Page 22 of The Russian's Revenge Bride
“Understood.”
I didn’t tell her I’d been holding back more than she could imagine. I didn’t tell her that the excess I was containing could have burned this whole place to the ground.
She broke the silence. “And if I say no to your plan?”
“Then your father deals with me directly. And he will not like the outcome.” I moved to the door, still tasting her on my lips. “Tomorrow morning, Eleanor. Give me your answer.”
The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I leaned against it, dragging air into my lungs like I had just gone ten rounds in the ring.
This was supposed to be about revenge. About justice for the men who had died because of William Beaumont’s betrayal.
So why did it feel like I was the one being punished?
Chapter 7 – Eleanor
The door slammed shut behind Maxim, and I was left staring at the empty space where he’d been standing moments before. My lips still burned from our kiss, and my body hummed with the memory of his hands on my waist, the way he’d pressed me against that wall like he wanted to consume me whole.
Marry him. The bastard wanted me to marry him.
I touched my mouth, fingers tracing where his lips had been, and hated myself for the way my pulse quickened at the memory. This was Stockholm syndrome, had to be. Some kind of psychological break that made me crave the attention of my captor.
Except it didn’t feel like sickness. It felt like fire.
I paced the elegant prison he’d built for me, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Twenty-four hours. That was what he’d given me to decide whether I’d rather marry a monster or watch my father die.
Some choice.
The camera in the corner followed my movements with mechanical precision, and I found myself wondering if he was watching right now. If he was sitting in some control room somewhere, studying my every gesture for signs of weakness.
“Enjoying the show?” I asked the lens, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
Silence. Of course.
I collapsed onto the bed, pulling one of the throw pillows against my chest. The fabric smelled like expensive detergent and something else. Something that reminded me of Maxim’s cologne, woodsy and dark and completely masculine.
Everything in this room was a reminder that I belonged to him now, whether I’d agreed to it or not. The clothes Anya had brought me, all in my exact size. The books on the nightstand, allauthors I’d mentioned loving in interviews. The coffee, prepared exactly how I liked it.
He’d been watching me long before he’d grabbed me off that street. Studying me, learning my habits, my preferences, my weaknesses.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it sent heat pooling low in my belly.
God, I was so fucked up.
I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. The way his gray eyes had darkened when I’d told him I was a virgin. The careful control in his voice when he’d stepped back, when he’d respected my boundaries even though he could have taken whatever he wanted.
A kidnapper with a conscience. A monster who asked for consent.
I didn’t know what to do with that contradiction.
The hours crawled by. I read three chapters of a book without absorbing a single word. I did yoga stretches that did nothing to ease the tension coiled in my muscles. I stared at the ceiling and tried to make sense of a situation that defied all logic.
At some point, exhaustion should have claimed me. Should have dragged me under into dreamless sleep. Instead, I lay awake in the darkness, hyperaware of every sensation. The silk of the sheets against my skin. The whisper of my own breathing. The steady thrum of blood through my veins.
My body felt like a live wire, crackling with unspent energy and frustrated desire.
I kicked off the covers, suddenly too warm, and stared up at the camera. Its red recording light blinked steadily in the darkness, a digital eye that never closed.
Was he watching? Was he lying in his own bed somewhere in this house, unable to sleep, thinking about thekiss we’d shared? About the way I’d melted against him before I’d remembered who and what he was?