Page 30 of Lord of Passion

Ah, fuck,I think.It's Dariy Agapov.

"Nikandr Morozov!" The man coming at us, arms spread wide, beams at me as if we're the best of friends. He's wearing a cashmere tracksuit and enough gold chains to snap an average man's neck.

"Your welcome is far warmer than your employees' were, Dariy Agapov," I say, eyeing the three men clustered behind us.

His face falls. "They did not treat you with the proper respect? Rustik," he gestures at Thug #1, "shoot one of them."

With zero expression, he pulls his gun and shoots one of the others in the head before the man can open his mouth to protest.

"Oh, that sucks," Caroline mumbles, putting her hand tenderly over her ear. "I'm going to have to learn sign language because I'm not getting out of Moscow with my hearing intact."

"But back to you," Dariy continues without a beat as two servants hasten over to wipe up the blood as the body is dragged off. "SovietnikNikandr Morozov and…" His beady eyes, shrewd as a sewer rat's, glance from me to Caroline.

"My wife, Caroline Morozova," I cut in, smiling urbanely at our visibly disappointed captor. Caroline's hand jerks, like she's about to bring it up and slap me and I lace my fingers between hers, squeezing firmly.

Chapter Fourteen

In which we all wonder, what the actual fuck is going on here?

Caroline…

What the actual fuck is going on here?

Nikandr's got a grip on me that I couldn't get out of without a lot more upper body strength than I possess.

"What was that?" I hiss as he guides me down the marble hallway. Both walls are floor to ceiling mirrors and I see my reflected outrage from every direction.

"Be quiet," he says between his teeth. His expression is still set in a genial, "We're all friends here," grin. He finds a door in the mirrored wall and opens it, hauling me inside. It's a bathroom, an elaborate mirror coated in gold gilt and a colossal marble sink.

He'd casually told Dariy that we needed to, "Freshen up a bit," and our weird-ass host gave me a leer that makes it clear he thinks I'm about to give Nikandr a blow job.

Yeah, because nothing puts me in the mood like a kidnapping and ears that are still clanging like the bells of Notre Dame.

Nikandr presses me back against the vanity, the marble edge pressing against the small of my back.

"Listen to me carefully," he says. "We're married."

"The hell we are!"

"You're either conveniently married to me," he says, crowding into me. "Or our host will consider you as free game. He was making no secret of his desire to strip you down right there in the entryway."

I push against him and it's about as useful as trying to shove off a bull moose. "Bullshit. Why do I have to be married to you to be untouchable?"

"No doesnotmean no with these fuckheads," he says sharply, his voice still low, lips close to my ear. "Agapov is Cossack, through and through, but with even less manners. That's why he kidnapped us instead of requesting a meeting."

"He thinks this is ameeting?"I hiss, pushing again. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Cossack," he shrugs, as if that answers all the necessary questions.

"So, this means hedoesn'tintend to kill us after torturing us? Well, it's good that I don't have to freak out then because you were being very calm and I thought it was some stoic Slavic thing like, 'tonight, we die' and I was trying to not completely lose it." He's staring down at me, one corner of his mouth turned up, just slightly. "Then how do we get out of here?" I ask, sagging in defeat. I've given up on trying to eel free from him because it feels like my wiggling is having some effect on Nikandr's lower half, based on the baseball bat-sized lump against my hip.

"I've already sent our location to my people," he murmurs, "Agapov isn't going to hurt us, he wants something. Your job is to hold my hand. Smile pleasantly. Act like a newlywed."

"What does a newlywed act like?" I wipe my forehead. That long, hard lump against my hip is more defined, harder, kind of aggressive. I can't concentrate under these circumstances. "Also, can you get the hell off me?"

Nikandr scowls, moving his hips back slightly. "Giddy. You're giddy with the delight of our recent union."

"Why does it have to be recent?" I can't help it. I look down. Yes, he's still hard and straining against his expensively tailored trousers.