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“And I saved your life,” he interrupts cooly, popping a grape in his mouth.
“No you didn’t. I saved my own life. You just swooped in at the end to play savior in Yulian’s absence.” This is about duty to my brother, nothing more. Leo would do the same if it was Rowan or any other woman associated with the brotherhood.
“Sit. Have a coffee.” He pushes a mug my way and pours the brown liquid into it before reaching for the cream, adding two splashes, and then half a sugar. Exactly how I like it.
“I’m not here to debate with you. I’m here to tell you that you had no right to take me anywhere against my will, and you need to turn back this ridiculous yacht right now.” I stop and look around, trying to find any landmark in the distance. “Where the fuck are we?”
He strokes his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the expanse of crystal-blue water surrounding us. “We’re cruising the Mediterranean. What else do you really need to know?” He shrugs casually. “I’m not here to debate with you either, but I have no intention of turning back.”
“Let me be clear,” I say, teeth clenched together. “I don’t want to be here.” I grab a croissant from the breakfast spread and fling it at his smug face. “And I certainly don’t want to be here with you.”
I’m about to reach for a platter of fruit to dump on his head when powerful fingers clasp around my wrist, stopping my outburst. I still. His touch like fire on my skin. “Have the captain, or whatever pirate you found willing to do your criminal bidding, turn this yacht back to shore.”
Leo leans forward, his face right beside mine. “Let’s get one thing straight, Aly. I don’t need your permission or your compliance when it comes to your safety. What I say, goes.” This is Leo the predator, the high-ranking vor raised in a family of criminals. “If you want to fight me or rebel, I’ll tie you to the bed and leave you there for the remainder of our…adventure. So you decide. Enjoy a pleasant vacation on the Mediterranean or spend the next week bound to the bed as my captive. To be honest”—his eyes flash with heat—“the second choice has a definite appeal.”
How dare he? As if I’d ever allow that to happen.
Without thinking, I rip myself from his hold and grab a fork off the table, attempting to shove the tines into his thigh, but he’s too quick. He deftly moves out of my way and has me collared by the throat before I can blink. Not so hard that I can’t breathe, just hard enough to make his point.
A traitorous shiver drips down my spine. It’s like my body has a Pavlovian response to his scent, his heat, his voice—it all sends me hurtling back to a time when he was my entire world. My everything.
But those days are long behind us. Now all I see when I look at him is the man who chose his vor stars over a future with me. Because the one thing I made clear to him is that I’d never tie myself to a man in the bratva. The senseless death of my father when I was just seventeen changed how I saw everything. He was killed over what? A property dispute, a run-in with a rival mob? Seeing how it destroyed my mother, her heart irrevocably broken, confirmed one thing: I couldn’t let that be my story. I would steer my own course, shape my own fate, away from the harsh world of the bratva.
Leo knew this from the start.
He studies my face, a muscle in his jaw ticks as he takes in the small scrape on my forehead. The only outward sign that I was hurt in last night’s attack. Then he leans in towards me, his lips grazing the tip of my ear. “I’m not like that jackass you killed yesterday. I’m quicker, sharper, stronger. Better. Remember Aly, I taught you everything you know.”
“Get away from me,” I hiss, enunciating each word.
“Gladly.” With the utterance of that single word, his hand glides downward, the gentlest of touches trailing the curve of my neck. Finally, he loosens his grip and adjusts his posture, standing upright. The loss of his touch is both a relief and a curse. A reminder of how alive I feel with his hands on me. “I’m not here to argue with you. Not when it comes to your safety.” The chair beside me scrapes along the floor, his message loud and clear. “Sit,” he quietly commands again.
I’m about to tell him to fuck off when my stomach rumbles loudly. It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since I’ve had a proper meal, and I’m feeling less than stellar. Without asking my opinion on the matter, he piles a plate high with pancakes, double bacon, and melon. Not the eggs or the sausage, because he knows I don’t like them. Just like he remembered how I like my coffee.
Something twists in my chest at the memory of him bringing me breakfast in bed when we were alone in the Kozlov mansion the summer I turned eighteen.Oursummer.
We were so entwined, so obsessed with learning all the little details of each other. I know he’s right-handed except when he boxes, and that he’d rather drink filter oil than black coffee. While I’d like to erase my brain of all this useless information, I can’t. But the one thing I can do is eat and save my energy for a chance at escape. Or perhaps pushing Leo overboard.
“Fine,” I relent, lowering my body onto the offered chair. “And for the record, I don’t appreciate being collared like a dog.”
“Noted,” he adds with raised eyebrows. But I don’t miss his lip twitch of amusement.
We eat in silence for a while. The food helps to settle my nerves and regain enough composure that when Leo finally peels his gaze off the plate in front of him and levels me with a satisfied look, I can resist throwing a fruit platter his way.
“Where is my phone,” I ask, breaking the silence. “I need a way to contact the outside world.”
“Somewhere safe. There might be a tracking device on it, or worse. You can’t take a chance by using it.”
“What?” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “You can’t just rip me from my life and expect me to cut off all contact with everyone I know.”
“I can and I will.” His voice is hard, unrelenting. He’s become the vor he never wanted to be. “I know you don’t like it, but being out on the open water, constantly on the move, is the best way to keep you safe. Your brother would agree.” I roll my eyes. Right. This is about Yulian. He’s not doing this because he cares about me. “Consider this a vacation.” He clears his throat. “With your fake fiancé.”
My heart stills in my chest. “I’m sorry, I clearly misheard you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You’re very clearly out of your mind, Leo. Mentally unwell,” I say, pointing to my head. “I’m thinking it might be a head injury.” Because it’ll be a cold day in hell when I’d consider touching that man for any other reason than to throttle him.
But Leo isn’t fazed. He leans back in his seat, threading his hands behind his head, a lazy grin on his face. "The staff can't know our true identities or our real reasons for being here. We'll pose as a wealthy American couple. I spontaneously popped the question during our trip to Paris, and here we are, on a spur-of-the-moment trip, celebrating our impending nuptials.”
