Page 8 of Between Power and Passion

I nod numbly. Valentina Makarov... daughter of the most dangerous man in Moscow. Just my luck to be captivated by someone so unattainable, so perilously out of reach.

As we rejoin the game, I steal glances down the path she disappeared, foolishly wishing to catch one more glimpse of her ethereal beauty. But Piotr's warning echoes in my mind: Stay away from Valentina Makarov.

I sit at my desk, staring at the files strewn before me as Alexei enters the room. His usual jovial demeanor is on full display, a stark contrast to the darkness that consumes my thoughts.

"Has our guest eaten?" I ask, not looking up from the papers detailing the latest intelligence on Sergei Makarov's operations.

Alexei chuckles. "No, she hasn't. You're treating her like a princess when she should be our hostage."

My jaw tightens at his teasing tone. "She's our leverage against Makarov. We need her alive and..." I trail off, unable to voice the rest of my thoughts.

Alexei's gaze pierces through me, seeing the truth I try to bury. "You can't even hide it, can you? The way you look at her, the way you speak about her..." He shakes his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

I grunt, shifting in my chair. "Just untie her and let her move freely in the basement. No need to keep her bound like a prisoner."

Alexei's eyes widen in mock surprise. "Oh, so now the little princess gets an upgrade to house arrest? How generous of you, Dmitri."

"Enough," I growl, fixing him with a warning glare.

Undeterred, Alexei singsongs as he turns to leave, "Whatever you say, lover boy."

His taunting laughter echoes down the hall, and I'm left alone with the turmoil of my conflicted heart. Why did I have to fucking fall in love with the enemy? Why did I have to still be in love with her?

I bolt upright as one of my men bursts through the door, his face flushed with panic. "Boss, the girl... she's escaped!"

My heart skips a beat as the words register. "How the hell is that possible?" I demand, already on my feet and striding toward him. There's no mistaking the implication in his wide eyes as he repeats, "The girl, sir."

Valentina.

A thousand thoughts race through my mind, but one question takes precedence. "Where the fuck is Alexei?"

The man swallows hard. "She... she hit him in the groin and ran out before he could stop her."

A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips. I expected as much from the Valentina I used to know. I quickly wipe the smile from my face, tamping down the surge of pride and affection. Now is not the time for sentimentality. I need to find her before she gets hurt or does something reckless.

"Gather the men," I bark, already moving toward the exit. "We need to find her before..."

Before what? Before she gets hurt? Escapes for good? Realizes the depth of my betrayal? The thoughts swirl in my head as I break into a sprint down the corridor.

I'm not worried about her attempting to flee—this house is like a labyrinth, and she has nowhere to go. No, a far more primal fear grips me: the thought of her getting hurt. My men won't hesitate to shoot her on sight. Fuck, I can't have that happen.

"Tell them not to shoot or engage. Did you fucking hear me? Don't shoot!"

Just as I round the corner, I see one of my men coming toward me with Valentina slung over his shoulder. She’s cursing and struggling, her fists pounding against his back.

"Put me down, you brute!" she screams, kicking her legs futilely.

"Boss, I got her," the man says, slightly out of breath. "She was fast but not fast enough."

I take in her disheveled appearance. Her hair is wild. And then my gaze lands on the bloody gash on her arm.

"Valentina!" The name tears from my lips as I rush toward them. "Are you okay? What happened?"

She seems to calm at the sound of my voice. "Put her down gently," I order, and the man carefully sets her on her feet. She stumbles slightly but regains her balance, glaring at me.

"Are you okay?" I repeat, my voice softer, more concerned.

She doesn't respond, her chest heaving as she eyes me warily. Her gaze flicks to the wound on her arm, and she winces.

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