Page 6 of Embrace of the Russian Tiger

“Maxim,” Mikhail said quietly, his voice steady as always.

I finally turned from the window, and my eyes landed on her.

The girl who had once been nothing more than a loose end was now a woman.

Anna stood just a few feet away, her body tense, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She had grown, matured, but the vulnerability was still there, barely hidden beneath the surface. Her soft brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

I should have felt nothing. After all, she was just a pawn in a game far bigger than she could ever understand. But as my gaze swept over her, something inside of me shifted. My body betrayed me. A pulse of raw, primal desire coursed through me, surging up without warning.

I could feel the blood rushing to my cock, the sudden and uncontrollable urge to claim her, to bend her to my will.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain composed. She was beautiful, yes—irritatingly so—but that didn’t change the fact that she was here for one reason only.

To be controlled. To be silenced.

I kept my face cold, unreadable. She didn’t need to know the effect she had on me.

“Anna,” I said, my voice low, the sound of her name slipping from my lips like a threat.

She flinched slightly but held her ground, her eyes darting between me and Mikhail. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable, but there was something else too. A flicker of curiosity, of defiance. I could see it in the way her hands trembled, even as she tried to keep them steady.

She didn’t understand why she was here, and I liked that. Confusion made her vulnerable, malleable.

“Why am I here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though there was an edge of strength to it that surprised me. She was scared, yes, but she wasn’t crumbling. Not yet.

I smirked, taking a slow step toward her. Her eyes followed my every movement, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths.

“You’re here,” I began, circling her like a predator stalking its prey, “because you’ve been living on borrowed time. You should have been dead years ago.”

She swallowed hard, her throat working as she processed my words. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Of course you don’t.” I stopped directly in front of her, towering over her small frame. The scent of her—something light and floral—reached me, stirring that primal need again. “Mikhail spared you when I gave him a direct order to kill you.”

Her eyes widened, flicking to Mikhail, who stood stone-faced in the background. Then they snapped back to me, a mixture of fear and confusion darkening her expression.

“What matters is that you’re here now. And you will do exactly as I say if you want to keep breathing. I always wanted a living toy. Here you are.”

She blinked, her fear palpable now, but still, that thread of curiosity lingered in her gaze. “What do you want from me?” Her voice was steadier this time, but there was a note of desperation beneath the surface.

“You see, Anna… I don’twantanything from you. It is you who should want something from me. And that “something’ is your life. You are not supposed to be alive. Mikhail defied my orders. Yet here you are. Standing in front of me. And I want to give you the opportunity to live, but you will live here from now on,” I said, my voice calm, measured. “Your silence in exchange for your life. You belong here now. You belong to me.”

She recoiled, her lips parting in disbelief. “What?” she breathed, shaking her head. “I don’t… I don’t belong to anyone.”

I chuckled darkly, leaning forward and resting my hands on the desk, closing the distance between us. “You’ve always belonged to someone, Anna. Whether it was Rossi or your sweet little adoptive family. You’ve never been free.”

Her breath hitched, and I saw the flicker of defiance flare brighter for a split second. “I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered, her voice shaking with the effort to stay strong.

I straightened, watching her carefully. She was trying so hard to stay composed, but the cracks were already forming. It wouldn’t take much to break her.

“You don’t have to ask,” I said coldly. “It’s the way things are. The world you’ve been hiding from doesn’t care about what you want.”

She stared down at the contract, her hands trembling as she reached for the pen. But just before she could pick it up, she froze. Her eyes flicked back up to mine, and for a moment, I saw something that almost resembled resolve.

“What if I don’t agree?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but the challenge was there.

I smirked, feeling the dark satisfaction settle in my chest. “Then I kill you,lapochka.”

Her breath caught, and I could see the fear flickering back to the forefront. But there was something else too. She wasn’t entirely cowed. She was trying to process what was happening, trying to figure out her next move. She was smarter than I had given her credit for.

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