Page 12 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss
“Then hunt me.” It’s a breath. I crawl out of the bed. My shoes have been removed, presumably by Voronov, but my dress and underwear are reassuringly in place. The door on the far side of the room calls to me. I wonder if I can trigger his chase instinct.
“If I can run, that will prove I’m capable. You can catch me and kiss me.” I back away across the room.
“Jenna.”
The authority in that word makes me stop.
“Out of that door is a corridor that runs around the entire house,” he says gruffly. “It’s a square. If you can make it back to this room without me catching you, then…” He heaves in breath and then sighs like it’s all the weight of the world. “Da. I’ll give you a first kiss toremember.”
I nod eagerly. I’ve never been chased before—or only in my dreams.
I’m not at my best and sharpest right now, courtesy of the presumed drugging. But I’ve been training. Putting in miles on the rickety treadmill of my building’s gym. I’ve read about chase and evasion techniques.
This is whatI want, what I always wanted and was too fearful to ask. I nearly lost all my chances at the first kiss of my dreams, and I’m getting a do-over.
But to earn it, I have to evade the Bratva kingpin’s grasp for one lap of his house.
“Don’t expect much head start, zayka,” he warns as he stalks across the room.
I throw open the door, revealing a long dimly-lit corridor stretching ahead of me.
“I’ll be playing to win and put you safely back into bed, innocent and untouched.”
I take another step away, my heart fluttering. Though I want him to catch me, I have to win this kiss.
The last thing I see before I turn is his pale eyes go dark.
“Nowrun.”
5
DIMITRI
I’ve read her posts. I’ve followed her and watched her laugh. Seen her glance over her shoulder, aware that someone is behind her but unable to see me in the shadows.
I know what she likes.
And yet, watching from afar has had to be enough. I never allowed myself to think I’d get to chase her.
I certainly didn’t imagine I’d be conflicted about whether I want to allow her to get away.
It’s that paradox that holds me motionless for long seconds as she spins on her heel and runs from me. I want to catch her, of course I do. I need to keep her safe from my ravenous desires and her own dubious decisions. But if I grab her as quickly as the beast inside me is tearing my chest apart to do, I won’t get to kiss her.
So it’s a delicate balance, attempting to give her a fair chance—give us a possibility of having that kiss—and also watching her for signs that she’s too vulnerable to be making genuine choices.
That dress seemed so sweet and demure last night, but the skirt flicks up as she runs, and her feet are sensual in a way I hadn’t imagined. So breakable.
She reaches the end of the corridor and disappears in a swish of fabric.
Then I’m running after her, intent on my prey but unclear on my aim. Just that I must be able to see her. The house is close to sixty yards, in a square around a courtyard. Far enough to test whether she is as well as she says she is. I accelerate, closing the distance between her and me.
I’m not used to sprints, or running with the distraction of a beautiful girl ahead of me and an erection tenting my trousers. I turn the corner, and there she is, ahead, and the relief is almost painful.
I must have her in my arms, and I need to be right behind her. If she stumbles, I want to be catching her before she can hit the ground.
She’s fast though. As she rounds the next corner of the corridor, she catches the wall with her hand to swing and glances over her shoulder, eyes widening as she takes me in.
I’m closer than she expects.
