Doesn’t matter.
She goes on. “Alright, so today we buy me clothes, and we go find Mr. O’Rourke. Make small talk. We meet him, and I’ll tellyou exactly why he’s here.” She smiles sweetly and clucks her tongue. “And here you thought you were just bringing me back for my pussy.”
Jesus.
But she’s right. Who better to ferret out O’Rourke than the woman who worked by his side for years?
“So I need clothes. Makeup. Nighttime eye cream before I developbags.God.Shoes. Maybe a mani-pedi. Do they have gel polish here?” She winks at me. “Lingerie. Can’t exactly keep wearing nothing but your oversized tees, can I?”
No, no, she cannot.
“So what’s around here? I want options. Youdowant me to look presentable, right? And go ahead, tell me your greatest fantasy. School teacher? Sexy librarian? I can do that too.”
My greatest fucking fantasy is standing in my kitchen.
“Why the long face?” she asks curiously. “Afraid the brutal Brava enforcer’s become a glorified shopping assistant?”
My fucking god, I will tattoo my name across her ass before she steps foot outside of this house.
She’s playing me, but I already know I’m going to let her win.
Anissa’s back’s to me as she’s rifling through my fridge. She spins around with a carrot stick in her mouth. “And also, this might be theonlytime I ever admit your mother is right, but you do have a serious lack of food in this house. Can we get some food?”
I should’ve left her in the cage. Could’ve fed her fucking triangles of toast right through the metal bars.
The dryer buzzes down the hall.
“Go get changed. We’re heading into town.”
Chapter Thirteen
Anissa
It’s kindainteresting going into town with a guy like Matvei. He parts the crowd with a look. I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it.
His hand rests on my lower back, a sign of possession. Men don’t even look at me. Women stare at him, then me, wide-eyed and fascinated. Andmanyobviously recognize him.
I’ve never been in this little town outside of Moscow before, but I’ve heard about it—small, tight-knit. Ruled by Bratva. They’re known for their excellent food, curated shopping, and Bratva enforcers.
He walks beside me as we look for O’Rourke under the pretense of shopping, but he’s nowhere I’d expect him. The bars, the alleyways, the usual haunts. He’s a big guy, hard to miss.
“You sure Rodion was right? He was heading out of the country and definitely not here.”
Matvei’s lip curls into something like a half smile, but his gray-blue eyes are steely. “I’m sure.”
Maybe I should be afraid. I should definitely be planning my next escape, but instead, something dark and dangerous and seductive tempts me. Because for all his talk of punishment and retribution, he hasn’t really hurt me. Not yet.
He says it’s about loyalty, about making me suffer. But then why does he stop himself when hecouldbreak me? Shove me in a cage as well-furnished as a luxury hotel? Why does he feed me, wash me, and make my body sing? Why does he look murderous when anyone so much as glances at me too long?
I’m playing the long game, earning his trust. But then, why do I watch him when he isn’t looking? Why do I notice everything about him?
Why does something dark and thrilling curl in my stomach when he says I’m his? I need to be careful.
He isn’t the only one losing control.
It’s time I changed the game.
I know exactly how to play it.
