Page 53 of Fortress of the Heart

He laughs. “And they say I’m a bastard to work for.”

“It was an accident,” I say. “And we still haven’t solved the issue of Katiya. She can’t stay until the weekend.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Well, when you do, make sure I’m the first to know.”

“Got to go. I’ve got a press conference to address my would-be death in an hour, and it’ll be a perfect opportunity to mention the changes in the Medici family.”

“The sooner the message is out there, the better,” I agree. “Just be aware, if word gets out we have Katiya in our fold, the shit’ll hit the fan.”

“Use your powers of persuasion, Marco, fuck knows you’re the smoothest one out of the lot of us.”

With that, he hangs up. I pull the phone back and stare at it, shaking my head.

Subtle as usual.

I can feel the day ahead about to unfold, and I half wonder if I shouldn’t have stayed at home with that crazy Russian.

11

KATIYA

I flounceon the four-poster when he leaves.

He’s got me all wound up with no place to go but these four luxurious walls. Poor me, being exiled to this. I could think of worse places than being stuck in Marco Medici's medieval castle.

If he weren’t so damned serious all the time, could I like him? Maybe.

He’s handsome. Sex on a stick handsome. One of those men who looked like they just stepped out of a Ralph Lauren fragrance commercial. His smoldering eyes, those cheekbones, that dark, shiny hair…he’s fucking beautiful.

That’s where the niceties end.

I mean, who does he think he is? Throwing me in here and locking away the key is only fueling my burning hatred for him … as well as desire. I don’t know what’s going on with me or wherethatis coming from, but I put it down to trauma.

Backing me up against dresser and hovering over me like that will not win him any favors, far from it. It’s only going to spur on my witty comebacks and show him that I won’t be ruled by any man especially a mobster.

He can try, but he’ll never break me.

Vlad has been trying for years, and now my father has come on board; I’m fighting a losing battle.

I have a mental image of the look on his face when I was swinging the La Perla’s around in the air for all to see.

Serves him right.

I keep telling myself it’s not chemistry burning between us. Just because he smells great, dresses fabulously, has exceptional hair, and probably has a body to die for under that suit, does not mean I’m going to fall at his feet.

He can think again.

He might call me a Russian Princess, but I’ve got news for him if he ever tries to lay a hand on me; I’ll cut the damn thing off.

I grab the TV remote and flick through the channels. I’ve no idea what he expects me to do for two whole days. Maybe I should just catch up on some sleep … hopefully when I wake up, this nightmare will be over.

If only I could sleep…

After I find nothing of interest on the television, I decide to check out the opulent bathroom and possibly run myself a bath. There’s no point in being stuck here and not utilizing the facilities.

I also need to make some calls when His Royal Highness returns. That is, if I’m still even allowed to do that.

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