Page 71 of Delicious Prey

The smile he gives me is one of pure joy, and when he stands and picks me up, I give him a wide-eyed look of horror. “You can’t pick me up!”

He laughs and ignores me. “Don’t worry, little bunny, I’m not putting any strain on the wound. I just want to hold my fiancée.”

With my hands cupping his face, my beautiful engagement ring rests against his cheek as I lean closer for a kiss. I run my tongue along his bottom lip, pulling back when he tries to capture my lips with his. He lifts a dark brow at me.

“Someone’s feeling ballsy.” His eyes darken when he cups the back of my head and pulls me closer. “I think my little bunny has forgotten who’s in charge here.” He nips softly at my bottom lip. “I may be injured right now, but I’m a quick healer, sweetheart. I’ll have you on your knees again in no time, kneeling at my feet like the good girl you are, blindfolded and bound.”

When I let out a soft moan at his words, he gives me a sexy smirk right before he kisses me hard, making me forget about everything except the feel of his mouth on mine. He pulls back before I’m ready, and seeing the blatant hunger on my face makes him give me a wink before carrying me back to his office.

“You really need to put me down. I don’t want you tearing the stitches or hurting yourself.”

He smacks my ass. “Stop worrying about me, zaika. I worry about you, not the other way around.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, and he laughs at my sarcastic tone as he sets me down so he can grab the thick envelope from his desk drawer.

“Don’t freak out,” he says, giving me a crooked smile while his eyes stay lit up with amusement.

I take the envelope, not having any idea what in the hell I’m going to find in it. When I reach in, I pull out a stack of documents and passports. I look up at him in confusion, and when I open the first passport, my jaw drops open. It’s an American passport, my passport apparently, but I’ve never gotten a passport, so I have no fucking clue what the hell this is or where he got it.

“Lydia Chernikov,” I read, my eyebrows nearly hitting my hairline. “What the hell?” The other passport I grab is Russian, and when I open it, it’s the same photo of me, but this time everything is written in Cyrillic with English beneath. “Lydia Chernikova.”

“That’s the female version of our last name in Russian,” he clarifies when I’m still standing there dumbfounded.

I open up the other passports. An American and Russian one for Kirill, and then there’s another set of American passports for us with the last name Johnson.

“Those are to get us out of the country. Way too common of a last name to draw attention.”

I keep looking through everything. Driver’s licenses, birth certificates, and when I see the marriage license, I hold it up to him. “When did we get married?”

He looks at the paper and grins. Pointing at the date that’s been filled in, he says, “Two years ago. Happy anniversary, baby.”

“This is insane. How? When?” I’m too stunned to do much more than stare and fumble around one-word questions.

“I had it all done when I was in prison. I knew we’d end up here, and I wanted to make sure we had what we needed when the time came.” He waves a hand at what must have cost a small fortune. “They’re all completely legit. We can fly out on a private plane, go anywhere you want, live wherever you want. No one’s going to come for me.”

“Yeah, why is that?” I ask. “I Googled you when you went to Ivan’s that night and left me alone with your computer. There’s nothing about you on the news.”

He smiles at my admission. “I knew they’d do one of two things once they realized I’d escaped. They’d either have a worldwide manhunt, or they’d pretend it never happened.”

He gives a soft laugh. “I’m still kind of surprised they went this route, but it makes sense. I mean, who the hell is going to know I’m not there? I was in solitary confinement. I never even saw the other prisoners. They can easily pretend I’m still there, and no one will be the wiser. Otherwise, they’ll have one hell of a shitstorm to deal with. It’s more important for them to pretend I’m still in prison, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be okay with me walking around and flaunting my freedom. Once we’re out of the States, we can live our lives in peace.” He steps closer and cups my face. “Where do you want our baby to be born?”

“Your mom’s in Greece. I wouldn’t mind meeting her. We could start there and explore, find a place we both like.”

He smiles and leans down. “Whatever my fiancée wants.”

* * *

Seven months later

“Oh my god, I can barely move. Just toss me in the water, I can float back to shore.”

Kirill laughs and comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my very large pregnant belly and burying his face in my neck.

“You look beautiful, baby.”

I laugh and rest my hands on his. We’ve been in Greece for six months now, and it already feels like home. We bought a gorgeous house on the island of Corfu, and shortly after, Kirill surprised me with a yacht. In the earlier months of my pregnancy, we were on it all the time, traveling to the different islands, seeing so many things that I never thought I’d ever see. Every day I wake up grateful to be here, grateful to be with him and for the life we have together. Kirill’s mom and stepdad live in Athens, and we’ve spent a lot of time with them, but we mostly keep to ourselves. We like it that way. Vadim flies over regularly, and I think we’ve just about convinced him to move here. It’s hard not to fall in love with the gorgeous blue water and sandy beaches.

Shortly after coming here, Kirill had asked me if I wanted a wedding, and I didn’t even have to think about my answer. I’d told him no. We already had the marriage certificate, and I had all the documents with my new last name. I was fine with that. I didn’t need the white dress, and I don’t regret my decision. One night after we’d eaten supper we’d taken a walk along the beach, and Kirill had surprised me by reciting vows to me under the moonlight. They were personal and from the heart, promises that were unique to him and our relationship, not just something he was reciting because a minster told him to. When he was finished, I did the same, and for the both of us, that’s more meaningful than any marriage ceremony. It was perfect.

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