Page 7 of Hostage of the Russian
“Do you know why you’re here, Miss Hartford?” Kostya kept his voice deliberately calm, almost conversational.
She lifted her chin. “Because you’re a criminal who kidnaps innocent women?”
A smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t help it. Her spirit was refreshing, if misplaced. “Not quite.”
“Then enlighten me.” Her voice was steady, but he caught the subtle tremble in her fingers.
“Danny Hartford,” Kostya said, watching her face carefully.
The recognition flashed immediately in her eyes, just as he’d expected. He’d done his research on her: the daughter of Danny Hartford, a twenty-one-year-old brilliant student at the University of Chicago. What he hadn’t expected was her reaction.
Instead of panic, her brow furrowed. “What did my father do?”
Kostya paused, momentarily thrown by the question. He’d anticipated fear, perhaps denial, but not this calm inquiry. It was almost as if...
“You don’t seem surprised to hear your father might be in trouble,” he observed.
“My father’s always in trouble,” she replied flatly. “What did he do to you?”
Kostya stood, slowly circling the chair. “Where should I begin? Your father has been working for my organization for years. Everything was running smoothly until recently. He started skimming money off the top of our operations. Significant amounts. When confronted, he diverted shipments, compromised security protocols, and revealed information to rivals.”
He stopped behind her, leaning down so his lips were inches from her ear. “Every time we gave him a chance to make things right, he found new ways to test my patience.”
She remained rigid, but didn’t flinch away from his proximity.
“Three of my men are dead because of information he leaked,” Kostya continued, moving back into her line of sight. “He cost us millions in a botched operation last month. When my enforcers went to collect what he owed, your father claimed he was broke.”
Azriel’s expression hardened. “And what does any of this have to do with me?”
Kostya smiled coldly. “Your father offered you as payment.”
Her face went completely blank, and for a moment, Kostya thought she might actually break. But then she laughed, a short, bitter sound.
“Of course he did,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“He spoke highly of your intelligence,” Kostya continued, watching her carefully. “Said you’d make a valuable wife for someone like me. Someone who could generate income for the family.”
Something shifted in her eyes, not fear, but disgust. “And you believed him?”
“I didn’t, actually. Not at first.” Kostya sat on the edge of his desk. “But when it became clear he had nothing else of value to offer, I decided to take him up on his suggestion.”
“To punish him,” she stated, not a question.
“Smart girl.” Kostya nodded. “Though I must admit, I’m curious about your relationship with your father. Most daughters would be devastated to learn their father had sold them to the Russian mafia.”
“We’re not close,” she said flatly.
Kostya laughed. “Clearly.”
While he’d been talking, he noticed her fingers working methodically at the restraints. Most wouldn’t have caught the subtle movements, but he hadn’t risen to his position by missing details. Instead of stopping her immediately, he continued, interested to see how far she would get.
“Your father also failed to mention how beautiful you are,” he said casually. “Perhaps he thought that might increase your value too much.”
She ignored the comment, maintaining her focus. “How exactly do you expect this arrangement to work? You kidnap me, force me to marry you, and then what? I become your obedient little wife?”
Kostya smiled. “I don’t expect obedience from anyone, Miss Hartford. Life has taught me that’s an unrealistic expectation.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
