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A chill runs down my spine as I stare at my hands. On the ring finger of my left hand is a tattoo, something written in script.
Shakily, I lift my hand to read it. On two distinct lines, it reads: Property of Dimitri Kozlov.
Cold dread washes through me, only to be replaced by hot fury a few seconds later. At that exact moment the devil himself walks out of the ensuite bathroom. He’s dripping wet, a towel wrapped low on his hips.
My furious gaze sweeps over him, taking in the swollen eye, busted lip, and myriad bruises peppering his muscular torso. Black ink tattoos cover both his arms, his chest, and run up his neck. Briefly, I drop my eyes to the deep V that disappears beneath his towel.
“Like what you see, kisa?” he asks, his voice grates on my frayed nerves.
“No,” I snap, and the smug grin on his lips vanishes. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but you will return me to my home. Promptly.”
“This is your home now.” He steps into the closet and lets his towel drop to the floor.
My lips part in outrage. Does he have no decency?
That’s a stupid question to even consider. Of course he has no decency, he’s a psychopath. He’s… the leader of the Russian mafia, a cold-hearted killer, and the man who’s been stalking me. He kidnapped me last night.
His chuckle draws my attention to his face, and I realize I’ve been staring as his firm glutes. My face heats with humiliation and I glance away.
What did he just say? My mind was elsewhere.
I pin him with a glare, ignoring his half-nude body as he gets dressed. “This is not my home. You will release me or my father will?—”
“He’ll do nothing.” Dimitri walks out of the closet as he tugs a T-shirt over his head. “I spoke with your father last night, after our wedding ceremony, and he understands that the deal between the Kozlovs and Pontrellis is now done. You’re mine.”
Wedding ceremony?
“What wedding ceremony?” I murmur.
“Don’t you remember the church? Father Misha married us before witnesses and God. He’s filing the paperwork today.”
I shake my head, more snippets of memory from the church coming back to me. “I didn’t sign any paperwork. We are absolutely not married.”
He steps closer and some of the fear that had been drowned out by my anger rises to the surface. His olive green eyes bore into me.
“Whether you signed or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that there’s a wedding license with your signature on it filed with the state. It’s a done deal, wife.”
I gape at him. He drugged and dragged me to a church, forged my signature, then tattooed his name on my finger.
What an absolute stronzo.
Reaching for the nightstand, I grab the vase of blue delphiniums and hurl it at his head. Unfortunately, he ducks just in time to avoid the projectile and the glass vase shatters against the far wall.
With a curse, he glances at the mess then back at me. “Those were for you by the way.”
“I don’t want flowers!” I seethe up at him. “I want my damn clothes back, then I want to get out of here. You cannot do this to people and get away with it.” I point at my tattooed ring finger.
His expression darkens. “Actually, I can. And you’re not going anywhere. I, on the other hand, have some urgent business to attend to this morning. Be a good girl while I’m away.”
“Fuck you!” I say to his retreating back. I rarely curse, but this man is infuriating.
In the doorway he glances over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I promise we’ll consummate our marriage soon.” The door closes behind him.
Heat crawls up my neck, all the way to my hairline. My entire body trembles with fury, outrage, and horror. We will absolutely not be consummating anything. Ever.
What am I going to do? He took my phone, so I can’t call anyone. I’m somehow legally bound to him against my will. This is a living nightmare.
My only hope rests with Connor Bane, if he is in fact the man I think he is, the one who I call my dark knight. Will he save me this time, too? Or did Dimitri Kozlov and his men kill Connor? I have no way of knowing.
