Page 19 of Wicked Embers

Dolph chuckles, shaking his head. “We’ll need to replace this one.” He shakes it, and I know it must be the one that I shot my father with. “I think you nearly emptied the entire can.”

“I have no regrets!” I hold my chin high and see that flash of admiration in the big guy’s eyes again.

He shoves the cans back into my purse and scratches in it once more before looking at me with narrow eyes. “Please give me your phone as well.” Dolph zips up my purse but doesn’t hand it back, I note.

My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to remain calm. I hope I don’t get a message, as it’s on vibrate, and I’m sure my jeans will shake. “I don’t have it with me,” I lie.

Dolph’s eyes narrow, his gaze boring into mine as he tries to figure out whether I’m lying.

I sigh. Unzipping my sweater, I pull it off and lift my arms, trying to ignore the throbbing in my hand. My pink T-shirt hugs my figure, leaving no space to hide a phone. I pat down my jeans, showing him there is no rectangular bump, then spin around, patting the pockets on my ass as if searching for the device.

“See, no phone! And I promise I don’t keep it between my butt crack,” I say, giving my tight, jean-clad butt a cheeky wiggle.

“I’ll be sure to check a little later!” The deep voice makes me whirl around, my heart leaping into my throat as my eyes lock with Radomir Molchanov.

Chapter 8

LEIGH

Radomir shrugs off his suit jacket, and Dolph immediately takes it. I zip up my cozy sweater, the hobo-chic thrift shop look making me acutely aware that it probably costs less than a single button on Radomir’s jacket.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Dolph holds up my purse.

“Lock it in my office,” Radomir tells him, and they have an exchange in Russian. Dolph nods and wanders off down the hallway, and Radomir turns to me.

“I need to use the restroom,” I say abruptly, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.

Radomir raises an eyebrow, his gaze assessing. For a moment, I think he might refuse to let me use it. But he nods toward the passage.

“It’s down the hall. First door on the right,” Radomir tells me. “Oh, and Leigh, don’t waste your time or energy looking for an escape hatch in there.”

We stare at each other for a few more heart-pounding seconds before I glance away and bolt toward the bathroom, doing a great impression of a terrified rabbit.

In a few quick strides, I reach the bathroom, slip inside, and lock the door. The moment it’s secure, I sag against it, feeling breathless from how my pulse and heart are racing.

I reach down, my fingers fumbling with the strap of my ankle holster. I have picked many a person’s wallets or skillfully liberated their phones. I know where to hide my things so I don’t become a victim of it myself.

With shaking hands, I pull out my phone, my fingers flying over the screen as I type out a frantic message to Sabrina.

Rina, I’m in a tight spot. My father fucking bet me on a poker game to none other than Radomir Molchanov. I’m trapped in his penthouse. Need help.

I hit send, watching the message delivery confirmation pop-up on the screen. I look at my aching hand—it’s swollen and a bit blue.Note to self: never punch someone in the jaw again.I flex my fingers, wincing at the stiffness.Stupid blind rage!

Taking a deep breath and steadying myself before tucking the phone back into my ankle holster that I rip off my leg, I quickly find a spot to hide it. No way am I giving up my only means of contacting the outside world.

Glancing at the door, I know I can’t stay hidden in here forever, but I also want to pee. Once I’m done washing myhands, I nearly jump out of my skin when someone bangs on the door.

“Leigh?” Radomir’s voice booms through thick wood. “What’s going on? You’re not trying to escape, are you?”

Was he making a joke?No, he probably means it. I can’t imagine the man has a sense of humor. If he does, it’s probably dark. Like laughing at baby seals being clubbed to death.

After a final glance in the mirror, I smooth my hair, square my shoulders, and brace myself. Taking a steadying breath, I unlock the door and yank it open—only to come face-to-face with the Dark Lord himself.

He’s so close to me that I can feel the heat from his body, and the scent of his expensive cologne teases my senses, doing that strange thing to my stomach and nether region again.

I should step back as emotions churn inside me, but showing weakness isn’t an option. As long as my shaky legs hold, I’ll stand my ground.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, and I’m even more aware of how this man towers over me. My father stands at six feet one inch, so at a guess, I’d say Radomir was close to six-three and not short on muscle either.

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