She’s not afraid. She’s planning.
“Home sweet home,” I murmur, more to myself than her.
The gates swing open to my property, then close behind us with a satisfying click.
She turns to me, her eyes calculating.
Beautiful.
I’m sure she doesn’t want to be here, but this is where I live. My home is outside of Moscow, not far from my parents.
“Lovely,” Anissa murmurs, taking in the large estate. Cold stone, high balconies, windows too high and narrow to escape. “A five-star hostage situation.”
I give her a shrug. “If you behave.”
The house seems to swallow her whole when we step inside. I’ve dismissed my guards for the day. After what happened in Paris, they seemed eager to comply.
I want her alone.
I don’t want anyone else coming anywhere near her. Eventually, I’ll have to bring her back to the Kopolovs, but I want to wait until she’s not as wild… after I’ve had time with her.
She doesn’t know she has a sister. I don’t know how she’ll react to that.
I catch her wrist before she pulls away, rubbing gently at the chaffed skin. I watch as she scans the room with those thief’s eyes, already clocking exits.
Clever little brat.
“Don’t forget, you run, and I’ll find you.” I kiss the damp hair at her temple. I can’t help myself. “Faster than last time.”
“Thought you had a primal kink,” she says, her voice low. “Really, you think this is the first cage I’ve been in?” Rolling her eyes, she goes all wistful, her voice soft. “There was this guy…”
I freeze. Blood pounds in my ears, and my vision blurs.
No.She watches me. Waiting. Testing.
I let her go. I like her roaming free, ready to run. I like being ready to pounce.
“You think catching you was the endgame?” I shake my head. “That was only the prelude.” I lean in, my voice against her ear. “You think fucking you was the endgame? We’ll get there, but that’s not the endgame either.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Then what is?”
I shake my head. “I’ve already told you.”
Staring up at me, something like fear sparks in her eyes. “Owning me, right, right.” She winks at me. “Just like that guy in Paris…”
And then she smirks. The smirkdestroysme, and I snap. I don’t think.I act.
One second, she’s standing there, all cocky and defiant as fuck, and the next? She’s over my fucking shoulder. I smack her ass so hard she howls. She kicks and fights, and it’s satisfying as fuck, spanking her again and holding her in place.
“You want to test me?” My voice is low, lethal. “Go ahead.”
I slide her down my chest, one arm wrapped around her back like a vise, my hand against her throat. I could bruise her soft, creamy skin. I couldbreakher, and she knows it.
I press closer, my mouth against her ear. “Tell me about Paris. Tell me his name.”
She doesn’t.
Smart girl.
