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Damien’s shoulders tense. “You’re being serious,” he realizes. “Have it your way, then,” he adds before leaving.
The moment he’s out of sight, I pull against my chains. After my failed escape attempt, the Boss upgraded my zip ties to actual handcuffs, attached to a short chain bolted to the floor. I have the freedom to sit, stand, and walk around in a small circle, but that’s about it. No matter how hard I try, there’s no breaking out this time.
I rub my swollen wrists. One-Eye patched me up, paying careful attention to disinfect my cuts and even giving me an ice pack for my bruises. It’s frankly better treatment than what I was expecting to receive. If Dad is right and these men are really an up-and-coming Bratva, they’re surprisingly considerate.
I wonder if they have some sort of code like Dad does. For over twenty years, the Antonov Bratva has adhered to a strict set of rules—the first and most important being that we only resort to violence when absolutely necessary. With Dad’s impressive leadership, Uncle Dima’s excellent negotiation skills, Uncle Pyotr’s knack for business, and Uncle Luka’s incomparable hacking expertise, we Antonovs have rarely had to get our hands dirty.
The key word beingrarely.
My stomach grumbles angrily, forcing my gaze to the bowl of cold cinnamon porridge Damien left behind. Not exactly a Michelin star meal, but to someone who’s had little more than a few bites of bread over the course of seventy-two hours, porridge sounds like Heaven. I have to stop myself mid-stride to keep from going to the food.
Poison, remember? Don’t take the risk.
Exhaustion is finally setting in. Between sleeping on the hard floor and my sudden lack of three square meals, my body is starting to show signs of distress. I’m shaky. My headache is constant. All I want to do is sleep, but my survival instincts tell me to stay awake and alert, ready to pounce the next time the Boss makes the mistake of showing that deceptively handsome face of his.
As if summoned by my thoughts, he steps in with a sneer, his cold eyes locking onto mine.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he demands.
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Eat.”
“No.”
“Let me make it perfectly clear, Ms. Antonova, youwilleat.”
“Or what?” I snap. “What are you going to do to me, hm? Kidnap me? Oh, wait.”
“You’re seriously starting to test my patience.”
“Starting? Damn. I was hoping to piss you off.”
“At least drink some water.”
“Make me—”
In three long strides, the Boss closes the gap between us. He snatches up a waiting water bottle, cracks open the top, and pours a few glugs into his mouth before roughly crashing his lips to mine. I’m so stunned my mouth falls open, the cool water rushing in. I must be thirstier than I first believed because I swallow automatically, my body more than eager for hydration.
The Boss grasps my chin, his lips still hovering dangerously close to mine. I can’t step back, and I can’t move forward. All I can do is stand there, dumbfounded and more than a little high, the taste of his tongue still lingering on mine. My brain struggles to comprehend what just happened.
Did he just… Did he justkissme?
And why the hell do I want him to do it again?
I’m suddenly on fire, every inch of my skin tingling with the promise of something electric. The way he’s looking at me right now… I think he’s in disbelief, too. He wasn’t planning on doing that. I think something inside him—something dark and hungry—justsnapped.
“Drink your water,” he growls, his voice vibrating straight through me.
“No,” I growl back, never one to back down from a fight.
The Boss’ nostrils flare, the corner of his lip ticking up into a grin. “Then you leave me no choice.”
He takes the bottle and pours until his mouth is full before finding my lips again. This time, he wraps his strong arm around my waist and crushes me against him. Water spills over my chin, down my neck, soaks into my shirt. What little that does make the transfer trickles down my throat—yet I’m somehow thirstier than when I started.
I don’t understand the heat pooling deep within my core, or the moan that rises from my chest when his tongue ghosts over mine. I don’t understand the needy throb between my legs, or the way my body melts against him. I shouldn’t feel this way—I really shouldn’t, but…
I shove him hard, forcing him to release me and take a step back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
