Page 21 of Hostage with Benefits'

His jaw tightened. “Don’t call me boss.”

“Would you prefer ‘kidnapper’? ‘Captor’? ‘He who abducts women from Trader Joe’s’?”

“Two can play this game, kukolka.” He smiled a wicked grin at me, then glanced at his bloody sleeve. “Can you really help with this?”

I sighed, gesturing toward the stairs. “Yeah, let’s go.”

In his ensuite bathroom, I made him sit on the edge of the tub while I examined the wound. It was a clean cut, about three inches long on his upper arm, not too deep but still bleeding steadily.

“What happened?” I asked, dampening a cloth.

“Disagreement.”

“With what? A knife?”

“With someone holding a knife,” he clarified, as if that made it better.

I pressed the cloth against the cut, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. He hissed through his teeth.

“Careful!”

“Don’t be such a baby. I thought you were a strong Russian man.”

Our eyes met in the mirror, his narrowed in irritation, mine bright with amusement.

“I hate doctors,” he admitted suddenly. “Hospitals. Needles.”

I paused. “The fearsome Mikhail Volkov is afraid of needles?”

“Not afraid,” he corrected quickly. “I just… dislike them.”

“Uh-huh.” I grinned, resuming my work. “Will you need me to hold your hand when you get shots at the doctor?”

“I need you to stop talking and fix my arm.”

I cleaned the wound thoroughly, taking perhaps a bit too much pleasure in his discomfort, before applying antiseptic and butterfly bandages. “You should probably get stitches.”

“This is fine.”

“Your call, tough guy.” I started packing up the supplies. “But don’t blame me if it scars.”

“One more won’t make a difference.” He rolled his shoulder experimentally, testing the bandage.

“You should be careful with what you say around Galina and Irina. They’ve been running a full-scale matchmaking campaign all day. Apparently, you’re quite the catch: rich, respected, cultured.”

He stared at me, expression unreadable. “They should mind their own business.”

“That’s not really their style, now is it?”

“What did you tell them?”

“That it’s generally frowned upon to date your kidnapper.”

He smiled for a second, looking at the ground, then he looked into my eyes again.

The air between us thickened. I was acutely aware of how smallthe bathroom was, how close he was sitting, and how his eyes had darkened to that dangerous blue that meant he was thinking things that would make it seem like Galina’s matchmaking efforts hadn’t been in vain.

“This is a terrible idea,” I said, even as I took a step closer.

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