Page 6 of Hostage of the Russian
“What I feel for my father is none of your business,” Azriel replied coldly. “Whatever he’s done, whatever he owes you, I’m not part of it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Kostya leaned back, watching her with unsettling intensity. “Your father offered you as payment for his debts.”
The words hung in the air between them, monstrous in their implication. Azriel felt the blood drain from her face, replaced by a wave of nausea. She shouldn’t have been surprised; it wasn’t the first time Danny Hartford had used her as a bargaining chip, but the reality of it still cut deep.
“How much?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Excuse me?”
“How much did he owe you? How much am I worth?”
Kostya’s expression shifted, something unreadable passing through his dark eyes. “Two million dollars.”
Azriel gave a bitter laugh. “Inflation. Last time it was only fifty thousand.”
The statement clearly wasn’t what Kostya had expected. He studied her with renewed interest, as if reassessing a puzzle whose pieces didn’t quite fit.
The car turned onto a main thoroughfare, Chicago’s lights blurring outside the tinted windows. Azriel recognized Michigan Avenue before they turned again, heading north toward the Gold Coast. Money, then. Serious money, judging by their direction.
“What exactly do you want from me?” she asked after several minutes of silence.
Instead of answering immediately, Kostya reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. He placed it on the seat between them.
“Your father suggested marriage,” he said, his tone so matter-of-fact he might have been discussing the weather. “A way to square his debt. I found the idea ridiculous at first, but then...” He shrugged, a fluid movement that spoke of controlled power. “I became curious about the daughter he was so willing to trade away.”
Azriel stared at the envelope, understanding dawning with horrifying clarity. “Marriage papers,” she stated flatly.
“The arrangement is quite favorable, all things considered,” Kostya continued, watching her reaction closely. “You’ll want for nothing materially. Your education can continue; I’m not a man who needs a housewife. But you will be mine, Azriel Hartford. Payment for your father’s mistakes.”
The car slowed, turning into a gated driveway that led to an elegant townhouse overlooking Lake Michigan. Even through her shock, Azriel recognized the address, one of the most expensive residential areas in Chicago.
“I won’t sign anything,” she stated, wrists straining against the zip ties. “You can’t force me.”
Kostya smiled then, the expression transforming his face from merely handsome to devastating. It was the smile of a predator, beautiful and deadly.
“I think you’ll find, Miss Hartford, that there are very few things I cannot do.” He nodded to the driver, who had come around to open their door. “Welcome to your new home.”
As they led her from the car toward the imposing residence, Azriel fought against encroaching despair. Everything she’d built, every step away from her father’s shadow, had been erased in minutes. She was once again a pawn in someone else’s game, property to be traded for a debt.
But she wasn’t sixteen anymore, desperate and afraid, with nowhere to turn. She was stronger now, smarter. And if Kostya Nikolai thought she would surrender without a fight, he was about to learn otherwise.
They escorted her through towering doors into a foyer that spoke of old wealth and refined taste; marble floors, crystal chandelier, artwork that even her untrained eye recognized as valuable. A prison, no matter how gilded, was still a prison.
“Show Miss Hartford to her room,” Kostya instructed someone Azriel couldn’t see. “We’ll discuss the details of our arrangement in the morning. After she’s had time to... adjust to her new circumstances.”
As a stern-looking woman appeared to lead her away, Azriel met Kostya’s dark gaze with defiance burning in her gray eyes. “I escaped my father,” she said quietly. “What makes you think I won’t escape you, too?”
Something like respect flickered across Kostya’s features before his expression smoothed into practiced neutrality. “Because, Azriel, unlike your father, I never let go of what’s mine.”
The statement lingered in the air between them, both a threat and a promise, as Azriel was led up a sweeping staircase toward whatever cage this man had prepared for her. Her mind was already calculating, assessing, and planning. The same skills that had kept her alive under her father’s roof, which hadallowed her to build a new life, would now be used to secure her freedom once more.
One thought echoed above the others as she crossed the threshold of her luxurious prison: She had not come this far, survived this much, only to become another man’s possession.
Chapter 3 - Kostya
Kostya leaned back in his leather chair, watching the woman across from him. Azriel Hartford. Even bound to the chair, she maintained a quiet dignity that surprised him. Most people would be sobbing, begging for mercy by now. But not Danny Hartford’s daughter.
Her smoky gray eyes remained defiant, scanning the room for possible escape routes. Kostya almost admired her composure, despite the circumstances. The fear was certainly there, but it was controlled and masked behind a wall of determination.
