Page 18 of The Russian's Revenge Bride
She moved toward the door, then paused and looked back at me. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got caught up in this. You seem like a good person, and you don’t deserve what’s happening to you.”
“But you’re not going to help me escape.”
“No. I’m not.”
And with that, she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the growing certainty that I was completely fucked.
I looked up at the camera in the corner, wondering if Maxim had heard our entire conversation. If he was analyzing every word, looking for weaknesses to exploit or threats to neutralize.
“I hope you’re listening,” I said to the camera, my voice carrying clearly in the quiet room. “Because your sister is right. This isn’t going to end the way you think it will.”
The camera stared back at me, silent and unblinking, offering no answers and no comfort.
I was trapped in a game I didn’t understand, with rules that seemed to change based on the whims of a man who thought love and violence were the same thing.
Would I survive long enough to prove him wrong?
Chapter 6 – Maxim
The office door opened without a knock. Not Lev’s heavy footsteps or Cassandra’s quiet efficiency. This was different. Confident heels on marble, the kind that said fuck you and your rules.
A woman walked in like she owned the place, honey-blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, green eyes that caught everything and gave nothing back. She wore a chic blazer that probably cost more than most people made in a month, and she carried herself like someone who’d never been told no.
She tossed a flash drive onto my desk without ceremony. The plastic clattered against the wood, spinning once before coming to rest next to my coffee cup.
“Zara Delgado,” she said, settling into the chair across from me like we were old friends meeting for lunch instead of…whatever the fuck this was.
I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral. In my world, staying colder than your opponent wasn’t just strategy. It was survival.
“Should I know you?”
“Eleanor’s friend. Her PR specialist. And the person who’s going to make your life very complicated if you don’t listen carefully.”
I glanced at the flash drive, then back at her face. “I’m listening.”
“That contains security footage from outside Eleanor’s office. You were smart enough to cut the main security feed but not the backup ones. Timestamp shows exactly when you grabbed her. High definition, multiple angles, face clearly visible.” She crossed her legs, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who’d just walked into a lion’s den. “I’ve got backups. Lots of them. In very safe places.”
Shit.
“Interesting.” I picked up the drive, turning it over in my fingers. “And you’re telling me this because?”
“Because I want my friend back. Alive. Unharmed. Today.”
I set the drive down and studied her face. No tremor in her voice, no tell in her posture. Either she was very good at hiding fear, or she was too stupid to be properly afraid. In my experience, both types were dangerous.
“Eleanor isn’t the target,” I said finally. “She’s collateral. She’s alive, safe, fed. That’s more consideration than most people in her position receive.”
“Collateral.” Zara’s voice turned sharp as broken glass. “That’s what you call kidnapping an innocent woman? Collateral?”
“I call it leverage.”
“Against William Beaumont? You really think that bastard gives a shit about his daughter?”
That got my attention. I’d done my research on William, knew he was a cold fuck who treated his family like business assets. But hearing it confirmed by someone who knew Eleanor personally was…useful.
“You sound like you know him well.”
“I know enough. I know he threw Eleanor under the bus every time his business needed a scapegoat. I know he missed her college graduation because a construction deal in Miami was more important. I know he hasn’t called her in three months, not even on her birthday.”
