Page 12 of Bound Vows
“Your decorator has interesting taste. Very ‘wealthy sociopath meets art collector.’” I gesture toward the paintings on the walls.“Though I have to ask, did you buy these, or are they part of your expanding collection of stolen property?”
“Purchased legitimately, though I understand your confusion. People in our business rarely acquire things through conventional means.” Andrei opens his laptop and begins typing, though his attention remains focused on me. “What did you think of the medical supplies?”
So much for subtlety. “You mean the pharmacy hidden behind your bathroom mirror? Either you’re very accident-prone, or you have trust issues with hospitals.”
“Both, actually. Emergency rooms ask uncomfortable questions when you arrive with specific injuries.” He closes the laptop and leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin with his knuckles. “I learned field medicine out of necessity.”
“Self-taught surgery seems like a dangerous hobby.”
The corner of his mouth lifts into the softest of smiles, and he replies, “Most of my hobbies are dangerous. It keeps life interesting.”
We stare at each other across the desk, and I realize this conversation feels like a chess game where neither player wants to reveal their strategy. Andrei knows I’ve been exploring his personal space, and I know he’s been watching my every move through his surveillance system.
“Are you going to feed me, or is starvation part of your negotiation tactics?” I ask, deciding to change the subject to something more immediate.
“Dinner is being prepared. I thought we could eat together and discuss the terms of our arrangement.”
“How romantic. Nothing says, ‘Let’s get married’ like discussing terms over a meal.”
“Romance is overrated,” he responds, waving me off. “Honest negotiation serves us both better.”
Under normal circumstances, this would be the perfect moment to deploy the kind of seductive manipulation that’s served me well in the past—lean forward, hike up my breasts, let my voice drop to a sultry whisper and make him think he’s charming information out of me while I extract everything I need to know about his operations. Something tells me that won’t work with a man like Andrei. He’d see through any performance. Worse, he’d probably be entertained by the attempt.
So, I follow as he leads me through another maze of hallways to a dining room that could host a small army. The table is set for two, with crystal glasses and silver flatware. Candles provide the only source of light, creating an intimate atmosphere that feels completely at odds with our circumstances.
“Wine?” Andrei asks, but he’s already pouring from a bottle I don’t recognize.
“Depends. Are you planning to drug me again?”
“Not tonight. I prefer my dinner companions to be conscious and capable of conversation.”
I accept the glass and sip cautiously, but only after he has taken a drink. The wine is excellent, which somehow makes everything worse. It’s easier to hate someone when they have terrible taste.
Dinner arrives in courses that could grace the menu of any five-star restaurant. I eat slowly, partly because the food is incredible but also because I’m trying to gauge Andrei’s moodand intentions. He seems relaxed, almost pleasant, which makes me more nervous than if he were openly threatening.
“Tell me about your family,” Andrei prompts during the main course.
“Which part? The part where they’re probably burning down half of New York looking for me, or the part where they’ll kill you very slowly when they find you?”
“The part where you learned to fight like you do. That level of skill doesn’t develop overnight.”
I carve into my steak, hold up the knife to inspect the blade, and answer, “My father believed his children should be able to protect themselves. I started training when I was eight.”
“With knives specifically?”
“With everything. Guns, knives, hand-to-hand combat, tactical driving, surveillance detection.” I put down the knife and take another sip of wine. “The works.”
“Your father was thorough.”
“My father was paranoid. He knew that wealth and power make you a target, so he made sure we could defend ourselves.”
“Smart man,” Andrei muses. “Though not smart enough to avoid making enemies.”
The comment hits where Andrei intended, and I slam my fork onto the table. “Is that what this is about? Proving that you’re smarter than he was?”
“This is about justice. Your father destroyed my family to expand his territory. I’m just returning the favor.”
“By forcing his daughter to marry you. That’s not justice, that’s revenge.”
