Page 99 of His Stolen Bride

Then he smiles.

Even now.

Even while the building shakes under the weight of his men turning. “Mikhail Morin,” he says. “You came.”

“I’m here,” I answer.

Vladimir sets the phone down slowly on the desk, like it’s a chess move. “You’re late.”

I don’t react.

Vladimir’s smile widens. “Where is she?”

“Safe,” I say.

His eyes narrow. “Safe.”

“Yes.”

He lifts his pistol slightly. “Bring her.”

“No.”

His smile twitches. “You’re making demands in my house.”

“It isn’t your house anymore,” I say.

Vladimir laughs with wild eyes. “You always liked to talk like that. Power in the tone. Control in the word choice. It’s a good illusion, but it won’t work with me.”

Enzo steps into the doorway behind me. Vladimir sees him and snickers. “Ah. The dog.”

Enzo smiles. “Bark, bark.”

Vladimir’s eyes go back to me, hungry now, like he’s feeding on the attention. “Let’s talk like men.”

“We’re talking,” I say.

He gestures with his gun toward the wall where there’s a framed map highlighting old borders and disputes. Vladimir loves history when it lets him justify being a predator. “You know what your family did in Odessa,” he says. “You know what Vienna was used for, the corridors, and the routes. The treaties that meant nothing.”

“I know,” I say.

“You married her,” Vladimir says, voice tightening. “You thought you could erase a contract with a ring.”

“I married her because my brother was dead and my enemies were watching,” I say. “You know that. That’s why you pushed.”

His eyes flash at the word brother. “Sergei was a problem.”

“You killed him because you’re petty,” I reply, keeping emotion out of the deal.

Vladimir’s smile returns. “I killed him because he got in my way.”

“And you killed her mother,” I add.

He shrugs, like he’s talking about a bill he paid. “Cleaning up loose ends. Your wife was always going to cry about something.”

Enzo makes a rough sound behind me. I feel him tense.

I keep my eyes on Vladimir. “You don’t get to speak of her like you know her.”