Page 11 of Beautiful Enemy

“I figured you wouldn’t want this. Nobody wants to get kidnapped.” He leans in closer to me; I can smell his cologne. Spicy. Masculine. Sort of intoxicating in a scary way.

“But I’m not letting you go,” he whispers. “You have a job to do, Nadia. You are going to drive Erik and your sister to madness. You are going to be punished for their actions. Is it fair? No. But I’m not a fair man. I have a job to do myself. It’s my job to make Erik suffer. So I am not going to let you go, Nadia. There’s no need to beg me. Nothing you say will make me change my mind.”

I inhale sharply once he leans away from me.

Looking out the window, I don’t recognize where we are. Dante is going to make sure I’m well and truly hidden away.

If I had any chance of escape, it was back at the chapel. Now, I’m stuck.

Dante has all the power and I have none.

Chapter Three

Dante

The girl is scared. That much is obvious.

She should be scared – she’s my enemy, my prisoner, my hostage. I have no care for her. Yes, she’s stunningly beautiful in her wedding gown but she’s a Bratva woman. I’m Italian. We’re raised to think of the Russians as scum and they’re raised the same way. I know she must think low of me, not just because I kidnaped her but because I’m anItalianman who kidnaped her.

Nadia is scared silent. She almost looks dead for how frozen she is.

Good. I want her to suffer for the crimes of her sister and brother-in-law and father. I want all of them to suffer for trying to kill me. I want them to suffer for thinking they succeeded and that I wouldn’t be a problem any longer.

Matteo arrives at the house I bought to keep Nadia in. It’s a simple ranch house far from the city. Nondescript. Blends in with every other house on the street. Nothing special about it. Fitting for a Bratva princess in my eyes.

“Do you like the place?” I ask Nadia as we get out of the car. I have a strong grip on her arm so she doesn’t run. But she hasn’t run yet. I’m not sure if it’s fear, bravery, or plain stupidity.

“No,” she whispers.

“Not fine enough for your standards?”

“No.” She ducks her head, staring at her feet. Already, I’ve noticed she does that a lot. I wanted Nadia to be proud. I wanted Nadia to fight back and tell me I’m Italian trash and that I deserve to be killed by her brother-in-law.

But instead, she’s been nothing but a ragdoll. Silent and easy to maneuver.

“Come on,” I growl, nudging her forward. Matteo scans the area just to be safe but we know it’s secure. I wouldn’t have chosen this place if it weren’t. No one followed us from the chapel. I’m sure they tried but they failed. That makes me gleeful.

The inside of the house, just like the outside, is simple. Simple furnishings. Little decoration. Updated so it’s a not a total pigsty. It would be a nice place to live if you didn’t have much money. I’m used to mansions. I’m used to housekeepers and maids and chefs. I was raised in it.

Until I was torn from it when I was forced into the shadows.

Nadia looks around curiously and still doesn’t say a word. I want to know what’s on her mind. Icraveit.

But I can’t ask her. It would seem too desperate. Nadia is my prisoner. I am not hers.

“This way,” I grunt, leading her towards the basement door off the front entrance. Unlike the rest of the house, the basement has not been updated. In fact, it’s a fucking filth pile. It’s just cement on the floor and plywood on the walls. Unfinished. In the middle of the room lays a mattress and a bucket.

“This is where you’ll be staying.” I let her arm go. Her only response is to rub the spot I was just holding. She doesn’t snap at me. She doesn’t slap me. She doesn’t try to run.

She just stands there looking sad and dejected. This is not what I wanted. If Nadia were trying to fight me, it would be fun. I’d laugh in her face and tell her she deserves this.

But Nadia only looks more sad as she stares around the room in silence. It’s not as much fun to mock her when she’s not giving me anything to mock.

I stand right behind her and speak in her ear. “How does it feel to know that you’re nothing but trash? That you belong in a room like this?”

She whimpers.

“Nothing to say back to me? You don’t want to tell me off? You don’t want to say that I’m trash? That I’m vile and disgusting and not worthy of your time?”

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