I consider her question and know deep down that I would see any casualty as collateral damage. After all, I’m no saint and she should know as much. I’m a mobster who stole her away from her home and locked her in a dank basement. If she thought that I’m a good person, she was wrong.
“What do you expect me to say, Anya? You know who I am. I’m the pakhan of the Morozov Bratva. It’s in my job description to be ruthless.”
She nods. “I know.”
I sense that learning about her father turning on her mother and killing her has her shook. She wants to know if in the kind of man that could do that to his wife and children. “However, I’d never let that ruthless nature bleed into my personal life, if that’s what you mean.”
Those crystal blue eyes shimmer with what I can only describe as hope. Hope that what’s happening between us could be more than just sex. A deep connection that we both feel.
Taking a wife has never crossed my mind until I set my eyes on my printessa, but it’s insane to think that could become a reality. Marrying the daughter of my enemy who I kidnapped would exacerbate this war.
“So if you were married, you wouldn’t murder your wife if she was about to run away?”
Anya isn’t shy to say it how it is.
I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t.” Tension builds within my body, forcing me to crack my neck. “If I was married, my wife would never want to run away in the first place.”
Her brow arches. “That’s a bit arrogant.” For the first time tonight, a whisper of a smirk flutters across her lips.
“It’s a fact.” I take a sip of my whiskey. “Would you like to marry me and find out?” I tease.
Her cheeks flush a dark pink, which tells me she would indeed like to spend the rest of her life shackled to me — the man who kidnapped her. “Don’t be an idiot.”
I shake my head. “I’m serious. You are mine already, married or not.”
Her eyes narrow and she glares at me. “Says who?”
I smirk. “Me.”
She shakes her head, but she can’t help but smile. “You are so arrogant.”
“It’s warranted, though, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps.” She lifts her glass of wine to her lips and takes a sip, watching me over the rim.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to resist taking you into the bathroom and having my way with you here.”
Her eyes widen, but there’s excitement in them. The idea turns her on and that in turns makes me harder than nails.
“Get up now and go into the ladies’ bathroom.”
“You can’t be serious?”
I lean forward, holding her gaze. “Deadly.”
She licks her bottom lip and glances nervously around the busy restaurant. “What if—”
“No questions, printessa. Do as you are told.”
Her brow furrows, but like the natural submissive that she is, she gets up and walks to the ladies’ bathroom.
I give it sixty seconds before I stand and follow her, driven by a desire that is all consuming. Anya is standing in front of the mirror, looking in it when I enter.
“Anyone in here?” I mouth.
She shakes her head.
I turn and lock the door behind me. “Good.”