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He didn’t slow his pace, nor did he respond. I tried kicking and pummeling my fists against his back, hoping someone would notice, but the streets seemed unusually quiet, the earlier vibrancy now dimmed. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour or the sudden autumnal chill that had descended upon the city.
I didn’t know, but I didn’t stop trying to somehow get away from him.
Along the way back to the car, we walked by several people, and I caught glimpses of their faces—expressions ranging from startled to deliberately indifferent. None showed any inclination to intervene; a few even stepped hurriedly aside, their eyes avoiding any sort of contact.
It was as if Maxim commanded an unspoken respect—or fear—that isolated us in a bubble of our own.
No one said anything to stop him, and I soon lost hope that anyone would.
As the car came into view, pulled over to the side of the street, the reality of my situation sank in deeper.
I may have bitten off more than I could chew with a man like Maxim Morozov.
As he put me down beside the car, his movements were controlled, almost gentle. He opened the passenger door but didn’t push me in. Instead, he stood there, watching me with an intensity that made my stomach flutter with nervousness just from the expression on his face.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” he finally said, his voice low and somewhat apologetic, “but I need you to understand the seriousness of the situation. You’re not safe on your own, not tonight and not after what happened. I can protect you, and I will. But I need your cooperation and when we get home, I’ll give you what you so desperately need.”
“I don’t need anything,” I countered, but for some reason the butterflies in my tummy went on overdrive.
What the hell did he mean?
His face remained stoic and unyielding and when I looked around him for any possibility of escape, he shook his head as if he could read my mind.
“Don’t even think about it, little girl. You’ve already made several bad decisions tonight and I’m not going to allow any more. Get in the car before I decide to deal with you out here on the street instead of the privacy of your own bedroom tonight,” he threatened.
Deal with me?
The butterflies in my stomach flew right up into my throat and I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought of him, but when his expression hardened, I thought better of it. I closed my mouth and searched his gaze, trying to find any clue as to what he meant and finding nothing.
I’d gambled and lost.
“I’m not just some little girl to be dealt with,” I muttered softly, glaring back at him as I turned toward the Range Rover and climbed back inside. The leather felt even colder against my skin, my failed escape attempt still fresh in my mind.
“We’ll see about that,” he said firmly.
He closed the door behind me and walked around to the driver’s side, slipping in next to me. I sat back with a huff and crossed my arms in front of my chest. I heard a click as he locked the doors.
I sulked.
And the goddamn bastard smiled.
CHAPTER 4
Maxim
Riley was a very, very naughty girl.
I hardly knew anything about her aside from her name, but just from knowing her for the timespan of less than an hour, I knew she was making a series of bad decisions that could ruin her life for absolutely no reason.
The first one was Gregor Orlov.
The second one was fighting my protection.
The third was running from me.
I was going to put a stop to it as soon as I got her to my home.
Despite her naughty streak, and actually maybe because of it, I felt more drawn to her than any woman I’d met since my wife passed away.
