Page 165 of Made for Sinners

He didn’t answer right away.

I stood, facing him. “Seriously. What the hell is this? Your brother kidnaps me, dumps me in your house, and now what? I’m supposed to sip tea and wait for Dante to start World War III?”

“It’s complicated,” he said finally.

I crossed my arms. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

“No,” he said immediately. “You’re not a target.”

I raised a brow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“This wasn’t my idea,” he said again. “Aleksander… he’s reckless. He acts without thinking. I didn’t know he’d taken you until you were already here.”

I stared at him, waiting for the rest. For the part where he explained why I was still here. Why I hadn’t been returned the second he found out. Why I was standing barefoot in a stranger’s palace, my heart pounding like a war drum and my body still humming with adrenaline from the escape attempt.

“And yet,” I said, voice sharp, “here I am. Still locked in your house like a fucking souvenir.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not locked in.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I miss the part where I was allowed to leave? Because last I checked, I was climbing out a window.”

He exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate, like he was trying not to snap. “I didn’t know you’d try to run.”

“You kidnapped me,” I snapped. “What did you think I was going to do? Order room service and take a nap?”

His jaw ticked. “I told you—I didn’t kidnap you.”

“No,” I said, stepping closer, “you’re keeping me. Which is just as bad.”

He didn’t flinch. Just looked at me with those storm-cloud eyes, unreadable and cold. “I’m keeping you safe.”

I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “You Romanovs have a really twisted definition of safety.”

He didn’t respond. Just watched me, his expression unreadable.

I turned away, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. My heart was still racing, my palms still damp. I could feel the weight of the house pressing in around me—the ornate walls, the heavy curtains, the silence that wasn’t really silence at all.

It was a trap.

And I was the bait.

“Why now?” I asked, spinning to face him. “Why take me now? After everything? After Rocco? After the gala? What’s the point?”

He hesitated.

And that was all the answer I needed.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. “You’re trying to use me.”

“No,” he said quickly. “Not like that.”

“Then how?” I demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks a lot like leverage.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Aleksander thinks Dante is a threat. He’s trying to send a message.”

“By stealing his wife?” I said, incredulous. “That’s not a message. That’s a declaration of war.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m trying to fix it.”

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