Page 61 of Hostage of the Russian
Azriel’s laughter rang out, bright and genuine, and Kostya felt that now-familiar warmth spread through his chest. She fit here, belonged here in a way that had nothing to do with their forced marriage and everything to do with who she was.
“Please tell me you have pictures,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Better,” Irina chimed in, pulling out her phone. “I have video. Watch his face when he finds out what he actually ate.”
As his sister cued up the footage, Kostya watched Azriel lean forward eagerly, her whole face lit up with amusement. When had she become so integral to these moments? When did his family gatherings start feeling incomplete without her presence? He remembered the first time he’d brought her here, how she’d sat rigid and watchful, speaking only when directly addressed. The transformation was remarkable.
The video played, showing their cousin Lev’s mortified expression when he learned the truth about his meal. Azrieldissolved into giggles again, and even Fedya cracked a smile at her reaction.
“You’re terrible people,” she gasped, but her tone was fond. “All of you.”
“Terrible but entertaining,” Viktor corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Barely,” she shot back, earning appreciative chuckles from around the table.
“Says the woman who convinced our housekeeper that Kostya was afraid of butterflies,” Irina pointed out with a grin. “Poor Mrs. Volkov spent three hours removing every flower from the garden that might attract them.”
Azriel’s cheeks flushed pink, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “He deserved it. He told her I was a vegetarian when I specifically asked him not to make a big deal about dinner preferences.”
“I was trying to be considerate,” Kostya protested, though he was fighting a smile.
“You were trying to manage me,” she corrected, then softened the words by reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I can speak for myself, you know.”
“Trust me,” Viktor said dryly, “we’ve all learned that lesson. Remember when Adrian tried to explain to her how our security system worked?”
“He was being condescending,” Azriel defended herself. “Acting like I couldn’t understand basic technology because I’m not in the family business.”
“So you hacked into his personal computer and changed all his passwords to ‘arrogant asshole,’“ Fedya added, andKostya could swear he saw approval in his usually stoic brother’s eyes.
“In seventeen different languages,” Azriel added proudly. “It took him two days to regain access.”
The table erupted in laughter, and Kostya felt that familiar warmth spread through his chest. She fit here, belonged here in a way that had nothing to do with their forced marriage and everything to do with who she was. She could hold her own with his family, could find joy in their twisted sense of humor while calling them out when they crossed lines. She brought something light to their world, something that balanced out the darkness that came with their name.
“I like her,” Viktor declared, raising his wine glass in a mock toast. “She’s got spine.”
“And brains,” Irina added. “Don’t forget the brains. She’s the only one who’s ever successfully pranked Adrian.”
“Plus, she makes Kostya smile,” Fedya observed quietly. “That’s worth something.”
The comment hung in the air for a moment, surprisingly sentimental coming from his most reserved brother. Kostya caught Azriel’s startled glance and realized she hadn’t known how rare genuine smiles were for him, how much his family noticed the change in him since she’d entered his life.
The thought was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from one of his informants:Hartford spotted at the docks. Moving product for the Kozlovs.
Ice flooded his veins. Danny. Still alive, still causing problems, still breathing the same air as Azriel. Still existing in a world where he could potentially hurt her again. The manwho had sold his own daughter, who had caused the fear that sometimes flickered in her eyes when she thought no one was looking.
Kostya pocketed the phone, but the damage was done. The warm contentment of the evening evaporated, replaced by a cold fury that he recognized as dangerous. Danny Hartford had taken enough from Azriel. Had stolen her childhood, her sense of safety, her ability to trust. The man didn’t deserve to walk free while she still flinched at unexpected touches or woke up sometimes with fear in her eyes from dreams she wouldn’t discuss.
Images flashed through his mind: Azriel’s face when she’d first seen her father at the alliance party, the way she’d shrank away from Danny’s touch, the careful way she’d revealed the truth about her childhood. Every moment of pain Danny had caused her, every scar he’d left on her soul, demanded retribution.
“Kostya?” Azriel’s voice cut through his dark thoughts. “Everything okay?”
He looked up to find her watching him with concern, those perceptive gray eyes seeing too much as always. Around the table, his family had gone quiet, recognizing the shift in his mood even if they didn’t know the cause. Viktor’s hand had moved closer to his weapon, an unconscious response to the tension radiating from Kostya.
“Fine,” he said, forcing his expression to relax. “Just business.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she reached over and placed her hand over his, her touch warm and grounding. The simple gesture should have soothed him, but it only intensified his need to eliminatethe threat her father represented. This woman, this brilliant, strong, beautiful woman who was finally learning to trust again, deserved to be free from the shadow Danny cast over her life.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly, her thumb tracing gentle circles over his knuckles. “You look like you’re planning someone’s murder.”
