Page 42 of The Bratva's Forced Kidnapped Bride
“Where?” I asked when it was clear there was no arguing or cajoling him into staying put.
The hard look in his eyes wasn’t aimed at me for once. Something must have changed, and he no longer thought this desert compound was secure.
“I have a place in Mexico. It’s great. Near the beach, there’s a fantastic cantina in town…”
He was trying to sell it like it was some kind of tropical vacation, but for all I knew, he was taking me to my final resting place, making it all the more difficult for my family to figure out what happened to me when they never saw me again.
Perhaps the last few days, he’d only been lulling me into complacency. Now I was allowed to roam the house freely, with a guard hovering nearby at all times, of course. I could poke around the grounds, also under the watchful eyes of his remaining crew. And he’d even been pleasant this last week. Alarmingly pleasant, throwing me all the way off my game.
When Anatoli was being charming, all bets were off. His smiles were growing more frequent, but still knocked me back on my heels every time. The little, casual touches we shared while eating gave me shivers—a slight brush of his hand when he passed me the salt, or brushing a stray hair behind my ear as if he couldn’t help himself. We talked about everything andnothing, and I could listen to his stories about his wild youth for hours—for information gathering purposes, of course.
He came out to watch the sun go down with me a few times, and while I pretended to be engrossed in the colorful light show, I could feel his eyes on me, intent with the same longing that welled up in my veins no matter how I tried to suppress it.
And he could be kind of funny, damn it. I was a sucker for his acerbic wit, always catching me off guard. It took me a split second every time to realize he was joking under his stern exterior, and when he tried to imitate an overly exuberant TV announcer one evening, I was in stitches.
“You can talk just like them,” he had said when I settled down. “But I know you’re Russian. Any Russian would recognize you.”
It wasn’t a dig, but a compliment of sorts. I had worked my butt off to integrate and perfect my accent, and as much as I loved American culture and the warm, outgoing people, I wondered if I’d buried myself too deep. Now I knew I hadn’t, and it felt good. What came after that felt way too good.
Yes, I continued to sleep in his bed. There was no getting out of it when he was determined to keep me under his watchful gaze. If I kicked up a fuss, I might end up cuffed to the lonely bed in the locked guest room, and it was so much more fun to be cuffed to Anatoli’s with him in it. Why not enjoy the inevitable? If I played along, he stayed happy, and I avoided getting tortured.
Except, no matter how I tried to convince myself I was putting on an act, it didn’t feel that way anymore. I was honestly happy to see him, my heart skipping a beat when he stepped out onto the patio. Until he sprung the news of us leaving on me.
A new place. At first, it seemed the worst possible thing for me, and I was sure he’d see the flash of panic in my eyes. I started to argue, meaning to really dig in. After this week of practically feeling like a real married couple, would he sling me over his shoulder and force me to go to his Mexican hideaway?
Then I suddenly saw the opportunity waiting for me, one I should have jumped on right away if I weren’t so lost in the intensity of his stormy gray eyes. This could be my chance to escape. When we were in Russia, I’d been under the watch of his entire family as well as the armed guards that followed us wherever we went. Here I was surrounded by nature’s greatest death trap, so even after Anatoli got rid of the majority of his staff in his endeavor to shake off the disloyal ones, I didn’t dare try to escape.
A new place opened up so many new chances for me. Perhaps I could slip away on the road, or into the alleys of this cute little town he seemed to love so much. The few men he had left could easily be distracted or disabled if I had a firm plan to get away.
“I guess that sounds okay,” I said, faking a begrudging tone so he wouldn’t become suspicious.
The look of relief on his face was a surprise. Did he care about my feelings one way or another? I knew as well as he did that no amount of fuss would have changed his mind. If he thought this place was compromised, he most definitely would throw me over his shoulder and take me away. To protect me.
I had to think about that one again. No, it was more likely to protect his assets. I was still valuable, and for whatever reason, he still hadn’t enacted his revenge on me yet. I couldn’t let him ever get around to it. I had to start making a plan of escape.
Anatoli reached out his hand to me, nodding behind him toward the kitchen, which was lit up invitingly in the fast-gathering darkness sweeping over the desolate terrain.
“A new grocery delivery came this morning. You won’t believe it, but there’s fresh lobster for dinner.”
That smile. It was like a drug, filling me with warmth. Without a thought, I extended my hand, letting Anatoli entwine his fingers with mine, letting him lead me into the house. I didn’t really think he was surprised that we suddenly got lobster in our grocery delivery when I’d just told him the other day that it was one of my favorite foods.
“This isn’t my last meal, is it?” I joked, just to hear him laugh. How the hell was I no longer afraid of him? I should have been. Shouldn’t I?
His rich, deep chuckle rumbled up his throat, and his fingers tightened around mine, tugging me closer so our hips bumped together. I could just as easily start planning after dinner.
“How about a movie after?” he asked. “I can always have one of the guys throw your things together and bring them along after us.”
It was a sweet gesture. He must have been remembering my sour faces and grumbles when it was time to pack in Volgograd. What the hell was going on?
“Only if there’s wine,” I said.
“You know it,” he answered, pulling out a chair for me, the food already laid out on the table, and making my stomach growl with anticipation at the buttery smell.
As he helped me scoot my chair in, needlessly, but I still somehow liked it, his hand slid across my shoulder, giving me afresh round of goosebumps. I was still wearing my bikini, with the towel thrown over my shoulders, but this had nothing to do with being cold.
“I should get dressed really quick,” I said, half standing. His eyes raked over me, hot and possessive. Funny how that didn’t piss me off so much these days. My heart rate kicked up, flooding my skin with warmth everywhere his eyes roamed.
“Not on my account, I hope,” he said, but jumped up to grab a jacket hanging in the entryway for me, helping me shrug it on.
