Page 28 of Embrace of the Russian Tiger

“You think you’re ready for the truth?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You’re not. Here is the truth. You are a nobody to know the truth. Do you understand? Who do you think you are to barge in here and make demands? Answer me,” Maxim hissed with his hoarse voice.

I laughed bitterly, but it was tinged with pain. “Ah, I knew it. This is exactly what you want. You’ve been keeping me prisoner, Maxim. You like to keep little prisoners, don’t you? You enjoy control.”

His grip tightened slightly, his eyes flashing with something dark, something dangerous. “You think I’m controlling you? You have no idea how much worse it could be.”

I felt the anger rise in me again, mixing with something else—something I didn’t want to name. “Then explain it to me,” I said, my voice breaking with frustration.

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his grip on my wrist tightening, his body tense with barely restrained control. I could feel his breath, hot against my skin, the heat of his body pressed against mine. My own body was betraying me, leaning into him, drawn to him even in my anger.

“I hate you,” I whispered, but the words felt hollow. Because I didn’t hate him. Not really. Not completely. And that realization terrified me more than anything.

His grip loosened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to let me go. But instead, he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “You should hate me, Anna. You should hate everything about me. But you don’t. And that’s what scares you the most.”

My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as his words sank in. He was right. I didn’t hate him. Not the way I wanted to. Not the way I should. And that truth hit me harder than anything else.

Before I could respond, before I could even process what I was feeling, he stepped back, releasing my wrist. His eyes were cold again, his expression unreadable.

“You want the truth?” he said, his voice flat. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I stood frozen, trying to process the storm of emotions swirling inside me. My wrist still tingled from where his hand had been, my body humming with the lingering sensation of his closeness. But beyond the physical, my mind was racing, trying to catch up to what he had just said.

I had pushed him, demanded answers, and now he was offering them—but at what cost?

Maxim stepped back, his expression once again impenetrable, that cold mask firmly in place. But I had seen behind it, if only for a fleeting moment. I had seen something raw, something real. It made what was happening between us even more complicated, more confusing. I hated him for the way he controlled my life, the way he manipulated everything, and yet… I couldn’t deny the magnetic pull that always seemed to draw me closer, no matter how hard I tried to resist it.

He paced slowly around his desk, each movement deliberate, calculated. Every inch of him screamed control, dominance, but I knew now that there were cracks in that armor. I had seen them, felt them. He wasn’t as invincible as he wanted me to believe.

"You are the daughter of Rossi," Maxim finally said, his voice clipped, like the words tasted bitter on his tongue. "The man I killed. The man who killed my Katya… the man who destroyed my family. That’s the truth."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I staggered back, my breath catching in my throat. My mind spun, grasping for something solid, something to hold on to. I was the daughter of the man Maxim had killed. It is one thing to overhear something like this and then learn it from some random voice in some sex club. Maxim’s words were the sole confirmation I needed. I had been dragged into a world of power, revenge, and death, and I hadn’t even known it. My heart pounded in my chest, a sickening rhythm that made it hard to breathe.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" I demanded, my voice shaking with anger and confusion. "Why didn’t you tell me who I really am?"

Maxim’s expression didn’t change, but his jaw clenched, a flicker of something behind those icy eyes. "It is not that simple, Anna.”

“Not that simple? I think it’s quite simple,” I repeated, my voice rising with frustration. "What else is there to know? Why the secrecy? Why not just tell me?”

Maxim stepped closer, his voice low and hard, his control slipping just enough for me to see the tension behind his words. “There is nothing else to tell, Anna. This information needed to be confirmed. Now it is confirmed, and you will stay here until I order you otherwise. This is protection, whether you like it or not. There is nothing else to know. That is it for you. Nothing will change in your life.”

His words swirled around me, but they didn’t bring clarity. His words were like a slap in the face. Maybe the man on the intercom was right.

"But why?" I asked, my voice soft, barely above a whisper now. "Why keep me here? Why not just… let me go? If “this is it” for me?”

Maxim’s eyes softened, just for a moment. And in that moment, I saw it. And then just like it appeared, it disappeared. His eyes went dark again.

He cut himself off, his jaw tightening again as if he had said too much. But I didn’t need him to finish the sentence. I understood now.

He hadn’t just kept me close because of some twisted sense of duty or protection. He had kept me close because he cared. And that realization hit me harder than anything else.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I looked up at him. "Maxim…"

But before I could say more, his hand was on my wrist again, pulling me closer, the heat of his body overwhelming. His grip wasn’t rough this time, but firm, as if he needed to feel that I wasreal, that I was still there. The tension between us had shifted again, from anger to something far more dangerous, far more intense.

I should have pulled away. I should have pushed him back, told him I didn’t want any part of this. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t deny the way my heart was racing, the way my skin burned under his touch, the way my body leaned into him, desperate for more.

"I hate you," I whispered, the words escaping me before I could stop them.

His lips curled into a dark, knowing smile. "No, you don’t."

---