Page 4 of Twisted Proposal

My fingers closed around her wrists. "You've heard what your father and brother planned," I said. "What doyouwant?"

She refused to respond.

Accustomed to being obeyed, I leaned forward, resisting the urge to brush her hair away from her face. "Viktoria? I asked you a question."

After a long moment, the lush black fans of her lashes shifted. She lifted her gaze to clash with mine.

There was cold fury in their ocean depths.

She was something different.

Something unexpected.

She swallowed. "I—I didn't hear."

Liar. It was clear her refusal to answer had more to do with ill-advised defiance.

Her voice wavered. Not in weakness. In restraint.

My hands moved to the tops of her bare thighs, my fingertips brushing the hem of her cloth shorts as I stood. "Tell me what you want, princess."

CHAPTER2

VIKTORIA

This was a trap. It had to be. No man had ever asked what I wanted.

The question was, how did I twist this in my favor?

First, I needed a better read on this man they called Artem.

He was handsome and well-dressed, but there was a sinister coldness to him. The way he stood there, silently assessing. His eyes tracked every minuscule movement I made, cataloging weaknesses. Like a fucking snake ready to strike.

This man was not my savior. I’d be just trading one terror for another.

He sighed as he released my wrists and rose.

Despite taking a slight step back, he stayed close, towering over me, the fabric of his suit pants brushing my knees. The heat from his body radiated against my skin, a stark contrast to the bone-deep chill of the cabin.

"Returning you to your father’s…care…is not an option. So I ask again, what do you want?"

I rubbed my wrists, wincing at the raw, rope-burned flesh. I had to resist the urge to run my open palms over my thighs to erase the lingering warmth of his touch.

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "My freedom."

He raised an eyebrow. "Freedom from what?"

I looked up at him, my stomach tight with nerves as I stared into the most unusual yet alluring eyes I'd ever seen. They were a dark gray with only slight hints of blue. They reminded me of a terrible storm, where the clouds rolled in, low and threatening over water.

He was going to make me say it...out loud. My gaze flicked over to my father, who had been manhandled into a chair, and younger brother. It didn't even occur to me to plead for their safety. Fuck them.

"My family…and everything that comes with them."

The corners of his mouth lifted in just the suggestion of a smile. It never reached his eyes. If anything, he became more terrifying. "That’s not an answer. What specifically do you want to escape?"

Nothing about my situation was secure. It didn't serve to go mouthing off about what violent bastards my father and brother were if two minutes from now they were free.

Still, I didn't feel as though I had a choice. Somehow, lying to this man—this predator—didn't seem like an option. "The violence. They are...not good men…especially when they’re angry."