“They will find you, and they will make you pay for this.”
Her words echo in my mind like a slap I didn’t see coming. I am not afraid of her family. Her father is using his daughters as pawns to buy alliances that will strengthen his waning position. It is Xander I am interested in. Only Xander.
But I saw the fear behind her defiant eyes, and some irrational part of me came loose and wished, for her sake, that her family was stronger. They have allowed their little printzessa to slip through their fingers and they really should’ve taken better care of her because now that she is here, they will have to spill blood to get her back. Xander’s blood.
“Sit.”
I barely glance at her. In the corner of my eye, I notice the way Sergei steps closer, ready to move her himself if he must. Tamara and Ivana have been following the conversation with furrowed brows. Perhaps they expected an alternative outcome, one in which the printzessa cried and begged for me to let her go home.
It is true that the kind of disrespect she has shown me would have earned anyone else a warning they could not refuse, but Gianna is different. Perhaps it was the way her boldness flickered for a moment to reveal the fear lurking beneath the surface. Or perhaps I simply find her amusing, like a playful puppy with a squeaky toy.
Either way, my anger has cooled, and I am not ready to send her back to the basement. I am not done with her yet.
I suppress a smile when Gianna returns to her seat and sips her coffee.
The eggs are extra buttery this morning, just the way I like them. I am hungry after the wasted evening meal at my parents’ property the evening before, and I have a good feeling about today. I might hold onto the Sedric asset a little longer than planned; she will certainly provide some entertainment that I hadn’t counted on.
I study her face while I eat. Her thick strawberry blond curls make me think of mermaids sitting on rocks and luring sailors to their death. Her eyes are the turquoise of the Indian ocean on a clear day, and her lips…
“Boss?” Sergei’s voice interrupts my reverie. “Do you need me to stay?”
I wave him away.
Mermaids and fucking oceans…
I down my black coffee and refill my cup. Why was she traveling economy class, unguarded? Does her family think so little of her that they would allow her to travel around the world unchaperoned? When this is over, they will have learned a lesson they will never fucking forget, but at what price?
My mother’s words come back to me. “You will learn to love your wife.”
I loved Elena. Is that not punishment enough? Love is overrated. It is for people like Xander Amory and Gianna’s father. It is for men who are prepared to live with the chink in their armor and ultimately lose the war.
“We were able to retrieve some items from the shipment, Pakhan, but the rest… We could not get to it in time.”
Ivana has joined us at the table, her spine straight, eating directly from the tureens as she always does. Another habit that no amount of food will ever break. She eats quickly, shoveling food into her mouth without tasting it, her eyes alert to the slightest threat.
Gianna might be a mermaid, but Ivana is a serpent, poised to strike.
My fists clench. I expect to see a smug expression on Gianna’s face, to hear her gloating over my losses, but she is silent, for now. Oblivious. And it occurs to me that she has no idea her brother-in-law is responsible for the war that has delivered her to my home. Of the good men I’ve lost. The millions of dollars that fallen into the wrong hands.
Months of planning blown to the wind. Shipments that were supposed to solidify our position, not crumble it.
Gianna is here for one reason only, and I must not lose sight of it.
“You are not eating.” I set my fork down and meet her turquoise eyes that are still burning with anger in complete contrast with her calm, delicate features.
This is what makes her so fucking dangerous.
Perhaps I should’ve sent her to Pedro. The dark walls of the Russian prison would’ve quelled that fire.
“I am not hungry.” Even as she says the words out loud, her eyes tell a different story.
“Do not lie to me, Gianna.” I set down my fork and dare her not to look at me. But it seems that my new asset enjoys a challenge.
So be it. She will soon learn that I cannot be beaten. She clearly needs to learn that I am the one in control here, and that I always get what I want, and I can keep this up indefinitely.
Her family will never find her. Seamus—if he even cares enough to look—will never find her. For beneath the gleaming façade of my elegant property lies a fortress that would not feel out of place in an Agatha Christie whodunnit. Hidden passages, reinforced walls, secret tunnels; my little printzessa hasn’t even scraped the surface of the places in which I could hide her if this is the game she wishes to play.
I pick up my fork and use it to point at her plate. “Eat.”
“I’m. Not. Hungry.” She faces me, and the fear in her eyes has been replaced by defiance.
It has become a battle of wills. Game on.
“Fine.” I hold her gaze. “Ya tebya syem.” I will eat you.
“Pakhan.” Tamara’s gentle warning does not even penetrate my thoughts.
I am focused. Gianna will do as I say, or she will suffer the consequences.
Gianna’s furrowed brow as she stares right back at me does not make me gloat as it should. It’s a low move, using a language she does not understand. But I am in it to win. I am captor, she is captive. I am Pakhan, she is Printzessa.
And corruption has never tasted sweeter.
She wants me to translate, but she will never ask. She is far too proud. A purebred mafia daughter. So, let’s see her play the game her way.
She slants her eyes at me and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse but steady. “I’d rather starve.”
I shove my plate away from me. The cutlery crashes across the table, and the coffee cup topples, spilling brown liquid across the pristine white cloth. Tamara jumps to her feet and mops up the spillage. Ivana doesn’t even flinch.
I cover the distance between me and Gianna in a fraction of a second and turn her chair around to face me. I grip her chin in my fist, tilting her face towards me. “That can be arranged.”
She winces as if in pain, but her eyes hold mine. There’s a steely glint in the turquoise now, splashes of silver in the ocean, like the calm before the storm. Gianna tries to wrest her chin from my grip, and that’s when I notice the mottled purple bruising crawling across her jawline and up into her face.
“Who did this?”
“I fell.”
She’s lying, daring me a second time to call her out on it. She’s got spirit, I’ll give her that.
“One more chance, Gianna.” I could slice the atmosphere in the room with a knife, but at this moment, only the two of us exist. “Who did this?”
A glimmer of amusement reaches her eyes, lighting them up momentarily. “I told you; I fell.”
Something snaps inside me, something dark, twisted, and familiar. I admire her balls, but no one plays Leonid Ivanov at his own game and gets away with it.
I grab her fork, sweep the lid off the tureen closest to me, and scoop up a bunch of scrambled eggs. “If you won’t eat willingly, I will feed you myself.”
Her eyes flash. Is she goading me? The woman is playing with fire, and people who play with fire always get burned.
I raise the loaded fork to her mouth, spilling eggs onto the dress she is wearing, as she clamps her lips shut. I grip her chin more tightly and push the fork between her lips, spattering more egg down her chin and onto her lap.
She holds my gaze, faint lines fanning from the corners of her eyes as her mouth stretches into a smile. She’s fucking laughing at me.
Then, without warning, her lips part and she wraps them around the fork. Only, she doesn’t just take the food, she drags it off the fork slowly, deliberately, her tongue licking the underside of the utensil in a way that’s more unsettling than it should be. Her eyes stay locked on mine.
“Well, what do you know?” Her voice is husky. Seductive. “Turns out I can be obedient after all.” She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue.
My grip on the fork tightens. What the hell is she doing?
“I want more, Leonid,” she breathes. “Please.”
She doesn’t blink, and I’m mesmerized by the tiny slivers of silver and green in her eyes, my stomach lurching at the sound of my name on her tongue. Time stands still.
Then Ivana leaps from her seat, yanks the fork out of my hand, and spears more eggs. Before she can force it between Gianna’s lips, I grip her wrist causing her to drop it onto the table with a clatter. I don’t speak. I don’t need to. Ivana backs off, hands raised in surrender.
This is my game. I’m the master, and the sooner Gianna learns that I’m not messing around, the better.
This time, I grab a handful of scrambled eggs with my free hand and shove my fingers into Gianna’s mouth. Shock widens her eyes. Her shoulders tense up. Then she swallows and caresses my fingers with her tongue until it is all I can feel. Warm and moist and… My fucking cock twitches involuntarily inside my pants.
Before I can slide my fingers out of her mouth, her hand covers mine. “Are you enjoying this, Leonid?” She pronounces it Lee-oh-nid, dragging out the syllables. “How about we ditch the audience and go somewhere quiet, huh? Just the two of us?”
I am a man who is accustomed to always being in control. I know my limits. I can drink a bottle of vodka, no sweat, and if one more shot is going to tip me over the edge, I stop. But for the first time in my life, for one fleeting moment, self-control is the last thing on my mind.
Then, with a burst of anger, I remember who I am. And who she is.
I lean closer, so close our breaths mingle. “Don’t push me, Gianna.”
“Oh.” Her bottom lip rolls out, and the tip of her tongue reappears, flicking between her lips and leaving them slick. “I was only playing the game. Perhaps you’d care to explain the rules again.”
“My game. My fucking rules. Follow them or you will find out what happens to those who don’t learn quickly enough.” The cold metal in my voice isn’t enough to tame the growing erection in my pants.
“Is that a promise?” she purrs against my lips, arching an eyebrow.
I release her chin, and she slumps back in her seat, the fight suddenly draining from her, and I realize with a spike of red-hot fury somewhere deep inside my chest that she thinks she has won.
“Take her away.” I go to the window and turn my back on the room.
I don’t trust myself not to cross the line and finish what Gianna started, and I know that if I do, the power will be in her hands. The weakness will be all mine. Just as I explained to my parents. She is my asset. Mine. And she will play by my rules no matter what it takes to break her.
“Pakhan?” Tamara’s gentle voice reaches me, but I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the window. “What shall we do with her?”
I hear it in her voice, the uncertainty. My people need a leader, they do not need a man who buckles at the knees of a beautiful woman. It is the first time I have ever heard uncertainty in Tamara, and it is like a jolt of electricity through my veins.
“Whatever it takes. Just make sure that she remembers this lesson.”
I hear them drag Gianna from the room and I don’t look around.
