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“There’s no perhaps,” I say. “You will stay.”
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but—”
“I am Anton Ulianov,” I say smoothly. “And you will die before I let you leave.”
Chapter 8
Scarlett
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I blurt, then realize that’s probably not the smartest thing to say to the man who just threatened my life. “I mean…you can’t just keep me here.”
I tug at my wrist, realizing it’s now in a vise. There’s no way I’m getting away from him. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
“Watch me,” he replies, his voice smooth. Then his breath hisses out when I aim a fast knee to his groin. He steps out of reach an instant before my knee connects. “That’s not nice,” he says. And then before I realize what he’s planning, he swoops down, hauls me over his shoulder, and starts striding back into the house.
Holy shit!
“What the hell are you doing?” I squawk. I’m breathless – partly from shock, and partly from being mildly winded at being tossed onto the broad expanse of his shoulder. “Put me down, you bastard!”
“Quiet!” He says nothing else, ignoring me as I thrash about and curse a blue streak. My flailing fists and kicking feet barely earn a moment of his attention. He heads down a hallway and stops at a door.
“Welcome to your new living quarters,” he says as he kicks open the door and deposits me on the floor.
“You…! I…!” For a moment I’m speechless. With pale blue walls, mahogany floors, and a huge bed dominating one wall, the room is ridiculously lovely. But even as I take all this in, dread unfurls within me like a dark flower opening to the sun. The only windows I can see are barred – and there’s only one exit: the one through which my captor has just dragged me. This is no luxurious suite; it’s an inescapable cage. And at any minute, I imagine Cartwright stepping out from the shadows and holding a gun to my head.
“Oh, my God,” I choke out, fighting back terror. “What is this about? Who… who sent you?”
“What?” he frowns. “Nobody sent me. I’m giving you time to settle in. Your comfort is important,” he replies, completely missing the point.
It doesn’t convince me. If he’s working for Cartwright, why doesn’t he just say so? Am I getting it wrong?
“My comfort?” I stare at him in disbelief because none of this is making any sense.
“Of course,” he confirms, as if he didn’t just manhandle me into a plush jail cell.
“Sure!” I snort. “While you lock me up, why not make sure I’m comfortable?” I sneer the last word. It doesn’t seem to bother him. He leans back against the doorframe, arms folded across his massive chest.
“Let’s discuss your duties.”
“Duties? You must be out of your mind!” I can’t believe he’s still speaking so calmly.
“You are expected to take care of my son, and attend to his every need,” he continues. “You will be given a schedule, and you will stick to it.”
“This is fucking impossible!” I huff, though there’s no mistaking the threat in his voice. And I have no doubt he’ll make good on it.
“Discretion and loyalty are paramount in this household,” he begins, emphasizing each word like a hammer striking an anvil. “You will be responsible for my son Nikolai’s well-being and education, but you must also remember that our lives are private. Do you understand?”
“No!” I yell. “Let me the fuck out of here!” When he doesn’t move a muscle, I spin around and survey the room again, this time with an eye to getting the hell away.
“It’s secure,” he says nonchalantly when I finally face him again. “The house has a state-of-the-art security system. If you set a foot outside, I will know of it.” He cocks his head. “And then you will have my security team to contend with. Which would be better than dealing with me.”
I’m breathless with rage…and more than a little terror. He’s lounging casually against the door, but everything about the man’s bearing tells me he’s not someone to be toyed with.
Jesus.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“I’m sure you understand,” he says, as if I hadn’t just spun around like a caged animal looking for a way out. As if he hadn’t just threatened me physically.
