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A moment later, there’s a knock at my door. That was quick. My legs tremble as I walk toward it. I wonder if he’ll leap on me the moment I open it, all his savage lust stowed up and ready to be unleashed.
But when I open the door, there’s a sweaty, greasy hand over my mouth. A man I don’t recognize growls something that I’m too panicked to hear and then shuts the door behind him. He drives me across the room as my heart pounds unhelpfully, and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in.
He holds me against the wall, his hand getting tighter on my mouth, his eyes wide and cruel and ready to do severe damage. “Tonight’s the night, slut. We’re taking Dimitri’s new bitch back to Daddy.” I try to speak, but he squeezes his hand tighter around my face, hurting my jaw. “You don’t need to say a goddamn thing. You only need to do what you’re told. Otherwise, what do you think will happen to little Anatoly? Or you, hmm? What thefuckdo you think will happen?”
There’s another knock at the door. The man lowers his voice. “I’ve got a gun. Make an excuse. Make him leave, or I’ll kill you both on the spot.”
He lets me go and then quietly walks into the en suite. When he shuts the door, I try to make myself brave. I try to make myself into the person I wish I were, but I can’t stop thinking about the threat. I can still taste the man’s hand: the salt, the grease, the sickness.
When I open the door, I raise my hand to stop Mikhail. He goes to kiss me immediately but stops when he bumps into my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m tired,” I say quickly. “I’m just so, so tired. I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay? Mila, it looks like you’ve been cry?—”
“I’m justtired, okay?” I snap. “Please, Mikhail.”
“What is it?”
I can’t lie to him, so I tell him a half-truth. “It’s my brother, Drake. I’m just so worried about him. Please.”
He tries to embrace me again, and I push my hand against his chest. If I let him hold me, it would be far too easy to collapse against him, to reveal everything, to beg him to help me. But what if the man, whoever he is, is telling the truth? What if he just kills us both?
When he steps back, I seize my chance and close the door. Tears start sliding down my cheeks, hot and unwelcome. I push my ear against the door, listening.
“Mila,” Mikhail says, and I quickly turn the lock. “We’ll get Drake back. We will. I promise.”
He stays there for a few minutes, and then I hear his footsteps move away. After another minute, the door to the en suite opens. The man emerges, aiming his pistol at me. “We’re going to wait here a while,” he says, “until everyone is asleep. Then you’ll walk to the other house and tell Lia you need her help.”
“With what?”
“I don’t care. Tell her the truth if you want. You’re scared for your brother. As long as you can get her out of the bedroomquietly, I’ve got everything I need tokeepher quiet after that.”
“You can’t hurt her,” I whisper.
“Can’t?” the man laughs meanly. “Mila Petrov, you clearly don’t understand the world you’re in. You clearly don’t remember where you grew up or who you grew upwith. There’s no such thing ascan’tfor us, but let’s say you take a stand. Let’s say you tell me no. All it takes is one phone call to Nikolai, and you’ll never see your little brother again.”
CHAPTER 12
MIKHAIL
In my bedroom, I lie down and stare at the ceiling, too wired to sleep. Instincts war inside of me. Some of them yell I should be with my brother, while others tell me to find Mila and convince her to speak to me about her agony and stress. Yet why should she? We’re strangers. I should let go if she wants to cry alone in her room.
She looked at me like I was a monster when she saw me carrying Ania. For a split second, she thought she’d kissed and been intimate with a woman killer. It makes me sick.
Standing up, I pace the floor, rolling my shoulders like I’m getting ready for a fight. There’s too much tension in me. I need my lady. I need?—
“Help! Help!”
A female voice screams in the night. It’s coming from the other house. Is it Mila? I’m not sure. Itcouldbe, and that’s all that matters.
“The second house! There’s a man here with a gun!”
Immediately, I spring to my feet, rushing through the mansion, taking the stairs three at a time as I sprint for the front door. As I run onto the compound’s grounds, I see strong flashlights zigzagging as the guards holding them sprint for the house. By the time I reach the porch, Denis and another Sokolov are dragging a man I recognize from the front door. His feet trail between the two men, his head hanging low.
“What happened?” I ask Denis.
He hesitates, and then I growl, “WHAT HAPPENED?!?!”
