Page 3

This cannot be happening. There’s no way he should know who I am. I never even told him my first name, let alone my last, so whatever this man wants with me, I know it’s not good. My mind spins through the most likely options: a hit or a kidnapping. This was obviously targeted.

Part of me doesn’t want to believe it. Just a moment ago, this man was kissing me like I was the only thing in the world, his hands all over me like he couldn’t keep away, and it was all just part of a plot?

Fuck this guy. All the lust that was flooding my body a moment ago gets swept away in a torrent of pure rage.

If he thinks this is going to be easy, he’s got another thing coming.

I may be the smallest, youngest member of the Milov family, but I’m still a Milov. Raised by my brothers, I know how to shoot, how to fight, and how to defend myself. He might be more than twice my size, but I’m not afraid to fight dirty.

Before he can move, I bring the heel of my stiletto down onto his instep, hard. Hard enough that the heel snaps, but it gives me a moment of reprieve, his hands loosening, and I start to pull away.

“I don’t think so,” he says, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me back.

With my free hand, I swing at his face, hoping to connect with his nose, but he ducks to one side and dodges my hit.

Shit. The fight isn’t over yet, though—I know I can do this; I can get free.

Getting kidnapped right now, when I just insisted that I could handle myself, is just about the worst thing I can imagine. Anton will never let me live it down.

“Let go of me!” I shout, hoping to draw attention from anyone leaving the club.

I never should’ve walked down this alley with him, farther away from people who could help if something went south.

Stupid. I can’t believe I thought this guy just liked me for me, and that I kind of liked him back.

Embarrassment flushes my cheeks, but I shove it aside—my pride can wait; right now, I just need to break free.

He has other plans. His grip on my arm is unbreakable, and it’s obvious how easy it is for him to hold on to me, like I’m a toy poodle pulling at the end of a leash. Those muscles of his are not just for show.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he warns, yanking me close and wrapping his arm around my face, the huge bicep smothering my mouth and nose. “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re just going to take a little trip.

Never go to a secondary location. That basic piece of self-defense logic repeats itself over and over in my mind, but does nothing to stop him from dragging me down the alley in the opposite direction from the nightclub and my last hope for rescue.

He’s probably not lying; I’m worth more to him alive than dead, but I have no illusions that the little trip he’s talking about will be at all pleasant for me.

I bite down on his bicep and throw myself backward, trying to slam the back of my head into his nose.

“Fuck,” he curses, but he only tightens his grip on me, shaking off my bite like it’s nothing. The bastard is so tall that my head only slams against his chest, leaving me dazed and him completely unfazed. “You’re a fiery one.”

My screams are completely muffled by his arm, and my heels drag uselessly against the filthy stones of the alley. Suddenly, I’m weightless, picked up like a child and shoved into the backseat of a car. Crumpled and disoriented, I can barely straighten up before the car starts to move.

Only then does he remove his arm from where it covers my mouth, and I sit up, gratified to see that he at least looks a little rumpled from the encounter.

“My brothers are going to kill you,” I spit at him.

He brushes a bit of dirt from his trousers, completely unbothered. “Give me your hands.”

“Not a fucking chance.”

He sighs and pulls a piece of cord from the side of the door, because, of course, he’s got a kidnap kit just ready to go. Total asshole.

Dangling the black length of it in front of me, he says, “You can be bound and conscious, or unbound and knocked out. Lady’s choice.”

“A real gentleman.” I push my wrists together and shove them toward him, staring daggers the entire time.

He takes his time, carefully binding my wrist in a complicated knot that leaves no wiggle room but thankfully doesn’t pinch.

I take it this is not his first time. He’s surprisingly gentle.

Once my wrists are bound, he tucks a rogue lock of hair behind my ear and laughs when I try to bite his finger.

I spot my clutch beside him. If he gets distracted at all, I can try and dig my phone out and at least send some sort of message to Anton. He’s on my speed dial, so it’s only a few button presses. All I need is a moment. He follows my gaze.

Shaking his head, he pulls my phone from the clutch and powers it off. “We don’t need anyone tracking us, do we? I wouldn’t want our time together to be cut short.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have been so obvious.

“Next comes the blindfold?” I ask, leaning over to see what else he has in the door pocket, but it’s too dark, and he’s too big to see past.

Matvei nods and pulls a black cloth from beside him. “I prefer for it to be a surprise, you understand.”

I roll my eyes. “Kidnapper’s playbook. Nothing about this is a surprise. Why don’t we just skip to the part where you bring me back and get a fat pile of money in exchange? It’ll save us both some trouble.”

He laughs a low, deep rumble that does all sorts of things to my insides. “Lean forward.”

I give him one last venomous look before he settles the blindfold over my eyes. All of my other senses switch into high gear, and I smell his now-familiar smoky scent, feel the bump of the car hitting a pothole, and sense the heat of him beside me.

“Settle in. We’ll be driving a while.”

With no other choice, I curl up in the seat and realize I’m still wearing his jacket.

***

“We’re here,” he says, finally.

It’s impossible to get truly comfortable with my wrists bound, and the ache in my head tells me it’s way past my usual bedtime, probably nearing the early hours of the morning, but I can’t see through my blindfold to check if the sun is coming up.

The car rolls to a stop, and I prepare myself for the inevitable.

A big drafty warehouse or some sketchy-as-hell hideout, probably nasty concrete floors and maybe a bag of chips for food, if I’m lucky.

I raise my wrists. “Time to untie me so I can get out of this car on my own?”

He scoffs. “Nice try, but I don’t mind carrying you.”

The car door opens and closes, and I scoot away from my door in preparation for him to open it, which he does a second later.

“Come on.” He puts one hand on the top of my head to guide me out of the car.

My feet hit the ground, and I wobble, off balance, as my broken heel makes contact. “Those were expensive,” I complain.

“Serves you right for trying to stab me with it,” he replies, snaking one hand around my waist.

I hobble along beside him, feeling anything but dignified, especially since I’m still wearing his coat.

I’m grateful for it, though. My tiny dress offers even less protection against whatever is coming next, so as much as I hate having something of his draped all over me, I’m not about to peel it off.

He guides me up three steps and through a doorway. Surprisingly, there’s none of the stale, musty stink that I expect. It smells faintly like incense and wood. The friction against my soles tells me I’m walking on carpet now. Weird.

“Hold still a second,” Matvei says, and I feel his warm bulk move behind me. He unties the blindfold, and I blink against the sudden light.

We’re in a tiny, shabby church lit by a chandelier and a few white taper candles. A bald man stands in front of us. I gasp and look to Matvei. He steadies me with one hand on my shoulder and raises his eyebrows.

“Not what you expected?”

“This is not happening,” I insist. I’m not an idiot. I know what this is.

He’s going to force me to marry him.

Well, he doesn’t know how stubborn I am. There’s no way he’s getting an “I do” out of me, and there’s nothing he can do to change my mind.

The bald man looks at Matvei, hesitating. “Should I…”

“Give us a minute,” Matvei snaps, pulling me in close and ducking low to my ear.

The officiator turns his back. I have no doubt he’s part of whatever is going on here or at least being paid handsomely to ignore what is clearly a coercive situation.

I glare up at him. “Go fuck yourself.”

His smile is wicked. “You still think you’re in control here, don’t you? Despite your circumstances. It’s almost admirable.”

Indignant, I twitch toward him before remembering my hands are bound and I can’t give him the slap he deserves. All I do is stumble into him, thanks to my broken heel, and he catches me with ease.

My face is burning. I cast about for something, anything I can do in this situation. There’s no way I can outrun him, and I know there’s at least one other of his crew out there because someone drove us. The door is probably guarded.

“I can see those wheels turning,” he goes on, reaching to take my chin between his fingers. Again, his touch is gentle, and I can’t shake the memory of his hands all over me. “Give it up. You don’t have any choice here.”

“You can’t force me to marry you.” The thought of being wed to this man makes me sick. He might be hot as the devil himself, but he’s a bastard through and through.

He clucks his tongue. “That’s where you’re wrong, Anya. I don’t need to drag you to the altar, I just need to remind you that I know enough about your family to endanger those you care about. One sweet Ella, perhaps? It seems you two have become rather close since she met your brother.”

Of course, he’s not going to target one of my brothers. It’s easier to go after Ella, who is completely new to this life and has tried to stay out of it for as long as she could.

He means it, too. There’s nothing soft about this man, evidenced by his duplicity in getting me here. If he can get to me, he can get to her.

“Fine.” I want to snatch the word back the moment it falls from my lips. Dread clamps around my chest.

He snaps his fingers, and the officiant returns. The man stammers through a truncated ceremony, not once looking up from his papers, and in minutes, Matvei and I are pronounced husband and wife.

“Don’t even think about kissing me,” I hiss.

He holds up his hands. “As you say, wife.” He smooths his thumb over his bottom lip. “But I can still taste you.”

I stifle a scream of rage and instead start making a list of everything I’m going to do to this man once I’m free. It gets bloodier the longer I go, sustaining me through yet another blindfolded car ride with Matvei sitting silent beside me.

This time, when the blindfold comes off, I’m outside a mansion. It’s huge—multiple stories of tan stucco topped with a terracotta clay roof, surrounded by impeccable landscaping. Palm trees sway on either side of the front door, which opens as we approach.

Matvei nods at the man letting us in and greets him in Russian. I guess I’m not getting introduced. He marches me through a white foyer and up the stairs. Through the immense windows, I can see the ocean behind the house and the first blush of sunrise.

He opens the door to a bedroom and tugs me inside, shutting the door behind us.

The voices and footsteps of whoever else lives here cut off abruptly.

I’m alone with him again. I take in the room to give myself time to think.

The bed is huge, and the room is tastefully decorated, mostly in cream with touches of deep blue. They must’ve hired someone.

I’m not an idiot, despite what he might think.

I know I don’t have any control over this situation, but maybe there’s a way to take at least some of the power back.

To gain a tiny bit of advantage. It goes against every instinct in my body that says this man is a monster, but I lick my lips and look up at him.

“Alone again,” I say, knowing that he won’t be able to resist thinking about our moment in the alley. He might’ve been using seduction to get to me, but that hard cock I felt in my hands wasn’t part of the game. He’s attracted to me, and I’m going to use it.