Page 58 of Under His Control
Ivan’s gaze drags over me like sandpaper dipped in oil, slow and unpleasant.
“Your brother is not nearly as charming as you are, Taylor,” he says with a grin that makes my skin crawl. I’m taking another shower as soon as I get upstairs.
My spine stiffens. “Don’t talk about my brother.”
He chuckles, ignoring the bite in my voice. “He’s just business. But you…you’re a pleasant surprise.”
I’m officially nauseous.
Anatoly’s voice cuts through the awkward tension like a blade. “Ivan. Our meeting was scheduled for tomorrow. And not here.”
Ivan shrugs, all faux innocence. “A debt can be paid at any time. I’m just being efficient.”
“The funds will be ready tomorrow,” Anatoly says tightly. “Bank policy.”
Ivan doesn’t even pretend to look at him. His beady little eyes stay locked on me, assessing, like I’m a line item on a menu.
“I thought perhaps there could be another way to settle things. Something more fun.”
The insinuation is so filthy, it practically slithers across the marble. My stomach lurches before I spit out the words, “Absolutely not.”
Ivan’s disgusting grin widens. But he picked the wrong woman to make that comment to.
Anatoly steps forward, putting himself directly between me and Ivan. The air tenses. His body radiates pure, leashed violence, like a coiled spring waiting for an excuse to snap.
He towers over Ivan. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a lower octave.
Ivan’s guards move in, but Ivan raises his hand, ordering them to stand down.
“You’d be smart,” Anatoly says, each word perfectly measured, “not to make that suggestion again.”
Ivan chuckles weakly, shifting his weight, clearly becoming uncomfortable.
Anatoly goes on. “Because if you do, it will be the last deal you ever offer. To anyone.”
The grin leaves Ivan’s face entirely.
Anatoly steps back toward me, his hand drifting behind him, curling protectively around my hip without even looking. A silent claim, as if to say:Mine. Off-limits.
Ivan’s hands lift in mock surrender. “I meant no offense.”
I speak. “But offense was taken.”
Ivan laughs, a deep, rumbling sound devoid of humor. “Feisty. I like it.”
Behind him, his goons stand ready.
Anatoly nods toward them. “If either of your men take one step toward her, I’ll personally make sure they leave in body bags.”
Ivan raises an eyebrow. “Threats?”
“No,” Anatoly says matter-of-factly. “Promises.”
CHAPTER 22
ANATOLY
There’s a certain calm that comes over me when violence hangs in the air—a quiet, bone-chilling certainty.
