He exhaled hard, like he was restraining a war. “The possibilities are endless.”
A shiver crawled up my spine. “I don’t have enemies though. Who would do this to me?”
“Don’t worry about that now. Pull over somewhere well-lit. Right now.”
“No!” My voice cracked. I cleared it and tried again, smoother. “No. What if they pull over too?” Was he nuts?
His silence was lethal. Then, “Natasha... princess… please.”
The “please” nearly made me cry harder. It wasn’t begging. It was a command wrapped in worry. Princess made this moment more personal. Intimate.
“I’ll stop when you’re here,” I whispered.
“I’m here now.”
My breath caught. “Where?”
I looked up, heart ramming my ribs as headlights flared in my mirror—this time a different car. Sleek black. Moving fast. Closing in.
Cori’s BMW. Dmitri must've been driving it. He whipped around me, pulling directly behind me, forcing the SUV behindme to brake so hard its tires screamed. Then it cut to the nearest side street and disappeared.
“Pull over,” he ordered.
This time, I did.
The moment my tires touched the curb, he was out of the BMW and at my door, ripping it open like he was ready to tear the world apart. He cupped my face, scanning every inch of me, chest rising like he couldn’t catch his breath. Then he relaxed a little before he said anything.
“Are you hurt?” He asked.
“No.” I swallowed.
“Bleeding?”
“No.”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He tugged me against him, one arm banding around my back, the other cradling the back of my head.
I didn’t mean to collapse into him—my body made that choice for me. His heartbeat hammered against my cheek. Furious. Alive. But then he pulled back just enough to tip my chin up. The streetlight lit his eyes in a way that made him look dangerous. Territorial.
“This is why you’re coming with me,” he said.
“What? No.” I jerked out of his hold. “Absolutely not.”
His nostrils flared. “Natasha?—”
“Don’t ‘Natasha’ me. I’m going home.”
“The hell you are.”
“It’s my life?—”
“And someone just tried to end it.”
The words hit like a punch.
