Page 8 of Merciless Heir


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Grasping both hands above my head, he pins me to the wall, assessing me with a long look.

“I don’t believe you. I think you like it when I’m close. Your body betrays you. I see your pulse pounding… right here.” Leaning down he runs his tongue over the vein pulsing in my neck. “Mmm. You taste good, krasotka.”

Holy shit. I should recoil from this beast, fight to escape him, yet my body sparks in a way that has nothing to do with fear. I’m frozen in place, captive in more ways than one, to this powerful man.

As if reading my thoughts, Andrei pulls back. A satisfied smirk plays on his lips, as he runs a gentle finger from my neck downwards, stopping when he encounters the bruise on my arm. The place where Oleg grabbed me earlier.

“Did Oleg do this?” His voice is low and lethal.

I consider denying it, but what’s the point? “Yes.”

“That fucking animal,” he growls.

“And you’re different?” I challenge, shaking off the spell he cast earlier. His eyes go dark, fixing on me with a devilish gleam.

“I am nothing like that animal. I have my own particular tastes, but I only take what’s given. Are we clear?” He’s hauled me up against his chest, a large hand holding the back of my neck. I swear I can hear the blood pounding through my veins, my poor heart working overtime.

“We are clear.” My whispered words push against his mouth, drawing his beautiful lips into a satisfied grin.

It’s at this moment I realize how dangerous Andrei really is. Not because he’s a soulless killer, he’s dangerous because I’m drawn to him. And nothing good can come from it.

My focus needs to be getting out of here and protecting my dad. No more falling under Andrei’s spell. It’s time to think rationally and logically. To do that, I need to keep him at a distance.

I lay a hand on his chest and attempt to push him away. He gives me one final lingering look before saying, “I like it when you see things my way.” His fingers skim my cheeks, a gentle touch before he steps away. “One more thing. Does the name Kira mean anything to you?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “Who is she?”

“That’s a story for another day.” Andrei heads for the door, then stops and turns around. “The moment you got tangled up with the Antonovs is the moment you signed away your freedom. Get a goodnight’s sleep, krasotka.”

Before my mind can register everything he’s said, he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I don’t hear the catch of a lock, but I know I am a prisoner—his prisoner. And despite his promises of safety, things are only going to get more dangerous from here.

Chapter5

GEORGIA

“Rise and shine, Georgia,” a female voice singsongs above me. Light floods the room, assaulting my eyes before I’m even fully awake. I groan and press my face into the pillow, an attempt to block out reality for a little longer. I slept fitfully last night. Every time I closed my eyes, the stress of the day would wash over me, jolting me awake. Sleep only came in the wee hours of the morning.

But alas, this overly cheerful creature standing by the bed will not be dissuaded. “Come on, there’s coffee. You Americans love your coffee first thing in the morning.”

I roll over to get a good look at my tormentor. Standing over me is a petite woman in her early sixties, by the looks of it. She's not wearing a uniform, but she definitely has a professional air about her, with stylish glasses, and silver hair pulled back into a chignon.

If I close my eyes and pray hard enough, I wonder if she’ll go away.

“I’m afraid not.” She chuckles and I realize I spoke that last thought out loud. “I’m Natalia Kashin and I work for the Kozlovs. Andrei has requested that I help you get settled in.”

Settled in? As if I am enjoying a stay at a high-end resort. These people are too much.

I sit up, curiosity chasing away the worst of my drowsiness. Settling in is precisely the last thing I plan on doing. I’ve woke with a newfound determination to get the hell out of here.

“Is Andrei, er, Mr. Kozlov available this morning?” I ask.

She smiles. “You can call him Andrei. He’s not one for formalities.” She checks her watch and as she does, another member of the household staff opens the door and wheels in a platter of food. Breakfast, I assume, from the delicious smells wafting towards me. “Andrei is attending to business matters today, but I’ll let him know you want a word when he’s back.” Another bright smile. I’d like to know why she is so damn happy working for a bunch of lethal mobsters?

“I am here to assist you with anything you may need,” she continues. “I’ve taken the liberty of having breakfast delivered. I imagine you are hungry.”

My rumbling tummy is answer enough. Natalia claps her hands together, redirecting my attention back to her. “I didn’t know what you like, so I made sure we have a bit of everything.” At the foot of the bed, stainless steel plates lift to reveal a selection of delicacies. Natalia waves her hand over the spread. “We have smoked fish served on potato pancakes; Russian black bread and fresh butter;syrniki, which is a pancake made with cheese and fruit preserves;and my very favorite,sharlotka, a simple apple cake.”

The strangeness of this situation hits me in the gut. Why does it feel like I am on vacation at some luxury resort, rather than being held captive? Gorgeous surroundings, plush bedding, a new wardrobe, and breakfast delivered to my room. With coffee!

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