Page 13 of Hostage of the Russian
“That much is becoming clear.” He gestured around the room. “This will be your space. My bedroom is across the hall. We’ll maintain separate sleeping arrangements for now.”
Relief flooded through her, though she tried not to let it show. “For now?”
“This is still a marriage, Azriel. Even if unconventionally arranged.” His dark eyes held hers. “I won’t force you. But don’t mistake that for permanent disinterest.”
Heat rushed to her face. “You can’t seriously expect—”
“I expect nothing immediate,” he interrupted smoothly. “Despite what you might think, I’m not a monster in all respects.”
“Just the ones that matter,” she retorted.
That almost-smile appeared again. “We’ll see.”
He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “Dinner in forty-five minutes. Don’t be late.”
“Or what?”
Kostya looked back, his expression unreadable. “Let’s not find out.”
The implied threat hung in the air between them.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, the words coming out before she could stop them.
“No,” he agreed, studying her with those penetrating eyes. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”
Before she could respond, he closed the door behind him. Azriel immediately crossed the room and turned the lock, needing the symbolic barrier between them.
She leaned against the door, heart pounding, thoughts swirling in chaotic patterns. This man, this criminal who’d forced her into marriage, wasn’t what she’d expected either. The cold cruelty was there, certainly, but so was something else; a complexity she hadn’t anticipated.
The locked door wouldn’t keep him out if he truly wanted to enter; they both knew that. But the small act of defiance helped ground her.
Azriel pushed away from the door and began pacing the room, cataloging her options. Escape seemed impossible for now. The mansion was likely heavily guarded, and she had no idea where she was or how to get back to the city.
That left two choices: surrender to her fate or make Kostya Nikolai regret ever bringing her into his home.
The decision was easy. If he thought she would be a docile, obedient wife, he was sorely mistaken. She’d survived herfather’s abuse for years, learned to fight back in her own ways. This was just another battle in a lifetime of warfare.
She walked to the window, gazing out at the manicured grounds stretching into the distance. Somewhere beyond those trees was her former life, the freedom she’d barely begun to taste.
“I’ll get back there,” she whispered to herself. “One way or another.”
But first, she had a dinner to attend. And a husband to confront.
Azriel turned from the window, a new determination hardening inside her. If Kostya Nikolai wanted a wife, she would give him one he’d never forget, and possibly come to regret.
The game had just begun.
Chapter 5 - Kostya
Kostya glanced at his watch, satisfied. Three days had passed since he’d brought Azriel to the mansion, and the past forty-eight hours had been surprisingly peaceful. After their initial confrontations, her fierce defiance when he’d first explained the terms of their arrangement, the way she’d thrown the signed marriage certificate back in his face, she’d settled into a quiet routine, remaining in her room except for meals, which she took alone in the smaller dining room adjacent to the kitchen.
The staff reported that she ate everything sent to her without complaint, although Elena mentioned that she often stared out the window during meals, her expression distant and unreadable. Mrs. Chen, the housekeeper, had noted that Azriel kept her room meticulously clean, making her own bed each morning despite being told it wasn’t necessary. She’d also requested books from the mansion’s extensive library, specifically volumes on literature and psychology.
Perhaps she’d finally accepted her situation. Smart girl. He’d chosen well, despite the circumstances that had brought her here.
The morning had started typically; reports from Viktor about their various operations, a conference call with associates in New York, reviewing financial statements that showed their legitimate businesses were thriving alongside their less legitimate ones. Kostya had built an empire that operated on multiple levels, each one carefully insulated from the others. It was a delicate balance, one that required constant attention and absolute control.
Control he thought he’d established over his newest acquisition.
