Page 64 of Inked Adonis

NOVA

“Do you want to tell me why you’re pouting or am I supposed to guess?”

“I’m not.” I jerk my chin up, defiant. The leather of Samuil’s Aston Martin creaks as I shift, refusing to make eye contact.

“‘She says, pouting.’” His deep voice rumbles with amusement, the bastard. “I like Hope.”

“Mhmm.” The word comes out bitter and sharp. “And she definitely liked you.”

Understatement of the fucking century. My traitorous best friend—the one who’s supposed to be immune to male bullshit—practically tripped over herself fawning over Chicago’s most dangerous bachelor. The same woman who once made a guy write a formal apology to his mother for sending unsolicited dick pics just handed Samuil Litvinov her heart on a silver platter.

All because he cracked one joke about her accounting software and offered to get her a discount on a new program.

“Your best friend liked me.” He twists the knife, because of course he does. “That’s what has you all worked up?”

Rufus whines, nudging my shoulder with his wet nose. I scratch behind his ears, grateful for at least one loyal soul in this car.

“It doesn’t bother me that Hope likes you.”

“Right.” He snorts. “It doesn’t just bother you—it’s killing you. You’ve never hated anything more.”

My teeth grind together. “I want to talk about something else.”

“Okay, let’s talk about your grandma. She liked me, too. She whispered it to me as we left.” His voice drops an octave, dripping with satisfaction. “She also said something about a family ring. She told me to let her know if I wanted it to?—”

“She offered you her wedding ring?” The words explode out of me, making Rufus flinch. “We were there for two hours! She doesn’t even know you! I barely know you. What was that senile old woman thinking? What did you tell her?”

His lips curve into a wicked grin as he leans over the console. “I told you so.”

Oh.I’m an idiot.

There was no ring offer. Just Samuil, proving his point about how much it bothers me that he charmed my entire world in the span of a morning.

“I never would’ve let you tag along if I thought you’d win them all over.”

“Jealous?”

Yes. God, yes.The admission sits heavy in my chest, refusing to budge.

I roll my eyes instead. “Confused, actually. Hope has hated most—no, all of my boyfriends. I don’t see why you should be so different.”

“For starters, I’m not your boyfriend.”

The words slice deeper than they should, considering he’s right. We’re nothing to each other. Nothing except captor and captive, playing at normalcy while his men trail us with loaded guns.

“Correct. You’re my captor,” I say, to remind myself as much as him. “But I can’t exactly advertise that without getting my grandmother and best friend locked up with me, can I?”

Samuil stares ahead, radiating the casual arrogance of a man who’s never met an obstacle he couldn’t demolish or buy off.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” I accuse.

“Probably.” His jaw ticks. “But you’ll need to be more specific.”

“Charming people.”

He shrugs, the movement liquid and graceful. “Things move along more smoothly when people like you.”

“Or when they think they like you, but they don’t actually know you. And secretly, you’re just waiting to kidnap them from a park and make them your captive.”

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