Page 11 of Hunted Bride

Broken. Or intentionally disabled.

Anxiety blooms into outright panic. This is really happening.

My captor slides into the driver’s seat. I can see his silhouette, but I can’t really make out his features through the dark glass partition. He’s wearing sunglasses and a hat. All I can really tell is that he’s a huge guy and covered in tattoos. Definitely bratva. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey! Let me out!” I shout.

He drives smoothly into traffic, ignoring me.

“Alrighty, then,” I say to myself, slumping against the seat. “Guess you’re not going to work today, Milena. No phone, no coffee. Got your ass kidnapped. Great start.”

I’m pretty pissed about dropping my mug. Whoever he is, my stalker is going to pay for making me lose it.

6

RION

Milena doesn’t put up a fight. She’s been beaten down for so long that she accepts being stolen off the street in broad daylight without so much as a scream.

They say the quiet girls are the ones you have to watch out for.

Either the next forty-eight hours are going to reveal new depths of her strength, or break her completely.

Apprehension grips me. I don’t want to break her. Possess her, fuck her, play with her—all of those things, yes. Not hurt her.

Holy shit, my own family will feed me to the Morozovs if anyone discovers what I’ve done.

She can’t find out my identity. That would be a death sentence.

I drive slowly through the gates and park in a known security blind spot off to one side of the garage. I need to get Milena inside without seeing my face. I doubt she would recognize me. Can’t take the risk.

I sit there for a second to erase the footage of me driving in.

“What the fuck are you doing, durak.” Idiot. I blow out a breath. Risking an all-out blood feud between our family’s closest allies is beyond stupid. But I’ll never get better cover than Maxim’s runaway bride. He’s on the hunt. They don’t need me right now. I have until Max corners Alisa to get six years of pining for this forbidden woman out of my system. After that, I have to let my mouse scurry free.

Bringing her to her own sister’s house is a huge risk. On one hand, it’s the perfect place to hide Milena. No one will think to look for the other missing Morozov daughter at her own sister’s mansion—if anyone even notices she’s gone.

On the other hand, putting her there runs the massive risk of an accidental discovery by either of our families.

I already called her job and told her boss that I was a doctor and that she needed to stay home with a bad case of food poisoning for a couple of days. I sent the same thing to her teachers in her library school program, via an email from Milena’s account.

If shit hits the fan, I can safely leave her at her sister’s and slink back to Las Vegas with no one the wiser about what I’ve done.

I’ll need to step away at times so my family doesn’t get suspicious. I’ve had this house’s security system hacked into for years. All I needed to do was take full command and put the cameras on a loop. I can lock Milena inside.

Chase her.

Have my way with her.

I’m not a monster. I’m not going to force her into doing things she doesn’t want. But I know she wants me almost as much as she hates me. I know she fantasizes about the things I intend to do to her. Time to find out how far she’s willing to go to make her fantasies a reality.

I put a baseball cap on, sunglasses, and one of those neck gaiter things, pulled up over my face and nose. Three common objects that don’t arouse suspicion. Together they make an effective disguise. I get out and open the door.

Milena pokes one leg out. My dick surges to attention at the sight of her shapely calf leading up to those thick thighs. I want to wear those thighs as earmuffs.

She’s wary of me, but not scared. Yet. Her huge brown eyes are soft and velvety. Her nose is tiny and slightly upturned at the end, dominated by her enormous thick-rimmed glasses. Her lips full over a delicate chin. She’s all soft sweetness—but there’s a defiant gleam in her eye.

“We meet at last,” she says, crossing her arms over her generous breasts. The ones she showed me last night when I demanded it. Bolder with me than she is with anyone else. I can tell she’s scared, though. Putting on a brave front.