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“You can’t fix this, Luka. They got to me here, in your safe room, in your version of fucking Fort Knox.” My breaths morph into scratchy rasps. “They’ll do it again. And maybe next time, they’ll get the revenge they want.”
“I’m not gonna let that happen.”
“You caused this. You dragged me away from my home in the middle of the night and brought me here. You put a target on my head.”
Luka stands up, his gaze icy. “Your father put a target on your head.”
“But those people weren’t his enemies, were they? They were yours.” I pound my fist against the blood-splattered wall in frustration. “You kidnapped me and made me their prey.”
“Someone must have leaked the wedding plans.”
“Oh, great. So now your enemies know what Dima plans to do to stick it to my father. What the hell is wrong with you people? You live these toxic lives filled with lies, betrayal, and deceit. You only give a damn about revenge, money, and power, and I don’t want to be caught in the hell you’ve created.”
Luka’s jaw twitches but he says nothing. My eyes fall to his white knuckles, fingers still wrapped tight around the bat at his side.
“Do you realize how insanely fucked up this whole thing is?”
“It’s not a life I want, either.” His gruff voice makes the hairs on my arms spring to attention.
“Well, then, isn’t that ironic? My captor and I actually have something in common.”
“It doesn’t mean I won’t do my job, Natasha. You belong to my family now, and it’s my responsibility to protect you.”
I raise my eyes, searching his hardened expression for any hint of a fracture.
“I don’t want your protection.”
“You don’t get that choice.”
I stand up. Even at my full height, his hulking body still towers over me. The scent of his cologne taunts my nostrils, the anticipatory thrill of primal lust coursing through me as I move closer to where he stands. Electricity crackles in the air between us, the promise of a raging inferno to follow.
He puts his hands on my arms, holding me in place with his inked fingers. “Don’t.”
“Why?” I nearly choke out the word. My pulse hammers relentlessly against my throat. “Because you really want me to stop, or because you’re afraid of what you’ll do to me if I don’t?”
