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His mouth opens just to shut again, clearly thinking against whatever comment he had prepared. “Are you going to drink your damn water, or am I going to have to do that again?”
I lick my lips, practically vibrating when I notice the way his eyes follow the motion. What is this strange feeling boiling in my veins? And is that abulgeI see in the front of his pants?
Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into?
I snatch the water bottle from him. I’m strangely disappointed by my own choice. Judging by the cold look he gives me, I think he is, too.
“When are you going to let me out of here?” I ask. “If you think you can keep me locked up forev—”
“My plans are none of your concern.”
“Actually, they kind of are.”
“I’ve already informed your father of my terms. Whether or not he chooses to honor them is entirely up to him.”
“He’ll never accept.”
“Then I’ll never let you go.”
A shiver runs down my spine, goosebumps breaking out over my arms. I know he meant it as a threat, but for some reason, it sounds like a lover’s promise.
Wow. Maybe I reallyamdehydrated.
“This isn’t personal,” he says. “I want this over with as much as you do.”
“Then release me.”
He starts toward the door, fiddling with his necktie. “All in due time, Sandra. All in due time.”
“Wait!”
“What?”
I lick my lips again, still tingling with the sensation of his greedy ones pressed against me. I don’t know what to make of this—of any of it. Whatever this feeling is, I can never act on it.
He’s my captor, after all. My enemy. It wouldn’t be right. I’d rather kill him than let him kiss me again.
“Never mind,” I grumble. “Leave me alone.”
He scoffs. “With pleasure.”
Chapter 6
Andrei
For the love of all that is good and holy—what the hell am I doing?
I never should have kissed her, let alone twice. More importantly, I shouldn’t have let Sandra Antonova get under my skin. It must be her superpower or something, because the moment I was trapped in her blue-eyed gaze, I was no longer myself. Logic and common sense toppled straight out of my head and catapulted themselves out of the window.
It can’t happen again.
I’ve got too much on my plate right now and I simply can’t afford the distraction—no matter how gorgeous and delicious that distraction might be. My entire focus should be on building up the Nicolaevich Bratva, not on the taste of Sandra’s lips and the sound of her languid moan ringing in my ear.
Fuck.
I trudge up the stairs to the ground floor and march straight across the depot. Several mechanics tip their heads out of respect as I pass, but I pay them no mind. Right now, I’m too fucking steamed. I’m convinced Sandra Antonova must be a witch. How else am I to explain the spell I’m under when she’s near?
Roman and Damien turn the corner, entering through one of the garage doors. When Roman sees me, he gives me one of his classic shit-eating grins.
