Page 21 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
The captain takes a few steps closer, his eyes moving between my men and me. He's assessing, calculating odds. He won't find them favorable.
"I heard you've got a girl," he says, his tone dropping lower. "Pretty thing. Russian. I'm wondering if maybe she's someone we're looking for."
The fact that he's asking means they don't know for certain, but they're fishing. I don't answer immediately. Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, let him feel the weight of my stare. This is a game, and I'm deciding whether to play or end it right here in this library.
"What girl are you talking about?" I finally ask, my voice low and dangerous.
The captain smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He takes another step forward, and I feel Matvey's hand move closer to his weapon.
"The one you took from the street," he says. "The one we think might be Yegor's daughter."
11
MARIYA
I've been pacing this room for hours, and with each step, my anger builds. The plush carpet beneath my feet does nothing to soften the fury that's been simmering inside me since this morning. Since he walked out of here like what happened between us meant nothing.
How dare he?
How dare Andrey Melnikov kidnap me, interrogate me, lock me in this gilded cage, and then have the audacity to fuck me like I'm some willing participant in whatever twisted game he's playing? And then,then, he just walks out. No explanation. No acknowledgment of what we did. Just gone, like I'm nothing more than a problem he's temporarily solved.
I stop at the window, gripping the bars until my knuckles turn white. The metal is cold and unyielding, a constant reminder that no matter how nice this room is, I'm still a prisoner. Still trapped. Still completely at his mercy.
The worst part? I can't stop thinking about it. Abouthim. He's sexy and gorgeous, no doubt about that. I'd thought I could justhave sex with him, for the greater good, of course, and continue my way toward escape. But what we did seemed a little more than just sex—at least to me. Probably because I don't make a habit of sleeping around. But the way he made me feel…
Ugh, I have to stop thinking about him!
I resume pacing, my thoughts spiraling. Maybe he does this all the time. Maybe he has a rotation of women he keeps locked up in various rooms throughout this massive estate, visiting them whenever the mood strikes. The thought makes my stomach turn, but I can't shake it. What do I really know about Andrey Melnikov? Nothing except that he's dangerous, powerful, and apparently thinks he owns me.
The sound of a key in the lock makes me freeze. My heart slams against my ribs as the door swings open, and there he is.
Andrey steps into the room, his arms full of clothes. My clothes, I realize with a jolt. He's wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, and his dark hair is slightly disheveled, like he's been running his hands through it. Those blue eyes find mine immediately, and butterflies swirl in my belly.
My reaction to seeing him makes me even more furious. I cross the room in three quick strides and punch him squarely in the nose.
The impact sends a shock of pain through my knuckles, but it's worth it. His head snaps back, and blood immediately gushes from his nose, streaming down over his lips and chin. The clothes in his arms tumble to the floor as his hands fly to his face.
"What the hell was that for?" he demands, his voice muffled behind his hands.
"For kidnapping me!" I shout, my voice shaking with rage. "For interrogating me like I'm some criminal. For locking me in this room. For treating me like I'm nothing more than a piece of property you can use however you want!"
He stares at me, blood seeping between his fingers, and I see genuine shock in his eyes. Like he can't believe I actually hit him. Like he didn't think I had it in me.
Well, fuck him. I have a lot more in me than he realizes.
"You had sex with me and then just walked out," I continue, my voice rising. "You didn't even have the decency to say anything. You just left me there like I'm some whore you picked up off the street!"
"Mariya—"
"Don't." I hold up a hand, cutting him off.
He doesn't respond, just stands there, blood dripping onto his shirt, staining the black fabric even darker. For a moment, I feel a flicker of guilt. I've now stabbed him and punched him in the face. But then my eyes land on what he dropped, and all the guilt evaporates.
My jewelry box. My mother's jewelry box. The one my father gave me the last time I saw him, filled with the only pieces of my old life I have left. My hands start to shake, and I have to clench them into fists to stop the trembling.
"Where did you get that?" I demand, pointing at the box lying among the scattered clothes. My voice comes out low and dangerous, barely controlled. "Did you go through my personal things? Did you break into my apartment?"
Andrey doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he bends down and starts gathering the clothes, including the jewelry box. He moves calmly, methodically, like I didn't just punch him in the face. Like blood isn't still streaming from his nose.
