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It takes him forever and a day to finally vacate my office. When he does, I slump back in my chair and let out a heavy sigh.Dammit. The last thing I need right now is a cop sniffing around. Detective Ivanovich has always had it out for me—ever since that random traffic stop five years ago.
One of my drivers had been in the middle of smuggling fifteen kilos of cocaine across the border when the detective himself pulled him over. My lawyers were able to make it appear as though the driver had gone rogue, acting of his own volition, effectively distancing the company from the charges.
I had to throw the guy under the bus, unfortunately. Punishment for his negligence. He was slapped with twenty-five years in prison, and still has twenty to go. Before he went in, Roman made sure to negotiate favorable terms to ensure the driver didn’t blow the whistle on our operation. Trust me when I say he’s being paid very well, and his family is being looked after indefinitely. So far, he hasn’t uttered a word. It’ll stay that way if he knows what’s good for him.
An alarm beeps on my laptop, alerting me of movement on one of the depot’s security cameras. Now that the coast is clear, I open the surveillance tab and click through the different video feeds. I can see my mechanics and drivers hard at work. The dispatch team are all toiling away. The video in the basement catches my eye.
The lighting makes it difficult, but I can see Sandra struggling in her chair. She leans heavily to one side, straining against her bindings with all her weight. I watch in fascination as she rocks back and forth, pulling and tugging. I can practically smell her desperation through the laptop’s screen.
The poor princess is going to hurt herself if she keeps this up—
Suddenly, her zip ties snap. Sandra falls to one side of the chair, looking just as shocked as I feel.Shit. How did she do that? I rise from my chair immediately. I’ve already sent my brothers out ahead, so I’m going to have to detain her by myself. Looks like Ms. Antonova is trying for a jailbreak.
Not on my fucking watch.
I barrel out of my office and rapidly descend the stairs toward the basement. Thankfully, the doors are sealed shut and kept under lock and key. I can hear her frantic footsteps clapping against the hard floors. Something slams against the metal basement door. I think she’s trying to use her body as a battering ram. I hear her grunt, rear back, and dash forward once again.
Credit where credit is due, this woman’s as determined as they come.
I time everything, calculating the seconds it’ll take for her to reach the door again. When she does, I swing it wide open and let her fall through with a yelp.
“Shit—”
“And where do you think you’re going?” I ask, quick to grasp her hand.
Sandra is fast. Much faster than I anticipated. Catching her off-guard barely did anything. She nails me with a swift roundhouse, driving her heel into my gut. The momentum slams me into the wall. Acting purely on instinct, I grab her by the ankle with both hands and yank, throwing her off balance.
Sandra falls to the floor, but she isn’t down for the count. She claws at me when I try to wrap my arms around her, screaming and cussing up a storm. Sandra brings her elbow back, nearly nailing me in the nose for the second time today. It’s a full-on wrestle now. I’m on top of her, using my weight to try and subdue her, but she’s running on nothing but anger and spite—a truly dangerous combination.
“Let me go!” she shrieks.
“Holy shit, woman, how are you so strong?”
“Maybe you’re just fuckingweak!”
I don’t take kindly to her comment. As quick as lightning, I snatch both her wrists and pin them to either side of her head. She’s got her legs wrapped around my hips, ankles locked behind me in an attempt to maintain control. It’s pretty obvious she has more than just self-defense training. This is fuckingkrav maga. How does she know Israeli Army fighting techniques?
Our bodies are pressed flush against each other. Her breath is hot against my face, the rise and fall of her chest meeting mine. We’re both panting, our cheeks red with heat. Sandra’s pretty red hair sticks to the sides of her face, skin coated in sweat. I should be furious with her, humiliated that she can so easily keep up with me…
Instead, I’m strangely intrigued.
I’m by no means a small man. The fact that she can meet me blow for blow is impressive. Fascinating. What’s more, Sandra feels…nice. Her soft skin, the roundness of her hips, and the squeeze of her thighs around me. Now that I’m up close and personal, I’m in full view of her plush lips. They’re actually rather gorgeous when she isn’t swearing at me.
I could kiss her if I wanted to.
But I won’t.
How could I even think such a thing?
“Get off,” she hisses, giving me a hard shove with her knees. I don’t budge.
My attention is drawn to the bright red welts upon her wrists. She’s not only given herself a pair of severe bruises, but she’s also cut through skin in her attempt to break free of her bindings. A flicker of annoyance burns in the pit of my stomach, but I’m not sure why.
“Look what you’ve done,” I grumble. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”
“Fuck you,” she growls. “Next time, the blood will be yours.”
I smirk despite myself. “Whatever you say, princess.”
