Page 23 of Hostage of the Russian
“You don’t understand,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. “I’m graduating in two weeks. Two weeks, and then I’ll have my degree. I’ll be able to get a real job, build a life.“
“You already have a life.” His eyes never wavered from hers. “Here. With me.”
The casual possessiveness sent ice through her veins. “This isn’t a life. This is a prison with better furniture.”
Something flickered across his features before his expression hardened again. “Yesterday proved that it’s not safe for you out there. Until I handle the situation, you stay put.”
Azriel’s nails dug into her palms as she remembered the terror of being chased, the weight of Kostya’s body pressing her against the alley wall, the way her heart had hammered for reasons that had nothing to do with fear in those final moments before he’d pulled away.
“I don’t care about safe,” she lied, lifting her chin. “I care about my future.”
“Your future is with me now.” He set down his coffee cup with deliberate precision. “End of discussion.”
The dismissal hit her like a physical blow. Azriel stood frozen, watching him scroll through his phone as if her entire world hadn’t just crumbled. The casual indifference was somehow worse than his anger, worse than his threats.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, refusing to let him see the tears burning behind her eyes.
Her bedroom felt smaller than usual as she closed the door behind her. The king-sized bed with its silk sheets mocked her with its opulence. What good were expensive things when they came with invisible chains?
Azriel pressed her back against the door and slid down until she was sitting on the carpet, knees drawn to her chest. This was how it had always been with her father, her dreams crushed under the weight of someone else’s will.
But she wasn’t that same scared girl anymore. She’d escaped once. She’d been so close to the finish line, so close to proving that she was more than the worthless burden her father had always claimed her to be.
Two weeks.That’s all she needed. Something, anything, that was truly hers. Something no one could take away.
The seed of an idea began to form in her mind.
Three hours later, Azriel knocked on Kostya’s office door with appropriate meekness.
“Come in.”
She found him behind an imposing mahogany desk, attention focused on a laptop screen. “I need to go shopping,” she said without preamble.
Kostya’s fingers paused over the keyboard, but he didn’t look up. “For what?”
“Clothes. Personal items.” She’d rehearsed this part. “Everything I own is back at my apartment, and I’m down to my last clean... everything.”
His dark gaze swept over her wrinkled jeans and oversized sweater she’d been wearing for three days straight. Something shifted in his expression, recognition of basic human needs.
“Make a list,” he said finally. “I’ll have someone pick things up for you.”
“I have very specific requirements.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily. “Sizes, brands, and colors that work with my skin tone. I’m not going to let some random person shop for my underwear.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Then we’ll go together.”
No.That wouldn’t work. “I don’t think your presence in the lingerie section of Nordstrom would be particularly... discrete.”
She thought she saw his lips twitch before his expression shuttered again. “Fine. I’ll have someone escort you.”
“Thank you.” The words tasted like ash, but she forced them out.
The next morning, Azriel found herself at Michigan Avenue’s shopping district with a mountain of a man named Boris trailing behind her. He looked like he could bench press a car, but seemed content to let her browse as long as she stayed within sight.
She played the part perfectly, the reluctant mob wife making the best of her situation. She took her time in Nordstrom, trying on clothes and asking endless questions. Boris looked increasingly bored, eventually finding a chair near the fitting rooms where he could watch the entrance while scrolling through his phone.
That’s when Azriel made her move.
She slipped into a fitting room with an armful of clothes, then immediately exited through the employee entrance she’d noticed during reconnaissance. The hallway led to a service elevator that deposited her in the parking garage. From there, it was a quick cab ride to campus.
