Page 5 of Forbidden Vows

He shuts the door, then locks it, slipping the key back into his jacket pocket. “There you go with the questions, little bird.”

“I have the right to know my abductor’s identity.”

“The kitchen is stocked. You can have the bedroom at the end of the hallway. I’m going to pour myself a scotch. Would you like one?”

“Are you deliberately trying to get me wasted?”

“No, I’m just trying to see how much is too much for you. I hear Irish girls can drink most men under the table,” he shoots back with a cool grin.

Why are my legs quivering? This is not the kind of reaction my body should be having in this man’s presence.

Get a grip, Eileen.

My phone buzzes in my clutch.

I hold my breath praying he doesn’t notice.

His hand flashes out, confiscating it with terrifying speed.

"Give it back!" I lunge, but he's quicker, those massive arms trapping me against his chest. Every inch of him is hard muscle and barely leashed violence.

"Sit. Down." Each word is a bullet. "Unless you want Andrei's men to finish what they started."

The mention of those Bratva enforcers stills me. Against every screaming instinct, I sink onto the sofa.

I take a seat on the edge of a plush, creamy-beige sofa, my reflection staring back at me from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He dials a number on his phone. I watch his gaze darken as it travels across the room, his mind carefully processing everything.

“Andrei, you need to call me back ASAP. Whatever that thing with Benedetto was, you need to stop it. Put it on the back burner and tell your goons to back off,” he says.

Andrei. That name again.

Tommy was terrified at the mere mention of the guy back in the alley. Definitely a high-ranking member of the Russian mob. But there are so many of them waltzing around like they own Chicago these days, it’s hard to keep up. Not that I truly ever cared. I should’ve cared. I should’ve paid more attention.

Within a few minutes, he calls this Andrei guy again. “For fuck’s sake, you’d better call off the hit on Benedetto and the witness back at the club. Your boys will know who I’m talking about. You’ve really stepped into it this time. Call it off, or there will be consequences. And call me back, you idiot.”

“Let’s hope he gets the message sooner rather than later. For your sake.”

The underlying threat does not elude me. I feel it coursing through my veins and making my blood freeze. There’s a hint of danger to every word the man says, yet here I sit with my chin up and a defiant glare in my eyes.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I should warn you—I’m not the kind of woman you can kidnap and get away with it.”

“Is that so? Scotch?”

The audacity of this man.

He strides toward me with a tumbler, the honey-colored scotch swirling seductively with each determined step. He offers it to me, his gaze dark and penetrating. For a fleeting moment, I consider accepting it.

Instead, I slap his hand away.

The glass flies, shattering against the parquet with a shrill crash, scotch splashing like golden rain across the floor.

A sudden chill in the air wraps around me, making me instantly regret the impulse. His calm, however, remains unbroken.

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” he states calmly, his voice a low rumble of controlled power. “But I have been nothing but courteous up to this point.”

"You call dragging me here against my will courteous?"

---