Page 25 of Cruel Russian King
Seeing he was distracted, I tried once more to slip free. His arm clamped around my waist, pulling me flush against him, his erection pressing against my lower back.
Wait? Was Artyom attracted to me?
Are you not a hot, blooded female? Him having an erection doesn't mean he likes you.
I bit my lower lip and forced myself to listen to what Artyom was saying.
“There are two men here who seem very interested in you, printsessa. My guess? They're rivals.”
It was only then I realized that Artyom wasn't trying to be a controlling jerk, he was using his body as a shield.
“I was careful,” I stammered defensively, as my breathing increased. “They couldn’t have followed me. Which means they followed you.”
“It doesn’t matter who they followed. They weren’t looking at me, they had their eyes locked on you. If you’d stayed home like a good little wife…”
“I’ll never be a good little…” My protest was cut short by the crash of a silver platter and the shatter of glass.
Artyom didn’t even glance that way. His grip shifted, iron-tight on my arm, dragging me past the curtain. A gunappeared in his free hand as I stumbled to match his long strides.
“Konstantin, is Kolya here?” he whispered fiercely into the earpiece.
Our footsteps hurried across the wooden floor as he listened to Konstantin’s response.
“Is the alley clear?”
I looked back to see if anyone was following us as we slipped around the corner. I didn't catch sight of anyone.
“Can you access the cameras in the backrooms of the gallery? We’ll need a corner to sit tight until backup arrives.”
I heard men's voices filtering into the room and I knew Artyom heard them too as he quickened his pace.
“As soon as he gets here, let Kolya and his men move in to extract us. By force if necessary.”
Artyom turned us sharply to the left, testing the doors as we passed. The last one opened, it was a janitor’s closet. He turned the knob, we slipped inside and he locked it behind us.
Despite the cramped space, a window offered not only some light to the small dark space but a view of the two cars in the alley. I pressed my hands lightly to the sill, surveying the scene.
Before I could linger, Artyom spun me around, pressing my back against the wall. His hands settled on my hips, sending shock waves through my body as he hovered over me in the cluttered space.
His lips were inches from mine as he whispered, “Unless you want the men in the alley putting a bullet through your skull, that’s not a very smart move.”
“And us being cornered in a closet is?” I whispered angrily, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Until help arrives, yes…”
“I’m not a damsel in distress. Give me a gun and we can fight our way out.”
“We wouldn’t have to fight if you hadn’t snuck away from Ruslan.”
“Maybe if I wasn’t treated like a prisoner, I wouldn’t have to sneak away.”
“You’re not being treated like a prisoner, printsessa,” he growled. “If you were, you’d know.”
I rolled my eyes and pressed my lips together. “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”
His gaze darkened. He inched closer and a shiver ran down my spine.
“If you were my prisoner, you’d be handcuffed to my bed, and whipped into submission.” His hot whispers caressed my neck. “You are my wife…but pull another stunt like this again, and your title could change...”
