation really seemed to stick with her.

She freezes.

A few beats of silence pass before she mutters through gritted teeth, “Fine. Can I at least walk? This is uncomfortable.”

Her voice strains. My shoulder digging into her stomach must be making it hard to breathe.

Letting her walk makes this a whole lot easier for me. Dragging a screaming, flailing woman to my car would have been a pain in the ass. But I’m not going to let her know that.

“Yes, but only if you promise to behave.” My sharp tone makes it sound like a concession, not a favor. “If you try to run, I will shoot you. If you so much as cause one person to look our way, I will shoot them. It’s their life in your hands. Do you understand me?”

She nods stiffly.

I nudge her and she takes the cue to start walking.

She behaves the few blocks to my car. Besides the tear stains down her cheeks, she looks normal enough. To anyone watching, we just look like a couple having a fight.

I like the sound of that.

Us , a couple .

Her , as mine .

Just the thought of having a claim to this spitfire makes me hard. The thought of her as mine makes something dark and possessive curl in my chest.

What the hell am I thinking?

This is not a date.

We are not a couple.

She is a witness . I have to take her.

But a small part of me is excited to have her.