Tension corded my muscles. “I’m not his prisoner.”
“It’s okay, Addison.” He stepped closer. Too close. His gaze roamed over my face, settling on my lips. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not.” I was afraid, but it had nothing to do with Luka.
Vasilije’s grin was like the Cheshire cat’s, showing his perfectly white teeth and dimples. “Come on. I see you walking around here, following him like you’re his little pet. You don’t have to be his fucktoy.”
My blood roared in my veins and alarms blared in my head, but I did my best to not show any of it. “That’s not how it is.”
“What’s it like, then?” He inched closer, and I took a step back. “Tell me what a pretty, smart girl like you is doing with a boring guy like him. Doesn’t it make you crazy?”
“What?” I moved back again as he advanced on me.
His grin fell. He snatched the wine glass from my hand and set it on the table, and he affected his voice to a patronizing tone. “Luka’s ‘so smart,’ and he’s ‘such a hard worker,’ and so perfect. He makes me fucking crazy.”
My insides churned as I bumped backward into the wall. “He’s not perfect.”
“Yeah,” he said, annoyed. “He’s probably perfectly imperfect.” Vasilije reached out and slid his hand around my cheek, cupping my face. I jerked away from his unwelcomed touch and his hand was icy cold, in stark contrast to his brother’s. “Gets whatever he wants. He wanted you, and takes you, even if he’s gotta hold you here against your will.”
“I can leave whenever I want,” I said, my voice small.
He gave a humorless laugh, knowing it was a lie. Luka had given me a lot of freedom, but I still wasn’t free.
“Come on.” Vasilije’s hushed tone was gentle, yet scary. “Let me help you. I can talk to my father.” He moved so fast there wasn’t time to stop him. He tugged open the knot holding my robe closed. “You don’t have to be with Luka.”
I tried to duck under the thick arms that trapped me against the wall, but his hands were inside my robe, sliding around my waist.
“No!” I said, loudly.
“Shh. I’m not perfect, but I’m better than him.” The cold from his hands seeped through the thin fabric of my tank top. My shiver was instant, and I shuddered harder as he leaned closer, readying to cover my mouth with his. “And if you’re free, you can be with whoever you want. Right now,” he whispered, “in this moment.”
“I want him,” I blurted out. “I’m Luka’s.”
Vasilije halted, and looked unconvinced.
It urged me on. “I’m his, Vasilije, by choice. It didn’t start out that way, but that’s how it is now. I belong with him. I think he loves me,” I said, startled by how strong and confident my words were. They broke free and poured from my mouth. “And I know I’m in love with him.”
Vasilije’s expression soured, and his thoughts were visible in his eyes. He did not like losing out to his brother. His hands gripped tighter, driving his fingers into my skin.
“You’re hurting me,” I gasped and tried to get free.
“Get your fucking hands off of her!”
I’d been so focused on the threat of one Markovic, I hadn’t noticed the other when he appeared in the dining room. Luka was shirtless, with pajama pants slung loosely around his hips. He moved as a blur, throwing his brother off of me, sending Vasilije crashing against the buffet in the corner.
“Fuck, calm down,” his brother said. “We were just talking.”
There was no calming down for Luka. He got between me and his brother, using himself as a protective shield. His hands were clenched in fists and the muscles in his back and shoulders strained, tight beneath his skin. His deep voice was terrifying and believable. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you.”
“Whatever, Luka. I was testing her loyalty to you. You should thank me—”
“Get the fuck out of my sight.”
Vasilije’s angry footsteps plodded away and up the stairs. It wasn’t until a door slammed that Luka spun to face me, his expression full of alarm. “Are you all right?”
Adrenaline snaked in my system, but relief was also working its way through, and I nodded. Luka pulled me away from the wall and crushed me into his arms. His urgent mouth locked onto mine as if desperate to confirm our connection, and I matched him, eager.
“How much did you hear?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead he scooped me up and sat me on the dining table, and his kiss leveled me. He’d heard it all, and I blinked back the overwhelming tears that flooded my eyes. I loved him. It was my final surrender.
I flung the robe off my arms. I grasped at the hem of my tank top, lifting it up—