Page 70 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
They definitely don’t work for Mikhail’s family, and they seem like the exact men he tried to warn me about.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to fawn. “Don’t do this…”
But the one on my left steps in, obviously unwavering with his intentions. “Just keep quiet, sweetheart…you’re coming with us.”
Cold, icy regret pumps through me, and I try to spin around to retreat into the washroom, but before I can, the man reaches for the handle and pulls the door firmly closed. At the same time, his body cages me against it, sending a horrible feeling through my system.
The other men close in, and I’m surrounded.
My heart pounds against my rib cage, and I try to find my voice. I try to reach inside myself for any kind of solution.
Pulling in a breath, I go to scream, but the man’s fingers grip my hair, yanking me back before I let go of a sound.
And with enough splitting force, he knocks the side of my head against the door, sending white and black spots into my vision.
At once, everything slips into pure darkness.
Chapter 24 - Mikhail
I know I should’ve shrugged them off in the first place. Now, I’ve only given them more ideas.
It’s nothing new either. The women here have always been shameless and relentless, especially around my brothers and me. They know exactly who owns the place, and they’re always hoping to use that to their advantage.
But the women, the noise, and everything else in the club are nothing but distractions. I know better than to let them linger, especially with my wife being in the same room.
One of them laughs at whatever came from her mouth, not even at something I said, and her fingers brush against my arm like we have history. We sure as hell don’t. In fact, I don’t even know her name; I just know she works here as a bottle girl. The other two are dancers, and they’re making it more than obvious they’re likely hoping for a jump in pay, or maybe just a night with me. They probably assume it’s easier to flirt with someone holding power when they’re drunk and distracted.
Tonight, I’m neither.
Maybe at one time, I would’ve indulged. But that’s behind me now.
Lily isn’t just some figurehead, like a step-in to fill that role for me. She’s my wife, and that means something to me, as I hope it means the same to her.
Glancing over at Sergey and Ivan, I silently wait for one of them to step in and take my place, like they usually have no problem doing. But they’re both distracted by a brunette between them.
Roman is in his own bubble with Victoria, Nikolai is off by the bar on his own, and Elena is somewhere talking to Lily—at least, she had been.
Glancing over at where I saw them last, my brows furrow when I find nobody there. Instead, Elena is chatting with one of our guards, distracting him from doing his job.
Turning my head, I do another quick scan, but I don’t see Lily anywhere. She’s gone.
Frowning, I step away from the women without saying a word. They pout and look dejected, but I don’t care, and I don’t pretend to. I don’t give them a second glance.
It’s almost unsettling to realize just how tethered I am to Lily. How she doesn’t have to do anything to reinforce my intentions or my commitment to her.
She may still be uncertain about me and our future, but I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my life. About anyone.
Continuing to look around, wondering if I just happen to keep skipping over her in the crowd, I still don’t see her. No matter how slowly I scan the space, I can’t find her.
She was with Elena not even ten minutes ago.
Not wasting a beat, I move over to where Elena’s chatting, and I throw the guard a look before waving him away. He moves obediently, correcting himself upon being caught. Then I focus on my sister.
“I was having a perfectly fine conversation—”
“Where’s Lily?” I ask, not giving her the chance to linger on anything else.
Her expression sobers at my concern, and she looks vaguely confused. “Lily? She just went to the washroom. She said she would be right back.”
