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When a sob lodges in my throat, I swallow it down and straighten my back. I just got my dream job, I’ll have enough money to move out of my parents house by the end of the year, and my future will be what I’ve envisioned for it. No way in hell am I going to let Dimitri Kozlov take everything away from me. Not without a fight.
My sister Sophia was kidnapped by a man who thought he could own her, and she ended up falling for him. That is not how this is going to end. My freedom is more important to me than anything.
I have to get away. Even if I have to do it on my own.
I need to find some clothes, then get out of this house. I know my family won’t turn me away if I go to them, but that’s what Dimitri will expect me to do. Plus, I won’t be able to stay long at my parents house because of the agreement between my family and the Kozlov Bratva. I don’t think the original deal still stands, but I have no doubt Dimitri Kozlov will demand that it does. My father won’t rescue me, he can’t, not without further risking his already damaged reputation.
I wanted out of this life, and this situation has only expedited my plans.
I’m leaving New York. Getting as far away from this city, and Dimitri Kozlov, as possible.
Glancing down at my tattooed finger, I let my rage boil over, giving me courage for what I need to do. I’m practically vibrating with fury.
Climbing out of bed, I dart across the room and relieve myself in the spacious, marble bathroom. Then I enter his closet to find something to wear, and stop short.
Half the closet is full of his clothing, a few suits mixed in with T-shirts, jeans, and jackets. The other half makes my stomach drop. It’s filled with women’s clothing, all in my size, and my preferred colors. The shoes are my size as well, and when I open a drawer, I find bra and panty sets that are a perfect fit.
The sight leaves me with a feeling of trepidation. How long has he been planning my abduction?
It doesn’t matter, I’m getting out of here.
I quickly dress, then search the room for anything of value. In one of his drawers, I find a wad of hundred dollar bills and don’t hesitate stealing all of it. How much does it cost to have a tattoo removed? Plus, starting fresh under a new identity? I’m going to need all of this cash and more.
My fingers brush against the pearl necklace I always wear and I consider how much I can get from selling it. Probably a good chunk. But I’ll only part with it as a last resort. My parents gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday and I love it. Some day, it may be the only thing I have left to remember them by.
Slipping into a pair of sensible heels and a jacket to ward off the autumn chill, I head for the bedroom door. Twisting the knob, I pull, but it doesn’t budge. I try again. And again.
Did he seriously lock me in his bedroom?
I pound against the door. “Let me out of here, stronzo!”
Crossing the room, I open the drapes and discover that I’m in a penthouse, high above the street. From this room there’s no fire escape access. Surely, that’s a safety violation.
Sighing, I consider the situation. I’m trapped.
The door unlocks and swings open. I grab a figurine from a nearby table, arming myself. Except the man standing in the doorway is not Dimitri Kozlov. I frown, confused.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kozlov, I’m Maks, your bodyguard.” Mrs. Kozlov. That name makes me shudder. “Would you like some breakfast?”
My stomach growls at his offer, but I ignore it.
“No, I don’t want breakfast. And my name is Arianna Pontrelli. You may call me Miss Pontrelli.” I edge toward the open door and side-step the massive wall of muscle standing in my way. He’s supposed to be my bodyguard, courtesy of Dimitri, but I don’t feel safe in his presence at all. If anything, he’s more likely my jailor than my protector.
Darting past him, I head along the hallway to an open floor plan kitchen, dining, and living room. To the right is a short hall that leads to the door.
Hope blossoms in my chest as I sprint for the exit, and my freedom.
I grip the handle and wrench. It won’t open. What’s wrong with the doors in this place? Seriously.
My gaze settles on the keypad and biometric scanner on the inside of the door. Who locks the front door from the inside, preventing someone from leaving? Then it dawns on me. A prison. This place is a prison.
The bodyguard, Maks, eyes me from the end of the hall. “Had those installed just last week. There’s no way out of here.”
He confirms my worst fears, sending me spiraling. If I can’t escape, then I have to face my stalker, my abductor. I’m going to have to find an opportunity to get away, but who knows how long that will take. And in the meantime…
I shake my head to clear away those dark and distressing thoughts before they can take root. Sinking into despair is not an option.
Maks inclines his head to where I’m still holding the figurine as a makeshift weapon. “You should put that down, Mrs–.” At my glare he corrects himself. “Miss Pontrelli. The Pakhan isn’t an easy or forgiving man and you don’t want to upset him if you can help it.” He speaks with a noticeable Russian accent.
