Page 83 of Twisted Proposal

Part of me found that exciting, even exhilarating, and I'd have been fine playing her little game if she didn't keep putting herself in danger. If the stakes weren't so damned high.

"You could have been taken, tortured, killed, or worse," I spat, each word a bullet. "Your father was a piece of shit who owed a lot of dangerous people a lot of money. If given half a fucking chance, they will use you to pay his debts. Is that what you want?"

Her eyes went wide with horrified realization for a moment, and then she bowed her head.

The car was dark, the interior illuminating when we passed under streetlights, the harsh yellow glow slashing across her face in rhythmic intervals. For a second, I thought I saw a tear fall from her cheek to her lap, a diamond catching the light before it disappeared into the darkness of her jeans. When we passed the next streetlight, it was gone. Replaced by the same stubborn determination that made my cock ache against the confines of my pants.

"Fine, I'll go back to the apartment, and I will only go to class and back," she conceded, her voice small but still edged with defiance.

I tipped my head back and laughed, the sound scraping my throat raw. How stupid did she think I was?

"No, princess, you have lost that apartment. We're going to a safe house, and you will be punished. One more word from you before we get there and I'm going to bend you over my knee in this fucking car."

Her eyes darted to my driver and then to Ivan, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, ready to deal with whatever punishment I gave him for letting her escape in the first place. His shoulders were rigid with tension, jaw tight as he stared straight ahead.

She crossed her arms over her chest, the action pushing her breasts up, and slumped back into the seat, staring out the window at the blurred city lights.

It was fine. She could sulk all she wanted. It wouldn't change a goddamn thing.

The rest of the drive was silent, tense, the air in the car thick with unspoken threats and promises.

I spent it sending texts to Pavel and Kostya. They had a lead on the guns and as soon as it was confirmed, we were going to go get the arms back, satisfy our contract with the Colombians and, if he was there, I was going to kill Solovyov myself. Just for the fun of it. Just to feel his life drain away under my hands.

This had gone too far. It ended now.

Pavel also had his orders to deal with Ivan. He wasn't a bad kid, but he fucked up and there needed to be consequences. If I were the one to handle it now, he wouldn't survive. My rage would demand blood, not just pain.

So Pavel was going to deal with it. While I dealt with my little escape artist. I hadn't decided exactly how I was going to punish her yet, but it would be brutal. She wouldn't be forgetting this one anytime soon. The memory would be carved into her flesh and soul.

Pavel had arranged for Viktoria and me to stay on Gregor's estate. A quiet cabin that was part of Damien's property and was far enough into the woods for privacy, but close enough to be under the same surveillance and security protocols.

She would be safe there, and there was absolutely nowhere for her to go.

No trains to catch, no streets to disappear into, no strangers to help her escape the monster who claimed her.

It was a little after eleven when we finally pulled up, gravel crunching under the tires. Viktoria was pretending to have fallen asleep against the window, her breath deliberately slow and even, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away.

"Get up," I said, grabbing the back of her head, fisting her silken hair.

If she thought the drive down here was going to be enough to soothe my rage, she was seriously mistaken. If anything, it only let my anger fester, building pressure like a volcano ready to erupt.

CHAPTER27

ARTEM

Ihad thought about every monster her father had pissed off or owed money to.

The list was extensive, each name attached to a face more brutal than the last.

Then every single asshole that would love to take a shot at me.

Not just Solovyov. There were others.

None who were genuine threats to me, but if they got their slimy hands on Viktoria, she'd never be the same. Assuming she survived at all.

With my hand tangled in her hair, I led her into the living room and ripped her small weekend bag out of her hands, throwing it across the room where it hit the wall with a satisfying thud.

"What are you doing?" she cried as I pulled her toward the bedroom, her feet dragging on the polished hardwood floor.