I do know it. He came after me because Misha went after them. An eye for an eye.
My chin goes up. “So, are you planning to starve me to death?”
The corners of his lips twitch. “You hungry, kitty cat?”
If I had anything close to me that I could launch far enough, I’d throw it at this bastard’s head. “Don’t call me that.”
Andriani shakes his head slowly. “You don’t get to decide what I call you.”
“Let me out of here, you bastard.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, and I notice the piece tucked into his waistband and the way his muscles flex under his fitted shirt. “Talking to me that way isn’t going to make me any more inclined to feed you.”
“I’ll be worth more to Misha alive than dead,” I point out.
And I hope that’s true. When it comes to my eldest brother, I’m never quite sure. He lives by one motto, and I suspect one day he’ll die by it—Mikhail Sidorov only does what’s best for himself.
Andriani flashes me an evil grin. “Guess we’ll have to find out about that. In the meantime, stop tearing my room apart, hellcat.”
He turns around, and I have a brief glimpse of his perfect ass in those designer slacks before he slams the door behind him. Then I’m alone again with nothing but the dismantled bed and my grumbling stomach for company.
Chapter 2
KATYA
My eyes flutter open to the smell of something cooking, and my stomach rumbles in instant response. I must have fallen asleep after venting my frustration on the bed. I guess the combination of adrenaline, hunger, and whatever drug Andriani fed me to knock me out proved too much. I remember feeling spent after he left me alone again, my eyes getting heavy, my vision starting to swirl the way it used to in science class back in high school. I never did like science.
The last thing I remember is lying down on my side and glaring at the door, willing it to open back up, my body feeling strangely heavy. But what’s weird is that I’m curled up on the mattress, under the comforter I threw out of reach. How did it get here?
Not him. If he’s going to kill me, why would he care if I had a blanket to sleep? Besides, Andriani hardly seems like the nurturing type.
But there’s no one else around, as far as I can tell. Unless one of Andriani’s men has shown up to watch over his hostage instead. Sitting up and stretching, I rub my ankle and decide that seems like a plausible explanation. Turns out, being chained toa bed isn’t the most comfortable position in the world, and my skin is chafed to the point of almost being raw.
I don’t have much more time to think before the door opens and Andriani is standing there, holding a tray. From my position, he seems even taller than before, all broad shoulders, long legs, and lean hips. Everything about him oozes raw sex. I don’t want to notice, but it’s impossible not to. He’s the kind of man I’ve actively avoided, all unbridled power and potent masculinity with a dark, dangerous edge.
“Food,” he announces.
My stomach growls.
I stare at him. “Is it poisoned?”
“Guess you’ll have to find out the hard way.”
He saunters over and sets the tray on the floor at the edge of my reach. I’m so starved I could eat a boiled shoe right now, but I don’t want him to know that. I flick a glance over the offering. A bowl of red soup, a toasty grilled cheese that’s cut diagonally, and a glass of water.
“I don’t like tomato,” I tell him.
He stares at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. “Too fucking bad. Eat it or don’t.”
Starved as I am, I’d still rather throw the bowl of soup at the bastard’s head. And I one hundred and ten percent do not trust him.
“You eat it first.”
“Thought you might be hungry, but I can see you’re not.” He bends down again, going for the tray.
I lean forward and grab the edge. “Leave it.”
“Guess youdolike tomatoes.”
