Page 10 of Hostage of the Russian
Azriel tensed. “I wasn’t aware you could read minds.”
“I don’t need to.” Now he turned, those dark brown eyes unsettlingly perceptive. “Your fingers have been tappingthe same pattern for five minutes, and you’ve barely blinked. Internal conflict is written all over you.”
She immediately stilled her fingers, hating that he’d noticed. “Forgive me if being kidnapped and forced into marriage has me a bit distracted.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Not forgiven. But understood.”
The casual dismissal ignited her anger anew. “What exactly do you expect from me? Should I be grateful you’re not keeping me bound and gagged?”
“Gratitude would be excessive,” he replied coolly. “Basic cooperation will suffice.”
“And if I refuse to cooperate?”
His gaze hardened, all traces of amusement vanishing. “Then you’ll find my patience has very strict limitations.”
The threat hung between them as the vehicle turned, passing through ornate iron gates that swung open automatically. Azriel’s attention snapped to the window as the SUV traveled up a winding driveway flanked by meticulously landscaped grounds.
The mansion that came into view stole her breath. Three stories of imposing architecture, all gleaming windows and elegant stonework, sprawled before them. It wasn’t just a house; it was a statement of power, of wealth beyond anything she’d ever experienced.
“Welcome home,” Kostya said, watching her reaction carefully.
Home. The word felt hollow, mockingly false. “This is a prison with better decor.”
“A gilded cage is still a cage?” he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his tone.
“Something like that.”
The SUV stopped at the front entrance, where two men in dark suits waited. Kostya exited first, then extended his hand to help her out. Azriel ignored it, climbing out unassisted despite the awkwardness of her restraints.
He didn’t comment on her refusal, simply nodding to one of the waiting men. “Viktor, inform the staff that Mrs. Nikolai has arrived.”
Mrs. Nikolai. The name scraped against her consciousness, a reminder of everything that had happened.
The interior of the mansion was even more impressive than its exterior. Soaring ceilings, marble floors, and artwork that belonged in museums rather than private homes. Wealth dripped from every surface, casual and overwhelming in its abundance.
Azriel felt suddenly small, out of place in her simple jeans and sweater. Her student apartment could fit in this entrance hall alone.
“What exactly do you do?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity despite herself.
Kostya glanced at her, amusement flickering across his features. “I have various business interests.”
“Business interests that involve kidnapping women?”
“Only exceptionally annoying ones,” he replied without missing a beat.
Azriel narrowed her eyes. “I meant, what kind of criminal are you?”
He studied her for a long moment, as if deciding how much to reveal. “The successful kind.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting for now.” He gestured toward a sweeping staircase. “Your room is upstairs. I assume you’d like to rest before dinner.”
Azriel didn’t move. “I want answers. You’ve trapped me in this marriage. You owe me that much.”
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. “I owe you nothing.”
The cold certainty in his voice sent a chill down her spine, but Azriel refused to cower. She’d spent years learning to hide her fear from her father. This man, intimidating as he was, wouldn’t see her weakness either.
