Page 55 of Beautifully Deranged

The car door slams shut, trapping me inside. He sits in the driver seat, absolutely seething. The veins in his forearms stand out.Hot.Not the time, Lola.

"You’re not doing shit for the Bratva. This isn’t up for discussion."

I cross my arms. "You can’t stop me."

"Can’t stop you?" His eyes pin me in place. "Sweetheart, I’ll chain you to my bed for all I care, until that silly little idea leaves your pretty head."

A thrill shoots down my spine, but I ignore it. "Try it."

"Don’t cross this boundary with me, Lola."

I deliberately invade his space until we’re so close I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. Nose to nose. "How about this? Is this crossing the boundary enough for you?"

His pupils blow wide.

"You think you can just bark out orders and the whole world falls to its knees?" I trace a finger along his collar. "That everyone bends just because Mikhail Volkov commands it?" A humorless laugh escapes me. "I don’t bend."

"I’ll make the whole fucking world kneel before you, so you have no choice but to stand beside me."

He has a way with words. I think he might break, grab me, slam his mouth over mine, punish me for my defiance the way I know he wants to.

"Why the fuck are you even doing this?" he bellows instead.

The answer is instant, screaming inside me.

To protect you.But my pride won’t let me say it. Instead, I shrug. "None of your business."

"Tell me."

I sigh, the lie slipping from my lips with ease. "I need the money."

He looks horrified, like the answer physically wounds him. "You need money? Lola, you can have everything—"

"Not yours," I cut him off. "My own. Mine alone."

"You’re not doing this."

He’s challenging me, and I never run away from a challenge. It triggers something ugly inside me. "We’ll see who gets the last say, Mikhail."

?Chapter twenty six?

Mikhail

My secretary drones on, flipping through papers, rattling off numbers, profits, deadlines, and logistics. None of it fucking matters right now. My mind's elsewhere, stuck on Lola.

She's my girl, no matter how much she fights it. She can lie to herself, tell herself whatever bullshit excuse she wants. But I know she doesn't need the money. But she’s still in it. Still doing this crime that has nothing to do with her. Why?

For me.Rage and warmth tangle up inside me. The warmth comes from knowing she’s a fucking wildfire. She burns for what she cares about. But the rage? That's because she doesn't get to sacrifice for me. Not her time. Not her safety. I sacrifice for her.

The secretary’s still talking, but I don’t care. "Clear my schedule," I cut her off.

"Sir?"

I shoot her a look, and she scrambles to obey. I never do this. I never just throw my schedule away. But this is Lola. And when it comes to her, there’s no fucking logic.

I find her in her studio, exactly where I knew she’d be. She’s lost in her work. And I know exactly what she’s working on. She doesn’t get to do it. I watch her for a minute, letting the silence hang in the air until she finally looks up. No surprise, though, she senses me like I'm an extension of her.

"I need you in the office," I tell her.

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