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Did I really just shake hands with an Abashin?

I don’t know if I can trust him to keep his end of the bargain, but I do know I don’t have many other options here.

At least this way, I have a tiny bit of power.

I don’t just have to spend the next few months, or however long it takes Matvei to enact his plan, waiting for my own demise.

“You know he’s not going to be happy.” I’m already dreading the reaction Anton will have when I call him to set this up.

With my phone in Matvei’s possession, I have no way of knowing if he’s already called to check in on what was supposed to be a short visit with friends, but it’s a fair bet that he has.

Which means he’s heard my phone go straight to voicemail, and I’ve never been the type to ignore my phone.

Chances are, he’s already tearing through the city looking for me. Ella must be frantic.

I felt like shit lying to her in the first place, but that feeling is doubled now.

It’ll derail their plans for the city, and they were both so excited to be getting started here, making their own way in the family business.

I blew that for them. But maybe I can make something of this.

Maybe, if I manage to barter an alliance between the Abashins and the Milovs, Anton will be forced to see me as more than just a little sister.

It’s a worse deal for the family, though. The Shevchenkos have more power and more sway in this city, and that’s why we allied with them in the first place. Switching sides to the Abashins won’t look great, and it’ll cost us, but I’m married to the man.

Married. Matvei is my husband. I’m not unfamiliar with the tactic of a wedding like that, but I never thought I’d be on this side of things. I was every bit as naive as my brothers accused me of being. That changes now.

“I’m sure he will be so relieved at hearing from you that it will do something to cushion the blow. You can call them in the morning and set it up.” Matvei pulls the handcuffs from his pocket. “Now, should we go back to bed?”

It’s still the middle of the night, but there’s no way I’m getting handcuffed again just for a few hours of sleep.

“No way,” I say, shaking my head. The dog lies down at my feet, like he’s also ready for a sit-in. “If I’m helping you, I get some freedoms. No more locking me up either in my room or with cuffs.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger like I’m giving him a migraine. I hope I am. “You already tried to sneak out twice. I’m supposed to trust you not to do it a third time?”

“Don’t act like this place isn’t alarmed at every door. If I try to get out, you’ll know. What’s the harm in letting me have the run of the place? I promise I’ll behave.”

Matvei lets out a short bark of a laugh. “Don’t make promises you’re incapable of keeping, princess.”

The moniker is like salt in my wounds. It’d drive me crazy coming from one of my brothers, but it’s ten times worse coming from Matvei.

I resist the urge to smack him again, barely, and settle for a glare.

If anything, he looks amused. Now is not the time to pick a fight, so I file it away for later and try again.

Having my freedom is more important than arguing with him.

“This time, I mean it,” I swear, holding a hand to my heart. “I won’t try to escape while we’re trying to make this deal. You need me. Give me something, and I’ll make your life a little easier. What do you have to lose?”

A terse moment of silence passes as he contemplates my offer, and I’m already preparing my follow-up arguments when he nods sharply.

“Fine. For the time being, you’re free to roam about the house. But—” he says, holding up a finger before I can celebrate, “—the first time I catch you trying to escape, you’re locked in. And this office is off limits. Stay out of here and off of my computer.”

“Afraid I’ll find your porn stash?” I taunt as I get out of the chair and step away from his computer with my hands up. “I think I’ve seen everything I need to on here anyway.”

Truthfully, I’d love to get another few hours at least on this thing.

Staying here with Matvei has a few benefits, and one of those is the chance to uncover some of the Abashin plans.

If I can pass that info on to my brothers, they’ll have to see that I can be useful to the family.

They’ll have to give me more responsibility.

Despite the reality of the circumstances—being a kidnapped bride—there’s a thrill of excitement flowing through me.

Being this far away from my brothers means they can’t monitor my every movement.

I might be trapped in the Abashin house, but I’m actually doing something, and somehow, it feels like I have more agency than I ever did at home.

How fucked up is that? I’ll have to unpack it later, but for now, I’m going to do everything I can to make the most of my time here.

“You’re incorrigible,” Matvei sighs. “Do you take anything seriously?”

“Look, I said I’d do what you need me to do, but I’m still going to be me while I’m doing it. You just have to learn to accept it. After all, you married me.”

He mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite make out, but the sentiment is obvious from his pained expression.

“Now I’m going to get a few hours of sleep before breakfast.” I stretch, lifting my arms overhead. The bottom of my tank top rides up, revealing a few inches of my stomach, and I catch Matvei eyeing the bare skin there. A flush creeps over my cheeks.

“And then you’ll call your brother.” It’s not a question.

But I can’t call Anton just yet. It’ll kick off a whole sequence of events that ends with a daring Milov rescue from this place because no matter what I say right now, Anton won’t listen to me.

Neither will the rest of my brothers. They won’t trust me to negotiate this unless I come from a stronger position, and that means staying here until I establish one.

Once I’ve done that, I’ll go home.

I stall, rubbing the dog’s ears and not quite meeting Matvei’s eye. “Well, they’re all tied up at the moment. I’ll have to wait to get in touch, but yes, I already told you I’d negotiate on your behalf. Is that good enough for now? Because I’d really like to get some sleep.”

He grunts, which I guess is a yes. I wonder if he’s always this taciturn, or if it’s just with his prisoners.

Thanks to my overbearing brothers, what I know about the Abashin family is pretty limited, but it’s obvious Matvei is the head of it.

Hopefully, with enough time, I’ll be able to map out the rest of the family tree and any connections they have outside of it. That information will be valuable.

I walk past him, half expecting him to stop me as I make my way back to bed, but he lets me go. When the dog tries to follow me, Matvei whistles to him.

“Zephir, here.”

The dog stops, but doesn’t return to Matvei’s side. He calls him again. The dog sits down.

“Oh, just let him,” I say, looking down at Zephir. It would be nice to have a friend in this place.

Matvei swears and casts his eyes up to the ceiling. “Fine. Take him.”

As far as infiltrating the family goes, it feels like a pretty good first step.

***

The mansion is enormous, but to my surprise, it is mostly uninhabited. I’ve seen Timofey once or twice, but he seems to be trying to avoid me, probably afraid of a repeat escape attempt on my part.

I’ve made friends with the dogs, three giant Doberman Pinschers that guard the place.

There’s Zephir, of course, another male named Bim, and a smaller female, Malysh, who seems to run the place.

While I’m sure they’re excellent guard dogs under the right circumstances—all three certainly look ferocious enough—the trio enjoys nothing more than belly scratches and following me from room to room, practically velcroing themselves to my legs.

We play fetch in the long hallway that stretches from the kitchen to the backyard until their tongues loll out from the sides of their mouths.

I’m hoping that with enough time, I’ll be able to convince Matvei to let me take them outside for a proper game in the backyard.

The mansion is surrounded by a privacy fence that stands well above my head, judging from what I’ve seen out the window, so there’s little chance of escaping that way.

I’m lying in the den, surrounded by the three dogs, reading a book from the surprisingly well-stocked bookshelves lining the walls, when Zephir jumps up.

The other two follow and race for the front door.

Their lack of barking tells me it’s just Matvei, returning from wherever he goes during the day, and I follow after them, dog-earring the book page before tossing it onto the couch.

He walks in, crouching to greet the dogs, and I soak in the sight of him.

His t-shirt is stretched across his muscles, hugging his biceps, and instantly, I want to climb the man like a tree.

Is this Stockholm syndrome? Maybe, except I felt this way toward him before he ever took me prisoner.

It might just be lust, which is only a little less complicated given that he’s my enemy and my kidnapper.

“You’re home early,” I say, when he straightens and looks at me. His face flickers through a range of emotions I can’t read. “Is everything okay?”

Anxiety flickers in my stomach, just waiting for the word to flare into full, burning flame.

Each day I await some awful news about my family.

Cut off as I am, I have no choice but to rely entirely on Matvei for information until I’m ready to call home and broker this deal.

Soon, I tell myself. Once you have more to use.

More to bargain with. Calling Anton now would just be telling him he was right, that I’m not capable of handling myself.