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In the blink of an eye, Damien knocked the gun from Anton’s other hand with such speed and accuracy, it looked like a magic trick. In the next heartbeat, he had Anton pinned against a wall, his hand squeezing around the other man’s neck until Anton’s eyes bulged.
Ansley gasped. She felt instantaneously scared and aroused by the sight of Damien. He did that to her, he made her fear him, and yet she wanted to follow him too, into a darkness she didn’t know who to handle. She swallowed as she looked at his hand clasped around the man’s neck. Her skin heated up. He had touched her that way. With his hand on her throat, ripping mad at her, but then something had changed, and the darkness in his eyes had made her even wetter than she had been.
She needed to get away from these three men. She needed to find a way where she could save Marjorie’s shop but from a remote, untouchable location.
But then, still in Roman’s inescapable grasp, Ansley was dragged along. The next few moments happened in a blinding display of awe as the swords in Leonid’s hands whooshed through the air and flickered against the morning sun pouring in through the windows.
Without moving his body, he had used the swords to disarm the men and the only sound that echoed around her was the clatter as their guns fell to the floor and some of the men crying in pain, holding their bleeding hands.
Then, like a perfectly choreographed scene, he used the swords and swept up their guns into a pile, resting the tips of the razor-sharp blade onto his pile of weapons, daring anyone to retrieve their guns. None of the men did, possibly fearing the light scraps and scratches would be nothing compared to having the hands chopped off by Leonid.
She was too stunned by everything around her when the five disarmed men parted ways and allowed Roman to drag her out.
“Wait. What are you doing?” she yelled. She had been momentarily sidetracked by what had happened between Anton Kozlov and the Shlykov brothers that she forgot about her own worries. And, oh boy, was she in trouble.
Crap. Fuck. She was epically screwed and started to struggle out of Roman’s grasp a little too late. She was already escorted outside and bundled into a limousine.
“Take her home,” Roman said to a tall man dressed in a black suit. He looked silently, deadly as the brothers themselves but then he smiled at her and she didn’t know what to make of him.
“Yes,pakhan.”
“Wait. You can’t do this,” she shouted, but she was already locked in and the partition separating her from the driver was up. That didn’t stop her from kicking and screaming to no avail. She didn’t even have her purse with her, so no phone, and after a while of driving she gave up and sat there pouting with her arms folded.
She had no idea where she was being taken to. Where was home? It wasn’t her home surely, but eventually, the car came to a stop, and the driver opened the passenger door for her.
Ansley poked her head out and groaned.
When they meant home they were talking abouttheirhome.
Yeah no. That wasn’t going to happen. She needed to escape them. Not make involuntary visits to their home.
“I demand to be taken home, to my home immediately.”
“I’m sorry, Miss, I can’t do that.”
“Okay look,” she stepped out of the car and couldn’t help the wonder in her at the sight of the mansion before her. She was accustomed to things like that but there was something about their house that blew her mind. It was tall, huge, and proud. Just like them, she supposed, in a way.
“What’s your name?” she smiled, turning on the charm.
“Yuric. I am Yuric, Miss.”
“Yuric, that’s a great name. Do you have a girlfriend, Yuric?”
“No, Miss.”
Ansley clapped her hands because he was the perfect candidate for her friend Kyra. Just perfect. “I have the perfect date for you, her name is Kyra and she’s a supermodel and if you give me your phone I’ll set the two of you up right now. Also, can you take me back home, please?”
“Sorry, Miss. I can’t do that. But I’m sure Kyra is lovely. This way, please. I’m sure you would like to freshen up and rest.”
“Argh,” Ansley screamed. “What I want is to leave.” She glanced up the winding driveway, then at her high heels, then thought of how soft her feet were and what the damage of walking miles and miles would do to it. Lifelong damage even.
She took in a breath. “Is there a way I can escape this place, Yuric?”
“No, Miss.”
“Then I’m not leaving this car,” she said and climbed back in. “If you want to move me, you will have to do so physically.”
“I can’t do that, Miss. But I can sit with you,” he said with extreme calm and slipped into the driver’s seat once more.
