Page 60 of Unholy Tsar

CECILIA

My heart is pounding so loudly that I can hardly hear any other sound over the rapid thump, thump, thump as I try to maintain an air of nonchalance strolling down the East River.

“How are you holding up?” Maksim’s voice croons in my ear. It takes all my effort not to reach up and fiddle with the earpiece to hear him better. I’ve been told that’s a dead giveaway.

“So far, so good,” I murmur, trying not to move my lips too much. If someone’s going to kidnap me, we have to make it seem like I’m alone. Not that it exactly stopped them last time.

Straightening my shoulders, I pause at a pier to admire the burnt orange reflection of the setting sun on the water. “Stunning,” I whisper to myself.

“Yes, you are,” Maksim replies. I grin, feeling my cheeks warm up. Who would’ve thought the mighty Maksim Smolov could be so playful?

The past two days have felt like a honeymoon, even as we planned for this dangerous trap.

I’m still grinning when someone suddenly bumps into me from behind. My grin changes to a scowl as I spin around to face the person. Something presses against my stomach, and I glance down.

It’s a knife.

“Follow me quietly if you don’t want me to gut you,” he threatens. A lump grows in my throat. I freeze.

Shit, this is what we planned for, but now that it’s happening, I can’t seem to think through the fear.

“I’m right behind you, Malyshka. You’re going to be fine.” Maksim’s soothing voice breaks through the fear, melting the lump. With his support, I finally gather the courage to look up at my attacker. He has the same build and scratchy voice as the man who kidnapped me before—the one who jumped into the river.

“You again? I thought you drowned running away from me,” I taunt, following him as ordered. He growls in response and digs the knife deeper into my belly until the sharp blade slices through my shirt and nicks my skin.

“Do not fucking provoke him,” Maksim warns.

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” I say for Maksim’s sake, but raise my hands up so the man thinks I’m talking to him.

Without another word, he leads me to a nondescript sedan parked a few blocks away. “Stop there,” he demands. I do, and he violently ties my hands before shoving me into the back of the car.

“You didn’t need to tie me up,” I curse, trying to sit up and regain some sense of control. “I don’t plan on attacking you again.”

“Malyshka,” Maksim warns with an edge in his voice. “We’re trailing you guys, but could you please stop provoking him? If he hurts you, I’ll be forced to show myself, and then he won’t lead us to his hideout.”

I sigh at the reminder. I know he’s right. But damn it, seeing this asshole again is just making me so angry.

Fortunately, my kidnapper doesn’t seem to be paying any attention. He just gets into the driver's seat and starts the car. As soon as we start moving, I sway to the side with a dramatic, “Oomph.”

I use the momentum to strain my hands to the inside of my jeans, where Maksim’s knife is tucked. There are two others hidden on my body, one in my bra and another in my ankle. The one in my ankle is for the kidnapper to discover when he searches me for weapons. The hope is he’ll stop there.

For now, though, I focus on using the knife to start cutting my ropes as quietly as possible. Since I started this thing being chatty, I cast about for a line of conversation that won’t provoke him. Anything to keep his suspicions low.

“Do you know what Maleeshka means?” I ask him.

But he just shoots me a vicious glare through the rearview mirror.

I continue anyway. “Right, sorry. You’re not Russian; of course, you have no idea what it means. You see, this man I’m seeing keeps calling me that, and it’s triggered my curiosity and—”

“Shut. Up.”

“Anyways, I finally googled it last night, and apparently it means ‘baby girl.’”

“Stop talking, you stupid cunt.” He swerves the car to the left, and I slam into the door, pain exploding through my side.

“Fuck,” I hiss as the knife slips in my hand and slices my flesh. I wince, gritting my teeth against the pain.

I painfully force myself back up. “Alright. Message received.” I say, tightening my grip on the knife.