Page 12 of Addiction

“You won’t be alone with me,” his lips quirked. “For now, at least.”

When she stayed put, he shook his head. “I’m afraid your little stunt has caused quite an upheaval at my party.” Sure enough, a crowd had gathered around, and several people were staring at them. “We can do this the easy way; you walk inside on your own, or I will carry you in. Your choice,moya tigritsa.”

Her jaw dropped. Surely, he wouldn’t dare. But it was Armaan Oshnov. He was wild and unpredictable. But all these people around him were his guests. Of course, he wouldn’t behave like a tyrant at his own party. Surely, he wouldn’t…

Before she could ponder more, Armaan swept her off her feet. Oh God. Her heart stopped and her mind shut down. Shock rendered her speechless as Armaan carried her bridal style. She struggled, but his hold on her was firm. She inhaled, and his scent hit her nose. Oud, mixed with leather and musk. Very nic… No. She did not, absolutely not, like his scent, and she definitely didn’t remember it.

What she ought to focus on was that, once again, he was manhandling her, like the first time they’d met. And once again, she was getting carried away by his heady scent instead of protesting. Anger surged in her veins. She was so mad at him and at herself. Before she could open her mouth to scream, Armaan had brought her inside a warm room in the house.

The second he set her on her feet, she swung her hand out to slap him. He caught it easily, shaking his head.

“You got away with hitting me once in the past, on the yacht,” he said. “It’s not going to happen ever again.”

“Then don’t fucking touch me without my permission.” She struggled to get him to release her hand, but he held it firmly.

“Why are you always so mad at me?” he asked.

“Leave my hand.”

He spread his fingers apart, dropping her hand. “All you needed to do was ask. Anything for you,moya tigritsa.”

“I hate you,” she spat out.

“No, you don’t,” he grinned, sounding supremely confident. God, how she hated him.

She slammed her hands on her hips. “Why am I here?”

“Because I needed to get to the bottom of your little altercation.”

“And I don’t care about what you want to do. I want to leave.”

His gaze hardened. “Do I need to remind you that you have come to my party, once again, and caused a disruption, once again? Do you remember what the consequences of it were the last time?”

The consequence then was that Sheena and she had been held hostage by him and his brothers until Rajiv had come to negotiate their release. She couldn’t afford a repeat of that. Her breath hitched. Of course, he noticed that because the bastard smirked.

“Finally, you understand the situation you’re in. Now, sit still and behave while I figure out this mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” she fumed.

“Then don’t act like one.”

She kept her mouth shut, looking around for a way to escape. The room was a study of some sort. There was a wide desk onone side and a small seating area with sofas and armchairs set in front of the fireplace. Large bay windows were on the opposite side. The only exit was the one she’d entered from.

Armaan barked out an order in Russian, and the bartender entered, followed by Vasily and two other security guards who ushered the Middle Eastern man inside. Blood smeared the bottom half of his face, and his shirt was covered with red from the front. Good, fucker deserved the punch she’d given him.

Vasily looked from her to Armaan, and then looked straight ahead, clearly refusing to acknowledge her in front of his irate boss.

“I need an explanation,” Armaan said aloud in English, his tone deathly cold.

Immediately, the bartender came forward, speaking in rapid Russian. He pointed to her and then to the other man in between sentences.

Armaan turned to her, his face filled with fury. She readied herself to give him a scathing response to any accusation he levelled at her, but what came out of his mouth was, “Did he hurt you?”

She froze. She hadn’t expected him to ask that. The butterflies that had settled down woke up again and danced harder, making her belly hurt.

He lowered his face to her eye level. “Did. He. Hurt. You. Navya?” Violence and danger lurked in his tone.

“I think I hurt him more,” she finally said.

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