Page 12 of Hostage of the Russian
“I’ll leave you to settle in,” Elena continued. “Someone will come to escort you to dinner in fifty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Azriel managed, suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of her situation.
As soon as the door closed behind Elena, Azriel sank onto the edge of the bed, her composure crumbling. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Crying wouldn’t help anything. She needed to think, to plan.
The bedroom door opened again without warning. Azriel scrambled to her feet, hastily wiping away any trace of tears.
Kostya stood in the doorway, watching her with an expression that was unreadable.
“What do you want now?” she demanded, hating the slight tremor in her voice.
He entered the room, his presence immediately making the spacious area feel smaller. “I forgot to mention something important.”
“Another threat?”
“A clarification,” he corrected, stopping a few feet away. “Your father will never set foot in this house. You have my word on that.”
The statement caught her completely off guard. “Why would you promise that?”
Kostya’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Because it seems important to you.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she insisted.
“I know enough,” he replied. “I know you tensed every time I mentioned him. I know you weren’t surprised when I said he’d sold you. And I know relief was your first reaction when you realized he couldn’t reach you here.”
His accuracy was unsettling. Azriel crossed her arms, creating a barrier between them. “Playing psychologist now?”
“Merely observant.” He took another step forward. “I may have forced you into this marriage, but I’m not completely without principles. You won’t be harmed while under my roof.”
“Unless I disobey,” she pointed out. “Right?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you always this argumentative?”
“Are you always this controlling?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “It’s a personality trait that’s served me well.”
“It must be exhausting,” she shot back, “needing to dictate everything around you.”
Something like genuine amusement flickered in his eyes. “It becomes second nature after a while.”
“Like being a criminal?”
“Precisely.” He studied her for a moment. “You’re not what I expected, Azriel Hartford.”
“Nikolai,” she corrected bitterly. “Isn’t that what you want me to call myself now?”
“Want and expectation are different things.” He tilted his head slightly. “I expected fear. Tears. Begging. Instead, I get defiance and sharp remarks.”
Azriel lifted her chin. “Disappointed?”
“Intrigued,” he countered, the word sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.
They stood in silence for a moment, tension crackling between them like static electricity. It wasn’t just anger or fear anymore, but something more complex that Azriel didn’t want to examine too closely.
“Your father said you were intelligent,” Kostya continued, his voice dropping lower. “He failed to mention your spirit.”
“My father knows nothing about me,” she replied coldly.
