Page 7 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
His lips pull again, faintly amused. “If that’s what I wanted to do, you wouldn’t be sitting here, now would you?”
A shiver moves down my spine, and I swallow hard.
The car slows as it turns down another street, bringing my attention back to the fact that he’s taking me somewhere.
He busies himself on his phone once again.
“Where are we going?”
But of course, he doesn’t answer.
Instead, the rest of the drive is silence, leaving too many opportunities for me to get lost in my head.
Even if he hasn’t done anything to hurt me yet, I can’t let it disarm me. If I were to do something stupid, I have no doubt he’d hit back even harder.
All the while, I watch the city moving by, my hands still faintly tremble, and every breath feels hard to come by.
A difficult thought lingers in the back of my mind, cutting in like a barb.
As much as I don’t want to believe it, I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of retaliation for what my brother had done. If somehow, some way, I’m paying for whatever crimes Wyatt committed when he was alive.
And if the man sitting beside me happens to know the Lukovs.
Chapter 2 - Mikhail
The Vegas heat is thick even after dark tonight, making me grateful for the air-conditioned office above the club.
The bass vibrates faintly through the floor, reminding me of the action happening out there. Everything is running smoothly with ample business, and our employees are doing everything they can to upsell.
Even while I run cash through the counter, making sure the numbers are where I want them, my focus isn’t entirely on operations. Not while knowing Maxim is back.
It’s been weeks since we first heard that he slipped out of lockup, as if he had keys all along, and yet we still haven’t found him. He’s somehow been giving us the runaround and driving me nothing short of insane.
I’ve had men out on the streets checking every dank corner and known Nikolaev warehouse for the asshole, yet we’ve come up with nothing. It isn’t like him to be this covert, but it seems we managed to scare him shitless after confronting him.
Somehow, he has become even greasier over time, and knowing he’s out there pisses me off.
I don’t want him to feel like he has won, and I certainly don’t need him reviving his ranks.
Roman knows, of course, but given how he’s enjoying taking care of the rugrat with Vic, I decided to take on the task myself. At least then, he can’t say I never did anything for him.
Even after recruiting help from my brothers—checking lists of Nikolaev associates, reviewing old surveillance footage, and anything else that might help—we still have nothing.
Knowing Maxim, he wouldn’t break out without a plan, and that means he has to be hiding somewhere. And whenever he inevitably resurfaces, I’ll be damned if he tries carving into our territory again.
But, of course, things can’t be straightforward. Not while my head is being pulled in a completely different direction.
I’ve been trying to forget her face and her name, but I can’t.
Lily.
Regardless of the two weeks that passed since we slept together, I can’t forget about her eyes, her body, and all the ways she surrendered to me. The way she looked at me, and had no idea of who or what I was.
She responded to me in ways that were so genuine and primal that I half believed she was made for me and made to be worshipped by me. That innocent look of hers vanished the moment I got her in the back of the vehicle, and even more so once we reached the penthouse.
Regardless of how many women I’ve had before her, nobody has compared, and annoyingly, I don’t think anyone else will.
Even seeing her in my mind makes me want to find her and finish what we started.
