Page 20 of Bound By Revenge

“Yes,” I reply with a grin.

“It can’t be.”

“And yet, here we are.” I gesture to the bed where she’s restrained.

She flops back onto the mattress with a groan, eyes squeezed shut. “This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, let me assure you, it is.”

After a moment, she opens her eyes, staring at the ceiling, still shaking her head. Then, as much as her restraints allow, she sits up and narrows her eyes at me. “Whoareyou, exactly?”

I smirk. “Come on, Kat. Drop the act. We both know you know exactly who I am. Why else would you have set out to con me?”

She gasps at my casual use of her name.

“That’s right, Ms. Devereaux. You no longer have me at a disadvantage. I’m now quite familiar with you—and your work. It was a little silly to deny me your name when you allowed me to get to know the rest of you so thoroughly, don’t you think?”

The maddening woman has the nerve to shoot me an aggravated look. “Look, Nikolai—if that’s even your real name—” She glares at me.

My amused grin grows wider. “That’s fucking precious, coming from you.” I step up to the bed, leaning in close as her eyes flash. “Ididn’t con you.Ididn’t crash a party to commit grand larceny.Ididn’t steal your priceless diamond. And, oh yeah— this is my favorite part—Ididn’t go out of my way to seduce unsuspecting men into helping me get away with the heist of the century and maybe even murder.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” she says, her tone bristling. “First of all, don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t set out to seduce you. You came ontome. Very strongly, too, if I recall. You approachedme. You wouldn’t let me leave, though God knows I tried.”

“I don’t remember you putting up much of a fight. Or any fight at all. Actually, I remember you begging me to kiss you—and then stripping and grinding on my lap before you?—”

She grabs a pillow and awkwardly hurls it at me, the leather cuffs limiting her movement. I sidestep it easily, catching the pillow and tossing it out of her reach.

“You,” she says, her face flushed with emotion. “I may not know all I should about who you are, but I do know you’re the most insufferable, overconfident asshole I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll admit to being an asshole, but overconfident? Really, Kat? You and I both know that, if anything, I’m being modest.” I wink at her. “But we’re getting off track. I brought you here today for a complete different reason, as you know very well.”

“Where ishere, anyway?”

“This is my place.”

“And that’s supposed to mean something to me?”

“I’d think that a world-class con woman like yourself would’ve done a better job researching her mark,” I say, letting my gaze drop to her neckline as she takes a deep breath. Against my better judgment, I get momentarily distracted by the rise and fall of her chest before tearing my eyes away.

“Again, I have no idea who you are. Besides a self-righteous, arrogant prick, of course.”

“Cute. But save your breath. I’m not buying it. You know all about me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. I gather you’re very impressed with your likely underserved sense of self-importance, but I promise you I’m not. I have no idea who you are. Besides an entitled prick, of course.”

It’s my turn to sigh, shaking my head. “Honestly, I’d be more impressed if you admitted to the truth. Knowing who I am and what I do, you still set out to steal from me. Sure, in the end, I did catch you red-handed. But still, that took some nerve.”

“All I know is your alleged first name and that you must be filthy rich to own something like the Flame of Mir. I was told was I needed to take the jewel from The Met during the opening gala for its newest exhibition. That’s it.”

“Right. And I’m supposed to believe you took on this high-profile heist with so little information?” I scoff.

She shrugs. “Believe what you want. It’s the truth.”

I study her, noting her calm, deadpan expression, with a hint of exhaustion. Despite everything, I feel a flicker of doubt, something dangerously close to guilt. I had her drugged, abducted, restrained. But I remind myself to stay vigilant—she’s proven to be untrustworthy, and I can’t trust my instincts when it comes to her.

“Besides,” she says, breaking the silence, “there were… extenuating circumstances.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

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