Page 8 of Embrace of the Russian Tiger

“Take her to her room,” I said, my voice clipped, still facing the window. “She’s not to leave until I say so.”

Mikhail nodded silently, and I could hear Anna’s soft intake of breath as she realized what was happening. She wasn’t a guest here. She was a prisoner.

“Come with me,” Mikhail said, his voice as cold and distant as ever.

I listened to the soft shuffle of her footsteps as she followed him out of the room, the sound of the door closing behind them echoing through the silence.

Finally, I was alone.

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair, the tension in my body refusing to dissipate. I should’ve been satisfied. I had gotten exactly what I wanted. Anna was under my control. She was mine.

But instead of feeling triumphant, I felt… unsettled.

She wasn’t supposed to get under my skin like this. I had spent years building this empire, working to erase every trace of Rossi and his legacy, and now I was so close to finishing the job. Anna was the final piece, the key to securing everything Rossi had left behind. But the way my body had reacted to her, the way my mind kept circling back to that moment when she looked at me with those defiant eyes, unsettled me in ways I couldn’t explain.

I wasn’t a man ruled by emotions. I wasn’t someone who let desire cloud his judgment. But there was something about Anna—something I hadn’t anticipated.

I could still feel the warmth of her skin against mine, the way her breath had hitched when I had called her a “good girl.” The raw, primal need that surged through me whenever I looked at her was unlike anything I had felt in years.

It was dangerous.

I clenched my jaw, forcing those thoughts out of my mind. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by her. Not now. Not when I was so close to completing my mission.

Anna was a means to an end, nothing more. I would break her if I had to, use her to achieve my goals, and then discard her when the time came. That’s all this was. Power. Control. The same game I had been playing for years.

And yet…

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this time, the game was different.

I wasn’t sure if it was curiosity, desire, or something darker, but whatever it was, I knew one thing for certain. Anna wasn’t going to be as easy to break as I had thought. And somehow, that only made me want her more.

CHAPTER 5

“Ibelong to Maxim Ivanov.”

I told myself this was survival. That I had no other choice. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could escape someone like him, someone who held life and death in his hands as casually as he signed business deals. But even as I sat in the room he had placed me in—myroom, as he’d called it—the reality of it all didn’t sit right. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions: anger, confusion, and a strange, nagging curiosity about the man who had dragged me back into this nightmare.

I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the bed, my eyes tracing the elegant molding of the ceiling. This mansion was nothing like the simple life I’d led with the Petrovs, nothing like the small comforts I’d gotten used to. Everything here was designed to impress, from the extravagant art hanging on the walls to the gleaming marble floors. But instead of awe, it all made me feel… trapped.

I shifted restlessly, unable to shake the feeling of unease crawling up my spine. Agreeing to his conditions hadn’t just been an agreement—it had been a surrender. I’d bound myself to a man I didn’t understand, a man who looked at me likeI was something to be used. And yet, when I looked at him, I saw something else lurking beneath the surface. Something dangerous but enticing. I could never forget how he spoke about his sister. Never.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts swirling in my head, but the tension in my body wouldn’t let me rest.

I wasn’t used to being locked away like this. I was feisty, restless—always moving, always exploring. The walls of this mansion felt like they were closing in on me, and I needed space, air, freedom —even if only for a few minutes.

A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told me it was late enough. Everyone was probably asleep. No one would notice if I looked around. Just a quick walk. I’d be back before anyone knew I was gone.

I slipped off the bed, tiptoeing to the door. My heart raced as I turned the handle, half expecting it to be locked, but it opened smoothly.

“I’m not a prisoner,” I reminded myself. “I can at least explore this place.”

The mansion was eerily silent as I crept down the hallway, my bare feet barely making a sound on the polished floors. The dim lighting cast long shadows, and I felt like I was walking through some kind of forbidden labyrinth, each corner hiding secrets I wasn’t supposed to uncover.

I wandered aimlessly at first, letting my curiosity guide me. Room after room, all filled with cold, expensive things, like the mansion was more a display than a home. I almost felt like an intruder.

Then I heard it—the rhythmic sound of something heavy hitting the ground. A soft grunt, a pause, and then the sound again. It came from a room at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar, a faint glow of light spilling out.

I hesitated.

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