Page 6

Those pajamas were a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought them. Probably that I wouldn’t be attracted to Anya Milov, wouldn’t sense every shift of her body weight in the bed beside me, and wouldn’t be fighting a hard-on that would be impossible to hide in these pants.

The silk clings to the peaks of her nipples, and those shorts barely cover the long lines of her legs, which are stretched out and crossed in front of her.

Worst part is, I know exactly how good it would feel to slide my hands up those legs.

It’s torture sitting this close to her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the tank top.

Handcuffing myself to her was an impulsive decision, but after her stunt with Timofey, I obviously can’t trust her to behave on her own.

Everything hinges on her. She’s my bargaining chip, and if she escapes now, my plan will crumble before I can leverage her against the Milovs.

Breaking the alliance with the Shevchenkos is the only chance I have to take control of Miami, and if that means torturing myself in bed with Anya, I’ll just have to handle it.

Now that I have her and she’s officially my wife, I can bully the Milovs into breaking the alliance, force them to align with us instead, or at the very least, threaten Anya’s life until they have no choice but to pull out of the city.

She’ll never forgive me for using her like that, but that’s the least of my concerns right now. Being the good guy was never my goal.

She flips through the pages of the book I gave her, her dark hair falling forward to conceal the side of her face, and I force my eyes back down to the pages of my own.

It’s impossible to concentrate with the temptation sitting beside me.

But I won’t take advantage of the situation, not like that.

Even if she is attracted to me, and I doubt it, given what I’ve done to her, having sex with her while we’re cuffed like this, while she’s my prisoner, would be a disgusting abuse of power.

I might be a criminal, but I have my limits.

Finally, after my third time scanning the same page, I give up on reading and put the book down on the table.

Anya stirs beside me, but doesn’t say a word.

I think she’s giving me the silent treatment.

Childish, but no less than I’d expect from the spoiled brat of the Milov family.

I can’t dismiss her that easily, though, not when I’ve seen that spitfire side of her.

She might be a princess, but there’s more to her than that, and I get the feeling that underestimating her would be a costly mistake.

Anya puts her book aside and turns the lamp off, flooding the room with darkness.

I can only see the shadow of her now, and feel her shift to lie down, putting tension on the cuffs.

It takes some maneuvering, but we manage to get beneath the blankets and situate ourselves, with no choice but to lie facing one other.

The short chain makes turning the other direction impossible.

My eyes adjust to the low light, and I can make out the pale curve of her face on her pillow. Her blue eyes are open and looking into mine with what can only be described as loathing. Unfortunately, my own emotions are more complicated than that.

Sleep seems impossible with the churning lust inside of me, fueled by the accidental brush of her legs against mine.

I force my eyes shut. Every shift of her weight has me on high alert.

Primal instinct rails against my restraint, demanding that with a woman like Anya in my bed, the last thing we should be doing is sleeping.

She’d rather plunge a knife in your gut than touch you again , I remind myself, over and over until finally, sleep comes.

***

I wake alone. My sleep-fogged brain struggles to make sense of what should be impossible, but I sense the emptiness of the bed before I even open my eyes to confirm what I already suspect—Anya is gone.

The empty half of her cuffs lies beside me in the bed, the other half still secure around my wrist. Stupidly, I check my pocket. The key is gone.

Idiot. I never should’ve kept it on me, but I didn’t think she’d dare to search my pockets and risk getting caught.

I underestimated her again. How long has she been gone?

If she escapes now, my whole plan is ruined, and I’ve just put a giant target on the Abashins, giving the Milovs a reason to try and destroy us.

With the Shevchenkos supporting them, there’s no way we’d be able to survive.

I get to my feet and do a quick scan of the room, checking the bathroom just to make sure I’m not overreacting. Empty. Shit.

The house is silent and dark as I step out of the bedroom.

The guard dogs aren’t barking, but that doesn’t mean much.

She could be long gone. Or, she could still be in the house.

With no way of knowing how long she’s been uncuffed, I start by searching the house.

Most of the upstairs rooms are locked, but I check a few empty bedrooms and the lounge before heading down the stairs.

Zephir, one of the Dobermans, is lying in the entryway. He jumps up when I come in and presses himself against my legs, the nub of his tail wagging back and forth. I rub his ears.

“See anything tonight, Zeph? Perhaps a leggy, troublesome woman skulking about where she shouldn’t be?”

He huffs, but seems content to go back to sleep.

The guard dogs are trained to keep people out, not to keep people in, and they wouldn’t treat Anya as an intruder if she walked by.

I leave him in the entry and keep searching room by room, picking up the pace when I find each one empty.

My stomach sinks when I realize she’s probably not here.

But I don’t know how she could’ve gotten out without triggering the alarm system or setting off the dogs, not unless she’s a hell of a lot more trained than I realized.

One last room. I push open my office door, and there she is, sitting at my computer desk. Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived. My computer is quite locked down, but there’s a chance she’s seen something she shouldn’t have on it.

“You have a habit, wife,” I say, coming around to her side of the desk, “of not staying where I leave you.”

She spins the chair to face me, and there isn’t a hint of remorse on her face. The spitfire is back.

“And you, husband,” she sneers, “have an awful habit of keeping me in the dark. Don’t you think spouses should tell each other everything?”

What exactly did she find there? It goes without saying that I’ve been keeping secrets from her—plenty of them—but some are worse than others. The entire Abashin business scheme runs off that computer.

She tries to spin her chair back around, but I stop it, catching her with the side of my leg.

I glance at the screen, taking my eyes off of her for a second, and see she’s pulled up my financial spreadsheets.

It could be worse, but I still don’t know how long she’s been digging or what else she’s found.

“I think you’ll find we’re well in the black.” I nod toward the screen, itching to move her aside so I can see what else she’s brought up on it.

Her chin lifts in defiance. “You’re a fucking Abashin.”

Well, damn. That was a secret I’d been hoping to keep for a while longer. I can practically watch the gears spinning in her mind as she connects all of the dots.

Feigning a nonchalance I definitely don’t feel, I lean against the desk. “Guilty. What else did you dig up during your midnight snooping session? Honestly, Anya, I’m finding it difficult to trust you. Sneaking out twice in the first twenty-four hours? I’m going to have to go to extreme measures.”

The door creaks open, and the tip of a brown snout pokes into the room, followed by the rest of Zephir. He pads right past me and lays his head in Anya’s lap. Reflexively, she starts to pet him.

“You’re the only good boy in this whole house, you know that?

” she says to the traitor, before turning back toward me.

“Your entire plan was pretty obvious the second I figured out who you are. Abashin. Tiny little upstart family trying to make big waves, but you can’t seem to get your feet beneath you with the Shevchenkos in town, can you? ”

I cross my arms. Bullseye. I can’t help but be a little impressed at how sharp she is, but not enough to dull how pissed I am that she snuck out. Again. When I don’t speak, she goes on.

“Since you obviously already know about the alliance between the Shevchenkos and my family, and you know you’re too weak to take either of us head-on, you decided to play dirty,” she says, sitting back in the chair like she’s a CEO holding court.

“Kidnap me and use me as a bargaining chip to drive the Milovs and Shevchenkos out of Miami. Now, since you decided to marry me, rather than ransom me, I’m guessing your goal is an alliance with the Milovs, if you can swing it.

At least until you can drive the Shevchenkos out of the city. Am I on the right track?”

“So far,” I admit, because there’s no point in denying it now. She’s not stupid enough to believe whatever lie I’d come up with.

She holds Zephir’s head in her hands, finally dropping her gaze from mine, and for the first time, there’s a hint of something like fear in her voice.

“But the Abashins are ruthless, from what I’ve heard.

I think after you achieve that, you plan to get rid of me and push the Milovs out, too.

Based on what I saw, you’re not content with sharing the city. ”

Another bullseye. Only, I didn’t plan on the complication that is Anya Milov and my own nagging guilt when it comes to her, never mind the problematic attraction.

“That might have been the original plan, yes.”

She stands and shoves me, hands on my chest. “You’re a complete asshole, you know that? I’m not a bargaining chip for you to use and throw away. I’m a person, Matvei.”

I catch her hands and stop her from shoving me again, because I don’t want Zephir to think she’s attacking me and go on the defensive.

Not that the dog shows any sign of that.

He’s leaning against her legs, looking between the two of us like he’s not sure where his loyalties lie.

Unfortunately, I understand his dilemma.

Maybe there’s another way this can work. A way to get the Abashins on top without sacrificing Anya.

“Enough,” I say, cutting her off. “There’s another way we can go about this, if you’re willing.”

That stops her struggle, and she looks up at me, cautious. “What’s that?”

“Help me broker the alliance with the Milovs.” It’s a gamble, but I think I’ve put together a few pieces of her puzzle during our time together. This isn’t a woman who’s content being the mascot of the family. She wants more. “As my wife.”

Her mouth opens, then snaps shut. She sits back down. “Work with you?”

She’s intrigued, so I press on. “Arrange a meeting with your brother, one that doesn’t result in an ambush, and start the conversation. You can be more than a bargaining chip, if you’re willing.”

I watch her mull it over and hold my breath, waiting for her answer. It’s a reach, asking her to help the people who just kidnapped her, but it also gives her back some agency. Maybe it’ll even keep her from trying to escape every goddamn second so I can get some real sleep.

The crease between her brow smooths, and she smiles a small, mischievous smile that tells me there’s more trouble in my future. “It’s a deal.”