Page 23 of Owned By the Russian

“No chance in hell,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a smirk in it that made her blood boil.

Val kicked and struggled, but his grip was unrelenting, his strength maddeningly solid as he carried her down the stairs.

“You sick son of a bitch!” she screeched, her voice sharp and furious as she pounded her fists against his steel back. Her hair flew wildly across her face, tangling in her vision, but she didn’t stop struggling.

Her heart hammered erratically in her chest, each beat a mix of rage and something she refused to name.

“For someone who thought of sneaking into an estate, your attempt at stealing my keys was surprisingly unimpressive,” he said, his grip on her thighs tightening, firm and inescapable, his calloused fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her hips.

He kicked the front door open, shocking her as he strode toward the driveway instead of taking her back inside like she thought he would. The roughness of his hold sent heat coursing through her, frustratingly at odds with her anger.

He chuckled, a sound she felt vibrating in his wet chest. “But I’ll admit that it was kind of cute to watch.”

Despite the storm of emotions raging within her, a traitorous pulse began to thrum between her thighs, throbbing harder with every brush of his hands as they settled dangerously close to her ass. Her breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that she hoped he didn’t notice.

She gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the humiliation and fury instead of the betraying heat that simmered beneath it all. “Put me down, you bastard!” she snarled, though her voice trembled, giving away far more than she wanted.

He remained deaf to her protests as he approached his vehicle. “You really thought this would work?”

Val fumed. “Why can’t you just suck it up and accept that I don’t want to stay here?”

“Fine,” he said, opening the passenger door with one hand while still holding her securely. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as he set her down, his hands gripping her shoulders to keep her in place. “Then we’re staying somewhere else.”

She glared up at him, furious and breathless. “I hate you, Ilya Nikolai. You make me sick.”

“Good,” he replied, his smirk twisting into something darker, more cutting. His sharp, dark blue eyes bore into hers, unyielding. “But you know what makes me even more sick? It’s the fact that this isn’t just about you anymore. Those men? The ones that came after you? They’re connected to Ivonov.”

Her breath caught, her brows snapping together at the mention of an enemy of the Nikolais who had been under the radar for as long as she could remember. “Aleksander?”

“The very one,” he said flatly, his expression hard. “And they came after you because they think you’re close to us. We see you as family, so you’re an easy target.”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “To them, you’re leverage. And you’re lucky I intercepted the situation before it got worse.”

Valentina reeled, her mind spinning. Her knees threatened to buckle as his words sank in. “How do you know this?”

His dark gaze pinned her in place. “Because they’ve already been identified. And your father…” he paused, something unreadable flickering in his eyes as Valentina’s gaze snapped to his. “He knows what happened. He agrees it’s best for you to stay hidden in our care—for now.”

Val froze, her stomach twisting in knots. “My father—heagreedto this?”

Ilya’s smirk returned, colder now. “He didn’t have that much of a choice. Aleksander doesn’t stop, Valentina. If you go home, you’ll only be painting a target on your back, those of your siblings and his.”

Her heart thundered, her father’s betrayal slicing through her, as her pulse roared in her ears. She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to accept that her father had not only callously stripped her of her right to choose and make her opinions ofher own safetyknown but also entrusted it to the one man she despised the most.

Suddenly, she felt small. She was the baby of the house all over again, even in front of Ilya.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” she said, her voice shaking with defiance.

“No,” Ilya said, his voice deceptively calm. “But right now, you don’t have a choice. So, get in.”

Chapter 8 - Ilya

The car hummed softly as Ilya drove, but the air inside felt thick with palpable tension. From the corner of his eye, he could see Valentina in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw impossibly tight as she glared out the window, barely containing her rage.

The silent fury radiating off her felt uncomfortable, like harsh rays of a summer’s sun—sticky and thick on his skin. He could practically feel the heat of her resentment. She was spitting mad, and he knew exactly why.

Ilya didn’t need to be a mind reader to understand what was going through that pretty head of hers. In fact, he knew it all too well because he was the reason it was happening.

He was the reason she felt betrayed by her father’s agreement to do this. The truth was, it was he, Ilya himself, who had insisted the Nikolais were the best option for keeping her safe and practicallyvolunteeredfor the job right away.

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