“Proch.” Out.
“Ona derzkaya.” She is feisty.
Lev leaves the room and Mikhail shuts the door. He’s dressed the same. Nothing has changed besides his expression. He walks to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the muscles in his back filling his suit as he moves the curtains all the way open.
I inch toward him so I can look out the window. I make a sound and my eyes open so wide it feels like they could fall out of their sockets. There’s nothing out there besides a black ocean. The current is still, leaving a clear reflection of the bright moon on the surface of the water.
My mouth runs dry as it hangs open in shock. Horror settles in my throat as I feel a panic attack ready to hit me at any moment.
The psycho man seems content with my reaction as he turns his head back to look at me. The corner of his mouth lifts in a satisfied smile.
I’m in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way Dad will find me. I know for a fact this was not the plan.
As much as I want to keep a relaxed composure, fear smacks me right in the face. “Oh God,” I mutter as I pace around the room with unsteady breaths.
Based on Mikhail’s reaction, I might as well give him a bowl of popcorn to enjoy the show.
This is absolutely fucking insane. Who the hell does this?
An nervous laugh slips past my lips. I mean, it’s brilliant, really. Even in my position I can admire the brains behind his devious plan—whatever thisplanis.
I stop marching around the room when I begin to feel lightheaded. My head falls back when Mikhail takes this as an invitation to approach me.
“Arms up,” he says just as he stops right in front of me.
My mouth falls open slightly as I register his demand.What the fuck is wrong with these men?“I’m not your whore.” I glance at him with pure disgust. “Fuck off.”
“Arms. Up. I will not ask nicely again.”
My words mean nothing to him. It wouldn’t shock me if he didn’t even register what I said to him. He saw I didn’t act on his demand, and in his messed-up mind that translated to giving me another command.
I can already tell he’s the kind of man who never hears the word “no.” Mikhail won’t stop until he gets his way.
He looks at me as if I’m a bother when he’s the one who kidnapped me and trapped me on a fucking boat. If he doesn’t want to look at me, he can take me back where he found me.
The only hope I can cling to is that I’ll find out what he wants. After all, I’ll never be able to get out of this if I don’t know how to work his mind. I need to do exactly what my dad once told me: “Find their weak point and don’t stop digging.”
All my life he’s told me there are men who’d love nothing more than to see my head on a stick. I violated some treaty, and now I’m what everyone wants. Dad’s lifelong goal is to keep me sheltered forever. Of course, his boss has other goals in mind. Though I didn’t think it would happen like this. I understand everything now in a way I couldn’t before.
Mikhail looks satisfied with being the one to find me first.
“I will not tell you nicely again. Fuck off,” I say once more, growing agitated.
This gets his attention quickly. His neck thickens when his head falls back as he looks at me with irritation. He grabs me by the hip and throws me onto the bed as if I’m as light as a feather. Before I can scurry away, he pulls on my right leg, dragging me to the edge of the bed so I’m closer to him.
“This mouth of yours,” he says as he reaches toward my lips, “is so foul.”
If I allow the rage to take over any more I’ll spit on his face, but I’m smarter than that. I try to turn my head away from him, but his grip keeps me still. His body hovers over mine, making me feel incapable. It’d be useless to fight him; he’s nearly double my size.
His arm snakes around my waist as he lifts me off the bed. I raise my arms up no matter how much I don’t want to. Tugging on the bottom of my dress, Mikhail brings it up past my waist. I shoot him a glare before he lifts the dress off my body completely, and he returns it. His cheeks look sunken, defining the structure of his face. He’s beautiful in a sick way. He has full lips, a razor-sharp jaw, and a narrow nose. Underneath his black suit I know there’s muscle, and that thought alone makes me want to run for my life. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to make small talk. He’s demanding and cruel. People like him never talk—which only makes this harder for me.
He doesn’t look like the man in the picture I saw years ago.
My head levels with his chest and my gaze falls down his torso, catching sight of a knife and gun placed in the waistband of his pants. He wears them exactly like the men in my family do.
In an odd way, I find comfort in the thought. I’ve dealt with men like him so many times it might give me a fighting chance.
I look up at him with my jaw clenched and reach quickly for his knife. He grabs my hand before I can get the weapon and twists me around so my back is against him. I’m winded from the way his hands dig into my breastbone.