Page 127 of Fierce Pursuit

“Do you like bubbles in your bath?” he asked, still not looking up.

I clenched my fists. “Did you hear me? I said I’m not going to marry you.”

Kostya hummed as if I hadn’t spoken at all, nodding to himself as he selected one of the bottles. “Yeah. You’re the type of girl who likes bubbles in her bath.”

He uncorked the glass, pouring a ribbon of rich liquid into the steaming water. Instantly, the scent of vanilla and jasmine unfurled into the air, sweet and intoxicating.

I hated that he was right. Ididlike bubbles. I loved sinking into a bath that smelled like heaven, letting the warmth soothe away aches and tension. And my bodywassore, every muscle worn from the night before. It would feel like bliss.

But I wasn’t about to let him use that against me.

I wasn’t about to let him distract me with softness while he stole my freedom.

“Kostya,” I snapped, stomping my foot against the freezing tile floor. The sharp contrast between the warmth of the bath and the cold seeping into my skin had me shivering. “You may have taken most of my choices away, but this is one decision you will not make for me. Iwill notmarry you.”

He turned off the tap, unhurried, unbothered. “It’s not up for discussion, babygirl.”

His voice was smooth, utterly calm, but there was something final in it, something that made my stomach drop. “The arrangements are already being made. We will get married tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

I swayed as my vision blurred. The air felt too thick, the steam suffocating instead of comforting. My chest tightened, my heart pounded against my ribs in a wild, panicked rhythm.

He hadn’t even looked at me.

Hadn’t given me the dignity of facing me while he stripped away my choices.

“Over my dead body,” I snarled, my teeth clenched so tightly my jaw ached.

That finally got his attention.

Kostya stood in one smooth motion, reaching down to turn off the water.

The sudden silence rang in my ears.

His movements were measured, controlled, but the way his jaw flexed, a sharp tick of muscle beneath his skin, told me what his calm exterior didn’t.

He waspissed.

None of the Ivanov men were used to hearing the wordno.

I took a step back, my bare feet slipping slightly on the slick tile, but he followed. Heat radiated from his body, hotter than the steam, hotter than the bath, chasing me back, forcing me to retreat until I hit the wall.

The cool marble bit into my skin, sending a shock through my body and before I could move, before I could slip away, Kostya was there.

His hands pressed against the wall beside my head, caging me in. His body loomed over mine, all tattooed muscle and dominance, his bare chest damp from the mist curling in the air, his pupils blown wide.

I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

The sharp scent of vanilla and jasmine filled my nose, cloying now, overpowering. The steam clung to my skin, and I was too warm, too aware of the heat pulsing between us. My pulse roared in my ears, every survival instinct screaming at me to run, to fight, to do something.

But I was trapped.

And the worst part?

Beneath the panic, beneath the sharp, animal terror flooding my veins.

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