Page 5 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

Vadim leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that only she could hear. "That would be... unfortunate."

That evening, I waited for her in one of the private dining rooms at an exclusive restaurant downtown. I had the room cleared out—just the two of us. No interruptions, no distractions. I wanted her focused.

The restaurant itself was upscale, dimly lit with sleek, modern decor—everything designed to scream power andinfluence. The setting wasn't for her benefit. It was to remind her of what was at stake, what she was stepping into.

She was late. Not by much but enough that I knew it was deliberate. I didn't mind. She was trying to make a point.

The soft click of her heels on the marble floor announced her approach when she finally arrived. She took her time, each footstep seemingly mirroring a stubborn resignation, then eventually glided into the room. As I expected, she met my eyes with a hard annoyance, no doubt ruffled by the way I gave her no choice but to come.

She wasn't dressed to impress—not in the way most women would be in this setting. But there was something about the simplicity of her sapphire dress that was more striking. It ran down her lovely figure to whisper against the floor, yet covered any hint of cleavage. It gave me that feeling again, that uncovering her would be more than rewarding.

"You're late," I said, not bothering to hide my amusement.

"I didn't realize this was a job interview," she shot back, her voice cool.

I gestured to the chair across from me. "Have a seat."

She didn't move at first, but then, with a measured calm, she walked over to the table. Her posture was straight, her gaze steady as she slipped into the chair and settled with her chin raised. She wasn't here to cower, and that only intrigued me more.

I let the silence between us stretch. The air became thick with her irritation, and I watched as her posture grew rigid. Her hands rested on the table, fingers shifting every now and then, betraying the calm she worked so hard to project. I admired that about her. Most women would have already broken under the weight of being in my presence, but not her.

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze unwavering as I studied her. "You understand why you're here, don't you?" I asked, my voice steady, authoritative.

Lily didn't speak, but her eyes shut heavily, like she was biting back a reply. I could see her processing the situation, weighing her options, though she must have known there was only one outcome.

"Your thug, Vadim, explained enough," she said finally, her voice calm but edged with displeasure. She was trying to send me a message about the kind of woman she was. But that only amused me.

"Good," I replied, keeping my voice low, measured. "But let me make something clear."

I reached out, letting my fingers brush against the soft skin of her arm. It was a light touch, but I felt her body stiffen, saw her pulse quickening in her neck. She didn't pull away, but I could sense her inner struggle, the way her nerves betrayed her even as she tried to hold her composure.

"This marriage," I continued, leaning in slightly, my voice dropping to a near whisper, "it may seem like a business transaction. Cold. Calculated. And that's exactly what it is."

When her eyes locked onto mine, a delicious thrill rippled through me. For the first time, she looked wary, almost afraid of what I would say next.

"You will play the part of my wife," I instructed her firmly. "In public, you'll be perfect. You'll stand by my side, say the right things, and act the way I need you to. You'll be the image of stability that I need to project for business." I paused, watching her reaction closely, noting the way her lips tightened slightly. She was absorbing everything, and from how her eyes danced, I could tell her mind was racing.

"But at home," I continued, leaning even closer, "stay out of my way. Don't interfere in my life. I don't need you to play thedoting wife when we're alone. Follow my rules, do as I say, and in return, you'll get everything you want—money, protection, security."

I reached for her chin then, gripping it lightly but firmly, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes widened slightly at the contact, but she didn't pull away. I could feel the heat in her skin, see the conflict in her eyes. She wasn't weak, and that intrigued me. But I needed her to understand what she was agreeing to.

"You will do as I say," I repeated. "Play the part perfectly. But make no mistake. This isn't a real marriage. This is an arrangement. You follow my lead, and we won't have any problems."

Her lips parted slightly, and I could see the hesitation on the tip of her tongue. I leaned in closer, my grip on her chin tightening just enough to send a clear message. "Do you understand?"

For a long moment, Lily didn't respond. Her breath hitched slightly, her eyes flickering with something—fear, uncertainty, and perhaps something more. Something darker. I was offering her the world, not something anyone could easily turn down.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a small, hesitant nod.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice quiet but clear.

"Yes, what?" I prompted seriously, my eyes roaming her plump lips.

Lily clenched her jaw and shot me a hard look. But with just a raise of my eyebrows, she swallowed her pride and gave me the answer I wanted to hear.

"Yes, I understand," she spat out.

I released her chin, leaning back with a sense of satisfaction. She had agreed, as I knew she would. And now she would be mine.

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