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I shake my head as I realize I can’t risk hitting him again. I can’t afford to add another powerful name to my list of enemies. Sergey Gargarin should stay Dimitri’s problem, not become mine.
Yakov straightens up. “You should.” He rushes at me like a maddened bull.
I take hold of his collar and shove him as hard as I can. His head bounces against the concrete wall. The second he falls back, I strike him again, immediately jumping away from his reach. A blow to his temple sends him crashing to the ground.
Though I’m not done with him, I also don’t want to kill him. Once he wakes up, he’ll understand that taking vengeance against me has a price.
I lean down and check his pulse. Finding it strong, I step back and kneel next to Katarina.
Her limp body twitches when I slide my arms under her form.
“Easy, serdtse,” I mutter when she whimpers. “I’m taking you home.”
FOURTEEN
KATARINA
Even before I open my eyes, I know something’s terribly wrong.
My head is throbbing and there’s an acidic taste on my tongue.
I lie for a long moment, trying to remember. Images of the nightclub come to me, but the evening is one big blur.
When I finally open my eyes, it takes me a few seconds to realize I’m not at home. The walls are bare and painted white. An expensive Persian rug adorns the floor, which besides the king-sized bed, is the only other thing in the room. That and the dim LED lights along the ceiling.
There are two doors. One is cracked open, allowing me a glimpse of a bathroom. The other is closed, probably locked. There are no windows to give me an idea of what time it is or where I am.
Panicking is my first reaction. I jump up and cry out in frustration when no one answers my banging on the door. After a few hits, my fist burns, but I don’t stop, screaming.
Nothing.
Strands of my hair get caught on my sticky face as I try to look for a way out. But there are no hooks to pull out or spots to damage.
Everything is made of solid oak. There’s no mistaking this luxury for anything but the inside of someone’s home.
Oh my god, was I kidnapped?
I recall being at the club with Mila, flirting with a blond man. And then everything turned dark. He slipped something in my drink, that son of a bitch.
But why? I would’ve gone home with him willingly.
The more I think about it, the more I feel like throwing up. It’s not just because of the memory. I’m also feeling hot.
I start to pant and strip off the clothes sticking to my heated body. My stomach twists, heat burning me on the inside.
It feels like someone set my blood on fire.
I run to the bathroom, relieved to find a shower stall. With shaking fingers, I adjust the settings and get inside. Cold water helps to wake me up.
As the flow calms my racing heart and gives me a reprieve from the heat, another wave of memories hits me.
The blond guy was Yakov Gargarin.
It wouldn’t have been enough for him to take me home and fuck me.
He wants to hurt me as revenge for his sister.
The new, still-unfamiliar feeling seeps into me like poison.
