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I sit up, electrified. Of course! The perfect getaway has been in front of me all along.
Nikolai’s new compound. It’s the closest I can get to disappearing while still remaining on the same planet.
This is it. This is the solution to all my problems.
When Nikolai leaves tomorrow, I will go with him—and Alexei will never find me.
Chapter23
Present Day, Location Unknown
“You shouldn’t have run,” Alexei says as a gust of wind brings a cool spray of ocean water to the table. Or maybe it’s the beginnings of rain. The waves are intensifying, the yacht rocking harder. A zigzag of lightning bisects the rapidly darkening sky, followed by a bone-rattling boom of thunder. Soon, it’ll be too dangerous to sit here. I, however, am far more afraid of what awaits me below the deck, in the bedroom Alexei intends for us to share. I interlace my hands on the table to steady them as he continues. “We could’ve had this meal in a nice restaurant in Moscow.”
And with a lot less blood spilled. He doesn’t say that, but he doesn’t have to.
“What were you planning to do?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice calm as I pour myself a glass of water from a crystal pitcher on the table. My mouth is dry, and the caviar sandwich I consumed feels like it’s stuck halfway down my throat. “If I’d stayed in Moscow, what would you have done when I didn’t get into your car?”
A twisted smile plucks at his lips. “What do you think?”
I drain half of the water in the glass before setting it down. “I think you’re a monster capable of anything.”
“You know me so well.”
His dry tone makes me wince internally. Because he’s right. I don’t know him. At least not nearly as well as he knows me. All of my stalking of him was surface level, designed to keep me apprised of his whereabouts, whereas he’s delved into every area of my life, no matter how private. I regret that now, not getting to know him better before, when the stakes were much lower. Now he’s my captor, and I have no idea what his weaknesses are, how I can manipulate him into granting me freedom.
The dark, powerful man sitting in front of me is a mystery, a puzzle. All I know is that he wants me and has gone to incredible—and terrible—lengths to claim me. And all because… what? I’m beautiful as decreed by some arbitrary societal standard?
“Is it a status thing for you?” I ask, cocking my head. Maybe it’s not too late for me to try to get to know him, to understand what drives him.
His eyebrows furrow. “Is what a status thing?”
“Me. The betrothal. This whole obsession of yours.” I steady the pitcher as it begins to slide toward the edge of the table, aided by a puddle of condensation and a tall wave tilting the yacht. “You said it’s because of my looks, but Moscow is full of gorgeous women. So is it because I’m a Molotov? Do you want me because I’m both decorativeandrich?”
As far as I can tell, that’s about the only unique thing about me. Beauty is nothing special in our circles; throw a rock at a party, and it’ll bounce off a supermodel. But as a rule, those women don’t have much to offer beyond their perfect bodies and symmetrical faces. I do. I have billions in assets and the kinds of connections only generational power can bring. The Leonovs don’t need that, strictly speaking—they have enough power and wealth of their own—but having me would still be a coup for Alexei.
I’m arm candy that can’t be bought, and that makes me the ultimate status symbol, a prize worthy of a man who has everything.
Alexei’s eyes narrow. “Is that what—”
“May I clear away the table, sir?”
An unfamiliar woman’s voice speaking Russian startles me into looking up. A short, middle-aged woman with straight, shoulder-length black hair is standing by the table, an apron wrapped around her waist and a waiter’s cart at her side.
“Yes, thank you, Vika,” Alexei says, then pauses and arches an eyebrow at me. “Unless you’re still hungry, Alinyonok?”
As much as I’d like to stretch out this meal for as long as I can, with the storm, it’s only a matter of minutes before all the plates start sliding off the table and the food goes flying. Reluctantly, I shake my head. “I’m done.”
The woman—Vika—swiftly stacks all the dishes onto the cart and wheels it toward the nose of the yacht, where the kitchen must be.
“Thank you,” I call after her belatedly. “Everything was delicious!”
It doesn’t hurt to get on Alexei’s employees’ good side.
She turns her head, flashing a smile that softens her angular face. “It was my pleasure,” she calls back before pushing the cart around the corner and disappearing from sight.
I return my attention to Alexei, hoping to continue the conversation, but he’s already on his feet. “Shall we?” he asks, coming around the table to extend a hand as another bolt of lightning flashes closer. My pulse kicks up, its roar nearly drowning out the ensuing boom of thunder.
This is it.
