Page 6 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
He jogs ahead and opens the back door.
I flip Belle in my arms and throw her onto the back seat, sliding in behind her. Drake climbs into the driver’s seat and the car revs loudly, then the wheels spin against tar as we take off in a hurry.
Belle sits quietly, not fighting me in any way.
For a moment, I panic, thinking she might have passed out if Drake put the tape on wrong and she can’t breathe. I grab the hood and tug it off her head.
It pulls her hair loose from the high bun it was in, and thick, caramel brown curls fall over her shoulders, tussled and messy.
Her blue eyes move onto me, and my gaze locks with hers.
She tilts her head to the side and raises her brows, but still makes no attempt to fight or get away.
My annoyance flares. I grab the tape and rip it off her mouth; it pulls some of her red lipstick with it. Her skin is rosy where the tape was.
“You can scream now,” I snarl. “No one will hear.”
She bites her lip and narrows her eyes. “Then what would the point be?”
“Do you really not know who I am? If you did, you would not be so calm, Belle.”
She huffs out a sigh and shrugs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are.”
“My name is Ardalion Pushkin,” I say, my voice low and menacing.
She nods, nothing else. No reaction, no panic. What the fuck?
I clench my jaw and look forward. “How long till we get there?” I snap at Drake.
“Ten minutes,” he answers immediately.
Turning my face away from her, I stare out the window. It bothers me that she isn’t trembling, but it’s irrelevant. I didn’t take her to scare her; I took her in a revenge plot against her brother.
Her feelings on the matter are inconsequential.
It shouldn’t bother me that isn’t scared.
But it does.
I look at her again, and she’s watching me. Her blue eyes are bright and sharp as they trace over my face.
It must be shock. She hasn’t realized what’s going on yet.
Or she’s just smart. There’s nowhere to run in the car. Nowhere to go. Perhaps she’s waiting for the right time to fight back.
I shouldn’t underestimate her.
We drive in silence. I watch her from the corner of my eye, intrigue and curiosity flowing through me. Benedikt might have trained her for this type of situation.
But being in one is very different from roleplaying a scenario.
Drake parks outside an office building in Las Vegas. He is a contact of mine, one from Los Angeles, whom I flew in for this exact purpose.
“Come,” I say to Belle, taking her arm and pulling her across the seat to follow me.
“What is this place?” she asks.
“No questions,” I snap.
