Arranged By The Bravta King

9

Mikhail

Maria tries to run the moment we take her out of the limo beneath my building. Rurik catches her quickly, but not before she kicks him in the shin. Cursing, he hands her to me. My grip on her arm is unyielding as she stumbles off the elevator and into my penthouse.

When the door opens at the penthouse, her fear is displaced by wonder and awe. She stares slack-jawed at the pristine floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city below us, and then she does a double take at the artwork on the walls.

Warhol, Basquiat, Malevich, Mapplethorpe, Nevelson. And, of course, Rothko.

The open-concept living area is filled with modern-era furniture, a sleek fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and artifacts. There is undeniable admiration in her eyes as she tries to take in every detail of her new luxurious surroundings.

Maria walks in a trance toward a wall that's not there. Her fingers touch the glass as she looks out at the world at midnight. The lights of Manhattan sparkle in the darkness as if the stars above have landed on Earth.

Slowly, she turns to look at me and reality crashes back into her eyes. I grab her before she can think of doing something stupid.

"Let go of me!" When I don't respond, she stares at Rurik in desperation. "Please don't let him hurt me!"

Rurik's face remains an impassive mask as I pull Maria toward the stairs. All around us, household staff avert their eyes and ears, deliberately deaf to her desperately begging for help. They know better than to interfere.

Slowly, the reality of her situation settles in: no one is coming to help her. I feel the strength sap from her arms.

"Please," Maria whispers, her voice trembling. "Please just let me go."

The mix of desperation, fear, and a tinge of anger touches a nerve, and I'm once again hit with the irresistible need to protect her and assure her that I'm not the monster she thinks I am. But I offer her no such assurances. A pretty face and a few tears aren't going to trick me.

"Almost there." I guide her toward an opulent staircase that spirals up to the penthouse's top floor. Up and up we go, each step like another nail in the coffin of her hopes for escape.

"No one is coming to help you, Maria." I keep my voice quiet and even as I drag her up the stairs. "Cooperate, and your ordeal will end quickly."

To my surprise, all other emotions begin fading from her eyes as she stares at me until only anger is left. Those large, innocent eyes now burn with a new determination. But a determination to do what? Resist? Fight?

Suddenly, my mind is filled with images of what she might try to do to me ... and how I might turn it right around on her. A savage thrum rushes through my body at the thought. Yes, the righteous part of me wants to protect her, but her innocent, angry stare is goading a monster to the surface.

And that monster wants to break her.

I tighten my grip on her arm, and the monster inside purrs in satisfaction as defiance dies in her eyes, revealing the fear underneath.

Good. Fear will make her obedient. Fear will make her talk. If she really doesn't know anything, maybe there's a chance for her. But she'll have to prove her innocence.

"Why are you doing this?" Maria grabs hold of a railing, refusing to let go, and whispers, "Just tell me, please."

She gasps when I invade her space, pinning her tiny body against the railing. My weight presses against her and those wide eyes lock on my cool stare.

"Do you really want to know?" I ask coldly as I slowly pry her fingers—one by one—off the thin metal.

I become keenly aware of just how close we are. Her soft lower lips tremble underneath me, tempting me to come closer until I get a splash of her soft, unique scent.

Is she wondering how serious I am? Is she wondering if I have the stomach for this?

My fingers are still wrapped around hers—delicate and cool—and her face flushes as I press myself even closer until she's practically shaking against me.

"Here's the truth, Maria." I release her fingers and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She shudders at the gesture when our skin makes contact. But from what, I wonder. Fear?

Or excitement?

What's the difference? The monster inside of me growls, urging me on, and I feel my own heartbeat quickening in pace at her proximity to me.

No.

I pull back suddenly, keeping myself in check as I tug her over the last step. She stumbles alongside me down a long hallway. We walk past a glass wall where everyone can see her struggle, but no one dares turn their gaze toward us.

"You're here to marry me."

Maria

I gasp when I hear those words. Marry him? I hardly even know him! Two days ago, I thought he was a good guy, the hero I was looking for. And now?

He just kidnapped me, dragged me to his home, and is now telling me that I'm going to marry him?

"Is this some kind of a sick joke?" I ask.

He yanks me close to him. A rush of electricity courses through my body at his touch. A dark smile spreads across his beautiful face. "I don't joke about such things, Maria."

My breath catches in my throat and I want to pull away, but there's nowhere to go. I do my best to hide my fear as I tilt my chin in defiance against his withering gaze.

"I don't know who or what you think you are," I tell him, trying to keep my voice even. "Or what you want from me. But I won't marry you."

"That's where you're wrong, princess." His eyes dance in the low light as his powerful body covers mine. Shamefully, I feel my own body responding to the warmth rolling off him. The intensity of his gaze leaves my knees weak. And then I feel it. A deep, pulsing heat growing between the two of us. I blink as my face flushes in response to his proximity as my blood sings in response, and I try to look away.

His finger hooks under my chin and tilts me back until I'm drowning in his emerald eyes.

"This isn't your choice anymore."

Before I can respond, he suddenly pulls away, dragging me behind him up the stairs until we come to a closed door. There's an inscrutable look on his face, and I feel my knees tremble in anticipation at what lies behind it.

But I feel more than fear right now. I feel something else. And it takes me a moment before I recognize that feeling as:

Excitement.

"Please," I beg, my heart racing. "It will kill my father if he finds out."

Somehow, the mere mention of my father sends something flashing across those gorgeous green eyes. His lips curl in response until it forms a dark smile across his handsome features.

"Then let's hope he loves you as much as you think, princess."

Before I can respond, he opens the door and shoves me in.