Page 3 of Captured Obsession

No, I won’t go without a fight.

Dizziness sweeps over me, but I claw for every scrap of energy left in me as I smash my heel down into the man's foot and twist, a subtle warmth of satisfaction blooming in my stomach as I hear him curse. But it’s already too late. My world begins to dim, and before I know it, I'm falling into an abyss of darkness.

2

NIKOLAI

My foot is on absolute fire after she attempted to drill a hole into it with her fucking heel. Honestly, I didn't think the preppy blonde would have it in her. I certainly won’t make the same mistake ever again.

I sit across from her, excruciatingly impatient for her to wake up. I’d almost feel sorry for her, if I had a conscience. I’m not one to usually use such methods against women, but it was the most effective approach. And better me to take her than one of the other men.

It's not like it was her actions that got her into this situation. And I have suspicions that she doesn't even understand why she's here. Though, I imagine I'm going to see that pretty face of hers change the moment I explain who her friends really are and expose the lies they’ve told her.

My boss has grown impatient, and decided to move in a more radical direction. So, kidnapping it was.

I fitted the entire room for her arrival, in an attempt to make it more comfortable. Granted, she’s not waking up in the same country or with the same luxuries of her penthouse suite in London, but whatever.

After watching her closely for three months, I take pride in the fact that I know my target’s tastes well. The room is covered in silks, including the sheets she currently sleeps on, and the curtains covering the windowed alcove. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the view when those curtains are open.

The bathroom is marble with golden taps and a claw-footed bathtub. I even went to the extremes to replicate her entire skincare regimen, down to some of the strange utensils she uses. Everything is available to her, except of course, stilettos, which I’ve had my men confiscate from her wardrobe. I only need to learn a lesson once.

I sit in the ivy green chair in the corner, my men farther down the hall and in position for my next command. I just hope it doesn’t take long for her friends in New York to realize she’s gone missing, and for Luca Armani to be informed. After all, his wife is one of her best friends.

This poor little doll is nothing but a pawn to draw their attention, and the sooner Luca Armani has set his sights on us, the sooner she can return to her perfectly polished life as if nothing happened.

Sienna's eyelids flutter, and she moans in her sleep. “How could you do this to me?”

I very much doubt the person in question is me. It’s most likely her B-list actor ex-fiancé, Michael Balfore, who publicly humiliated her in a cheating scandal. If anything, she should be thanking me for taking her away on what might be considered a little holiday. Depending how nicely and obediently she plays.

Her naturally curly blonde hair fans around her face, and suddenly, her bright blue eyes open. Although most people wake up groggily after the effects of the drug, she seems to snap right to attention, her gaze immediately finding me in the corner of the room.

“Where am I?” she demands in a clipped, cold tone, different from her usual warm nature that I’ve observed from a distance. Though, this colder version of her surprisingly makes my cock twitch. I've been watching her for some time now, and even when she's most depressed, I notice how she always fakes a smile. I can't help but smirk in response, knowing she's showing me the real her right now. She’s not at all that perfect and put-together persona she shows to the world. At her core, she’s a woman willing to do anything to survive. A practical woman.

“You're somewhere safe, as long as you know how to keep your mouth shut and listen to orders.”

Her gaze narrows, and I can see the defiant clench of her jaw. Is she no longer scared of me? Or evenbetter, is she pretending not to be? “I promised myself that I wouldn't take orders from a man ever again, so you're shit out of luck.” Her response surprises me, piquing the curiosity of my internal beast. “Why the fuck have you taken me? Are you after a ransom from my father?”

I can't help but chuckle. She’s definitely a spoiled little princess, but not a bad conclusion to come to. “Oh, my dear, sweet Sienna Falcone, there is nothing your father can provide me with that I can’t provide for myself. Unfortunately for you, it's nothisattention I'm after, though I’m sure he’d pay handsomely for your return.”

She unsteadily pushes herself up, despite the clear-headedness she feigns to have. Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Then whose attention are you after?”

Not yet shaking in her boots. How interesting. I thought this woman would crumble immediately, but perhaps the distance I was forced to watch her from caused me to read her wrong.

“Why, Luca Armani, of course.” Her eyebrows knit together, confirming my suspicions that she has no idea that one of her best friends is married to the head of the Italian mafia. So, for good measure, I add, “And Dmitri Volkov.” Since I know the two work together, and Dmitri is also married to one of her best friends. They’ve done well to hide this from her, considering how tight their inner circle is.

“What? Why? I’m not close to them. I meannothing to Luca and Dmitri.” Her fingers curl into the blanket, and even through the obvious confusion, her chin is held high and her shoulders are pulled back, as if she’scommandingme to give her answers. That rubs me the wrong way.

“True, you don't mean anything to them, but you mean everything to their women, Arabella Armani and Elanee Volkov. They'll be quite upset when they hear about your disappearance, I’m sure,” I tack on, perhaps tormenting her a little more than I should, irked by the way she demands answers from me.

Tension coils in her body, and I’m surprised by her quick outburst. “This is kidnapping!” she yells, and jumps from the bed, swiping the bedside lamp and throwing it at me, pulling it from its socket. I lean to the side, allowing it to smash against the wall beside me. She’s a fighter after all, not just a glum little heartbroken doll.

“Careful,mishka, I quite enjoy my women feisty.”

She stiffens at that, and the energy in the room shifts. As intended. It would be her mistake to take me as anything but a threat.

“I'm not your anything,” she seethes.

“To put it simply, you’re my prisoner until a reasonable exchange is made with the Italian mafia. It’s up to you and your attitude as to whether you’re treated as a guest.” I emphasize my next words. “Or otherwise.” She inhales a sharp breath.