Page 23 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
“So that’s it?” I question, unable to keep my hands from shaking. “Those are my choices? I have to pick between being your wife or your prisoner?”
“Either you become my wife, or you face a fate worse than being a prisoner, as you like to put it.”
The implications are ice cold, but it doesn’t even faze him.
My throat tightens, and my heart feels weak after racing for so long.
I hate how calm and confident he is. How this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. He makes it seem like he has already mapped out every possible outcome of any move I might make.
It’s discouraging, and so is the fact that I’m likely not far off.
Turning away from him, keeping my arms crossed, I can’t help but feel like I’m offering my back like the perfect target. But I don’t want to look at him.
Glancing out the window, the luxury of his penthouse is so glaringly obvious that it annoys me. Even the view of the skyline is immaculate.
Someone as cruel and dishonest as he shouldn’t get to enjoy it.
A few weeks ago, I assumed the space belonged to a man who liked to keep things classy. But now, I see the truth.
The condo is nothing more than a pretty exterior built with blood money, made to distract with fancy illusions. Underneath it all is something far too sinister to fathom.
And I fell for it. I allowed myself to drift right into his web.
I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat. “Why me?”
“You mean, why not just kill you and be done with it?”
My stomach squeezes at the simple way he says it.
“Yeah, that.”
Mikhail’s steps approach me, getting far too close for comfort. But I force myself to turn around and face him. As much as I want to put more space between us, I don’t move.
He takes me in again, not at all ashamed of it. “Because killing you isn’t on the list of things I’m willing to do. I’d rather see you alive than dead, believe it or not.”
Annoyingly, my heart reacts to that, almost squeezing at the thought.
It brings me back to that night, when I can easily remember the way he touched me and the way his silky voice made me forget who I was and what I had lost for a little while.
That moment was addictive in its own right, but this isn’t seduction.
“You’re trying to trap me,” I murmur, feeling too much warmth between our bodies.
“I’m giving you a choice.”
“Backing me into a corner isn’t offering me a choice,” I remind him, doing my best to stand my ground despite it all.
Mikhail moves in a little closer, holding me captive with his stare alone.
“Let me lay it out for you then…you marry me, including the paperwork, the ring, and everything else. You go back to school, you finish med school. You get your titles, your relative freedom, and your life. Anybody who might be interested in seeking you out in connection with me or last night gets killed on the spot. Nobody lays a hand on you,” he says, pausing while his features harden. “Or, you refuse, and I keep you tucked out of sight somewhere safe and secluded. Somewhere, nobody will find you for a long, long time. You’ll disappear from the public completely. No school, no degree, and no helping people.”
My skin goes cold, and I feel the blood drain from my face.
I know he means it. His eyes give away that he isn’t bluffing.
He takes me in, and his words come out gently. “If you think I won’t do it, then you’re underestimating just how far I’ll go for myself and my family. I can be fair, and I can be lighthearted, but don’t mistake that for weakness.”
“Wrapping control up like protection and care doesn’t change what it is,” I mutter, struggling to fight for what I want without reaching an immediate stalemate.
