“I am.”
“Back to the estate?”
“No.”
Her breath quickened, and anger radiated off her in waves.
“You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I start screaming loud enough to bring security down on us. My guards are waiting just outside.”
“You should,” I said calmly, stunning her into silence.
“You should make noise,” I continued. “You should make it very difficult for anyone to move you without your consent.”
Her lips parted slightly, unsure of what was even happening.
“Because if it isn’t me,” I said quietly, “it will be someone else.”
Silence dropped heavily inside the car.
She swallowed once. “You’re not making sense.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“When we’re somewhere more secure.”
Her laugh was sharp and disbelieving. “Secure? You dragged me into your car.”
“I could have done worse.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t.”
“I won’t,” I said evenly, and I meant it. The city lights blurred past as I drove, and to my surprise, she didn’t scream or reach for her phone, but her body was rigid, coiled.
“You followed me.”
“Yes.”
“Are you working for another bratva?”
“Maybe.”
She inhaled sharply. “Is this about my family?”
I didn’t answer immediately, but for someone like her, that was an answer enough. Her face drained slightly of color as she realized she was probably walking into trouble.
“I wasn’t sent to meet you.”
“Am I supposed to feel reassured?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly am I supposed to feel right now?”
“Alert.”
She turned toward the window, jaw tight, and we continued to drive in silence for several blocks. I could see she was thinking and calculating an escape route. She hadn’t panicked once, and I admired that about her. It was enough to tell me everything about her upbringing. When we finally pulled up in front of a nondescript concrete building near the water, she looked at me like she was preparing to fight.
