Page 11 of Hostage of the Russian
“Then I suppose I’ll have to figure it out for myself,” she challenged, lifting her chin. “How hard can it be to determine what kind of criminal operation allows a man to live like this? Drugs? Weapons? Human trafficking?”
His expression hardened with each suggestion, the temperature between them dropping several degrees. “Careful, Azriel. Curiosity has dangerous consequences in this house.”
“Threatening me already? That didn’t take long.” She stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated despite the alarm bells ringing in her mind. “What are you going to do? Kill me? Then you’d have nothing to hold over my father.”
A slow, cold smile spread across Kostya’s face. It transformed him, revealing something predatory beneath the handsome exterior. “Death isn’t the worst thing I could do to you.”
“I’ve lived with threats my entire life,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “You’ll have to be more creative than my father if you want to frighten me.”
Something shifted in his gaze, a flicker of genuine surprise. Before he could respond, a woman in a crisp uniform appeared at the edge of the hall.
“Mr. Nikolai,” she said with practiced deference. “Dinner will be served in one hour.”
Kostya nodded, his expression returning to neutral so quickly that Azriel almost doubted what she’d seen. “Thank you, Elena. Please show Mrs. Nikolai to her room.”
Azriel bristled at being dismissed. “We’re not finished here.”
“For now, we are.” His tone left no room for argument. “I have business to attend to before dinner. Elena will help you settle in.”
“Business,” Azriel repeated mockingly. “How very legitimate-sounding.”
A spark of something like amusement flashed in his eyes. “Would you prefer I call it nefarious plotting?”
“I’d prefer honesty.”
“No,” he said simply. “You wouldn’t. Trust me on that.”
There was such certainty in his voice that Azriel faltered, momentarily unsure. Before she could formulate a response, Kostya turned to the waiting housekeeper.
“Mrs. Nikolai’s clothes and personal items will arrive tomorrow. Find her something suitable for dinner in the meantime.”
“Yes, Sir,” Elena responded with a small nod.
Kostya turned back to Azriel, studying her with those penetrating eyes. “One hour. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
“Is that another threat?”
“A fact,” he replied smoothly. “And a piece of advice you’d be wise to heed.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Azriel seething in the massive foyer.
Elena waited patiently, her expression carefully neutral. “This way, Mrs. Nikolai.”
“Don’t call me that,” Azriel snapped, then immediately regretted her harshness. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. But please, just Azriel is fine.”
The woman’s expression softened slightly. “As you wish, Miss Azriel. Please, follow me.”
They ascended the grand staircase in silence, Azriel’s mind racing with each step. The magnitude of her situation was only now fully dawning on her. Married to a dangerous criminal. Living in a mansion that screamed wealth and power. Cut off from everything and everyone she knew.
Panic threatened to overtake her, but she forced it down. Panicking wouldn’t help. She needed to stay calm, to think clearly.
“Here we are,” Elena said, opening a door at the end of a long hallway.
The bedroom was larger than Azriel’s entire apartment, with a massive four-poster bed, sitting area, and doors leading to what appeared to be a private bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it spoke of wealth without restraint.
“Your bathroom is through there,” Elena confirmed, gesturing to the door. “The closet is fully stocked with clothing that should fit you temporarily. Mr. Nikolai was quite specific about the sizes.”
A chill ran through Azriel at the reminder of how much research Kostya had done on her before the kidnapping.
