Page 50 of Claimed By Daddy

I’m halfway through tying the laces on my second shoe when Nikolai calls out from the couch, his tone leaning more toward curiosity than admonishment. “Where are you going?”

“The lobby,” I chirp, rising from my perch and walking toward the front door. “Enzo texted to say that he’s waiting.”

His brow furrows, and he shakes his head, grumbling, “You’re not supposed to go anywhere alone. You know that.”

I laugh softly and wave him off. “Don’t be silly. What could happen between the front door and the lobby?”

He leans forward, bracing his forearms on his knees and readying to stand. “I’ll go down with you.”

“Nik”—I flash him a grin—“it’s not like I’m going to get lost in the elevator.”

He follows me to the front door, accompanying me past Gunnar and Damon, and pushing the call button. While we wait for it to arrive, he sends a text to Enzo, the concern washing from his face when it dings in his hand. “Okay.” He sighs. “Enzo is double-parked out front and waiting for you in the lobby.”

I step into the cab when the elevator arrives, pressing the button for the lobby. My eyes flit between numbers ticking down above the door and my reflection in the mirrored walls, smoothing my hair and checking my appearance while anxiously waiting to get to Enzo.It’s crazy missing him this much… He’s only been gone since this morning.

The elevator dings, and when the doors slide open, I step out. I scan the lobby, but I don’t see even a hint of Enzo. My smile falters just a little as I wander past the reception desk and the small seating area beside it. I pull my phone out of my pocket and text him.

Where are you?

It buzzes immediately with his response.

Outside, princess.

I glance toward the glass doors at the street, a flicker of doubt aching in my gut.You’re being ridiculous, Eavan. Nik said he was double-parked. Not letting paranoia take hold, I step outside—just far enough to be on the top step of the building’s stoop, my arms wrapping around myself to fight the unexpected chill. I look left, then right.

No double-parked cars. No black G-Class. No Enzo.

I open my mouth to call for him, but hesitate when a chill rattles me to my core. “Eavan.” The voice behind me causes me to freeze. I turn slowly, swallowing, my heart in my throat. Standing a step behind me is a man with an immaculately trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and a thick scar slicing through his right cheek. It’s the face of a stranger, but when he opens his mouth again, I knowexactlywho he is. “We’ve been waiting for you, spitfire.”

Davit Sargsyan.

Hiseyes rake over me slowly, like he’s cataloging every inch of me for some sick mental inventory. I try to step away, but I hit something solid. Glancing over my shoulder, I find that I’m standing against a massive wall of a man. Two others approach from the passing crowd, boxing me in between the four of them.

I open my mouth to scream, but a gloved hand clamps over my mouth before a sound comes from me. He wraps his arm around my waist and yanks me from the ground. My feet kick out, flailing and landing against his shins, as he carries me across the sidewalk and toward an awaiting black SUV, the rear door already open. I scream as they shove me into the back seat, but my cries are muffled by the leather-gloved hand covering my mouth.

Davit doesn’t raise his voice—doesn’t rush. He merely watches patiently as they push me into the backseat and slide in after me. He climbs into the passenger’s seat, and the door slams shut in an echo of finality. The vehicle moves before I can orient myself—tires screeching as they pull from the curb.

“Let me go!” I scream, the glove falling from my lips and my limbs thrashing.

The man on my left swings an arm, and the back of his hand crashes against my cheekbone—my eye feeling like it’s going to explode from my face upon the impact. Davit turns from the front passenger seat to face me, his lips curled into a threatening smile. “I think it’s time to officially introduce myself, spitfire,” he announces. “Davit Sargsyan. And I will say, you are even more beautiful than your father let on.”

“I don’t care who you are.” I glare at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I try to calm my raging nerves. “Let me go.”

He extends a hand toward me—as though he expects civility after kidnapping me—one I refuse without hesitation. His smile drops, and he grouses with a sharpness in his tone, “I’m trying to be polite. Don’t make me show you a side of me that you don’t want to see.”

“What do you want?” I snap, my voice trembling even though I try to hide my fear. “My brother… Enzo… They won’t give you shit.”

“I don’t needanythingfrom them,” Davit informs, folding his hands in his lap like we’re in a boardroom instead of a moving prison cell. “You, spitfire, are what I want. And now you’re all mine.”

My stomach clenches, and I bite back, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckles, the darkness of the sound echoing around the tight confines of the SUV. “Still fucking feisty. I like that.”

“They will come for me,” I gruff, my voice low but shaking. As much as they promised, I can’t help but worry that they won’t be able to get me back. “They will kill you.”

“Doubtful,” he says with a shrug. “You’re coming with me. We’ll be on a private jet to Armenia by nightfall. Your brother and that Italian playboy you’ve grown so attached to will never find you.” His eyes hungrily roam over my body, eliciting a chill down my spine that rattles my bones, as he licks his lips.

“I’d rather die.” There isn’t a drop of dishonesty in my words. Death would be better than the life he has in mind for me—being a plaything for him… or worse.And without Enzo.

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