Page 51 of Ruthless Lullaby

He looks powerful and dangerously handsome as ever, his dark hair perfectly styled like he just stepped out of an upscale barber shop. His chiseled features are illuminated by the soft glow of the car's interior lights. There's something frightening and intense in his expression that makes my heart race, but it also ignites a fire low in my belly.

My body's tense and ready to flee. At the same time, I'm inexplicably drawn to him. My skin prickles with awareness, and I feel a shameful heat building between my thighs. It's as if my body and mind are at war - one screaming danger, the other begging for his touch.

"Maron," I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and unwanted arousal. "What... what are you doing here?"

He smiles, a slow, predatory grin that sends tiny waves of shivers down my spine. "I wanted to see you." His eyes travel down my body. "I see you liked my gifts."

I glance down at the dress he sent me earlier today, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable under his penetrating gaze. "I do, thank you." I look up at him, my heart hammering in my chest. "Why did you send someone to practically kidnap me off the street? Do you have any idea how much I’m freaking out right now?"

Maron chuckles. It’s a low, smooth hum that makes my skin prickle with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "I told you already. I wanted to see you. And I always get what I want."

I don’t know what to make of his words. Maybe I should be afraid, terrified even. Maybe Betty was right: Maron Korolev is the walking definition of danger and power. If anything, I should be screaming for help, fighting tooth and nail to escape. But likethe stupid woman I am, I find myself irresistibly tempted by the whole situation.

It's like there's this invisible force pulling me towards Maron, drawing me in like an electric magnet, designed to pull a freaking cargo ship. It’s hard to describe the intensity of it with words. The rational part of my brain is telling me to run, to get as far away from him as physically possible. Then, there's the other part of me, a part I barely recognize. A part craves the dark promise in his eyes, the unspoken challenge in his words.

All of it is totally ridiculous. It’s like I’m under a spell, every time he’s around me. Maybe Iamunder a spell. Maybe he’s using some sort of weird dark magic on me to make me submit to his charms. I wouldn’t put it past him. Whatever the reason, I find my body responding to his proximity in ways that are beyond my control.

"And what if I don't want to be taken?" I hear myself say.

Maron's deep, blue eyes flash with a dangerous light. His hand gently lands on my thigh, gripping it ever so slightly. "I think you do, Mindy," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. "I can see it in your eyes and feel it in the way your body trembles when I’m close to you. You're drawn to me, just as I'm drawn to you."

He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from my face, allowing his fingers to linger on my cheek for a moment. I feel my breath catch in my throat, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure even Pavel can hear it behind the corridor that separates the car’s front from its back.

"I told you already, I don't like the idea of you singing in that bar," he murmurs, his voice low and intense. "Especially when you’re wearing the dress I gave you."

Somehow, I force myself to snap out of this whole goddamn spell and regain control of the situation. Who the hell does he think he is? I’m a grown-ass woman goddammit! Contract or not, gifts or not, I decide what I do with my time. Not to mention that he doesn’t even know that I signed the document.

"I couldn't give a rat's ass what you like," I snap at him, surprising even myself with my boldness. “Who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

"Oh?" Maron smirks, leaning in closer. "I like that. A woman who challenges me." He pauses and looks me up and down before asking, "So, tell me. Why don't you give a rat’s ass?"

I turn towards him, summoning every ounce of courage I possess. My eyes lock with his, and despite the shaking of my hands, my voice comes out strong and clear. "If you must know, Maron, I need the money. My mother is sick. She needs treatment for her cancer, and her hospital bills don't pay themselves."

As the words leave my lips, I watch a transformation occur in Maron's face. The hard, predatory look in his eyes softens, almost imperceptibly. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of something I've never seen in him before - a flicker of genuine sympathy, perhaps even understanding.

"I didn't know about your mother," he says, his voice losing some of its usual edge.

"Well, now you do," I reply, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. "In fact, I was on my way to visit her before you decided to have me kidnapped off the street."

Something shifts in his eyes - a flash of emotion I can't quite place. It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a depth I never knew existed beneath his typically impenetrable exterior. For a brief moment, I see not the ruthless businessman with questionable motives, but a man capable of empathy.

"Which hospital?" he asks, his voice softer than I've ever heard it.

"St. Mary's," I reply, watching him carefully.

Without breaking eye contact, Maron leans forward and taps on the partition in front of him. When he speaks, his voice is back to its usual crispness, but there's an undercurrent of urgency I've not heard before.

"Pavel," he commands, "take us to St. Mary's Hospital. Now."

Chapter Twenty

Mindy

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him.

I'm lounging on the plush leather seat with my eyes closed, my heart still racing from the adrenaline rush earlier. The scent of cedarwood from Maron fills my nostrils, creating a strange combination of sensations.

"Doing what?" he asks.

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