Page 10 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
The woman I got so lost in while feeling and tasting her. The one who has been haunting me ever since that night.
Lily.
She’s the witness.
Chapter 3 - Lily
The walls are almost agonizingly white, and the fluorescent light above my head flickers occasionally, straining my eyes even more. There isn’t a single window, but I notice the drain in the center of the floor, and a camera mounted in the left corner.
I don’t even want to know.
My stomach hasn’t stopped aching since the one man hauled me in with something covering my head, only to leave me with cuffs on my wrists and far too many fears ramming against my skull.
At the very least, I want to know where I am, but I have no clue. The room feels cold and almost stale, like it’s underground, but that’s all I can gather.
As much as it looks like an interrogation room, I know full well it isn’t a police station—not after what I saw.
With the metal cuffs inhibiting my movements, I can’t ignore how little control I have over the situation. How I can’t do anything but sit in the metal chair at the table and wait.
I try my hardest to stay calm and breathe through it, but regardless of my efforts, I can’t make sense of what’s going on.
Then the door opens, and my heart nearly stops.
I half expect the other man to come in, but someone else does instead. Someone slightly taller but similar in muscle mass.
As I meet his gaze, I immediately freeze.
My eyes widen, not expecting to see that face ever again.
He stops, too, almost looking like he’s been punched in the gut. Just as stunned, he doesn’t move a muscle.
At first, I half-believe that I’m only imagining things. That I’m hallucinating or something.
But with the way his brows furrow and recognition floods his features, he knows me. And I know him.
And it suddenly makes sense as to why the other man looked so familiar to me. He had to be related to him in some way.
“Mikhail?”
As much as my confusion makes me want to believe it isn’t him, I know it is.
“Lily.”
My name leaves his mouth low and tense, sending a chill through me at the reminder of our night together.
I had never been one to hook up with strangers, but that night, I had a few drinks in my system, and my inhibitions certainly went out the window.
His interest in me had caught me so off-guard at the time, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if I should’ve been more careful.
He was a walking dream—he still is.
Wearing dark slacks and a black button-down with relaxed cuffs, he looks both intimidating and more appealing than I’d like to admit.
Even so, seeing him after everything that went down tonight doesn’t make any sense.
I blink back at him. “What are you doing here—what am I doing here?”
Mikhail doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he sighs, then glances back at the other man while he walks in and closes the door, leaving me alone with the two of them.
