Page 14 of The Bratva's Innocent Forbidden Bride
“Foolish girl,” I said, enjoying when she whipped her head back around to glare at me. “Now you all but told me that you are.” We couldn’t seem to go five minutes without a fight, and yet I stubbornly wouldn’t tell her I was only trying to help. She wouldn’t believe it anyway. “I don’t need you to tell me anything to find out.”
Raising her chin, she sniffed. “You must need me for something. And it’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever give in to you.”
Hmm. What would it actually take to make Tati give in to me? And how much would I enjoy it? Too damn much for my own good. I gave her a long look, the thoughts I’d been trying to push away since I saw her on the street in her tight skirt, rushing back in. An impossible task.
Made all the more impossible when she didn’t back down, returning my glare with one of her own, though I doubted the same feelings were stirring behind hers. And that only added fuel to the fire.
No. Hell no.
Finally turning away, I left the room. There was no way I wanted that impertinent girl.
Chapter 10 - Tatiana
Oh, thank God he was gone. The click of the door quietly shutting was like being released from a giant fist. I could breathe again, though raggedly. The way he’d been looking at me was about to burn me up; his steady gaze was like a physical touch. I should have hated it, but I didn’t, and that only made me angrier. Those gray eyes were assessing, proprietary, with an undertone of annoyance. Like I was the problem in this situation.
The rush of anger at his questions and lingering stare felt good and chased away the dread left over from my nightmare, but I wasn’t grateful to Kon. There wasn’t a shred of compassion in him.
The teapot and toast, which was cold and soggy by now, shouted at me that he’d been trying to be nice, but then he started in on the interrogation. I snorted in indignation, remembering that Papa always told me what a great judge of character Kon was.
Wrong. Papa had been so wrong about the man he wasted a lifetime of loyalty on. One little mistake—on Kon’s end, because there was no way Papa stole from him—and Kon relegated him to enemy status. He didn’t want to find my father to figure things out. He wanted to make him pay.
One thing I did have to be grateful for was the fact that I was no longer locked in. An hour or so of silence went by, and I carefully peeked out into the hallway. No one jumped out to tell me to get back into my cell, and as I found my way to the kitchen, I realized I must be alone in the place.
“Kon?” I called, testing my theory. “Anyone?”
It was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and ignoring my pounding heart and clammy hands, I started searching the place. All I needed was a cellphone or access to a computer, and I’d be free. I didn’t have a clue who I’d call, since I’d spent a lifetime being trained to never trust the police.
Would they have the ability to storm this place to rescue me? It was likely the Fokins had so many people on the force in their pockets that my call wouldn’t make it past dispatch, and I didn’t know a single soul in Los Angeles. But I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
The bridge never appeared. No phone and no laptop lying around, either. Besides the guest room I was staying in, there was another smaller bedroom at the back of the apartment. Small favors that he’d given me, the better guest room, or was it only because mine was decked out with a lock on the outside? I briefly tried to find a way to disable it without Kon noticing, but I gave up, not wanting him to come home and immediately decide I needed to be locked in at all times.
What I assumed was his bedroom was also locked up, the knob completely immobile to any jiggling. My ancient and unpracticed lock-picking skills proved futile. There was no way to get word out unless I wanted to lean over the balcony and start hollering. I almost considered that until the guard who was out in the elevator room poked his head in to check on me.
“Do you want fried chicken?” he asked. “One of us is going to get takeout from this great place down the street.”
“No thanks, but that’s nice of you,” I said, both because it actually was nice and to keep him from suspecting me of ever thinking about shouting for help.
He narrowed his gaze on my hand resting on the sliding glass door. “Do I need to sit in here and keep an eye on you? Because the boss won’t like to have to call a cleanup crew.”
“Oh my God, I would never,” I said, horrified enough at his assumption that I might jump that he nodded and went back to his post outside in the hall.
Being kidnapped and kept from finding my father had put me in a low mood, and Kon had enraged me enough that I might have considered shoving him over the edge, but I wasn’t anywhere near close to jumping. I still had plenty of fight left in me, even if my hope was waning. I continued searching the place for anything I could use to escape or protect myself against Kon.
Would he actually try to hurt me? At any point before yesterday afternoon, I would have sworn the answer was no. Now, everything I thought I knew was destroyed.
The kitchen had fresh croissants in a basket on the counter, but I ignored them. If I ever came across the housekeeper or cook, it was unlikely I could get them on my side. Nobody gained access to a place like this without being vetted. While Kon was as new to Los Angeles as I was, his nephews and nieces lived here all their lives and would have an army of staff that would be completely loyal to them.
It was disappointing how fast they had turned against Papa, and by extension, me. No one would help me in Moscow, so certainly none of them would help me here. It was enough to make me want to retreat back to my room, where at least it was cozy, and put my head under the covers.
Maybe this was the nightmare, everything going back to when Papa stopped messaging me or answering my calls. Before, when my life was sheltered and safe. Before I got on a plane and landed in the exact place I didn’t want to be.
To keep from lapsing into despair, I searched every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen. Knives galore, but I wasn’t desperate or foolish enough to believe I could ever get a swipe in against Kon, least of all debilitate him. He was too big, too strong, and too well-trained. Short of finding a loaded gun and being willing to use it, I’d never physically overpower that man.
Being tossed over his shoulder like I was a feather pillow and dragged into a vice grip against his chest when I’d been hysterical told me that I had to rely on my wits alone to get out of this situation.
If only I could think straight and not keep boomeranging between feral rage at Kon’s betrayal of my father and the weird, overly warm feeling that overwhelmed me when I thought about how big and strong he was. Or the way he looked at me.
There was a shiny silver gift bag festooned with curling ribbons on the counter, and even after picking through everything else in the apartment I could get my hands on, it felt oddly invasive to peek into that present.
