The lamp on the side table. Crystal. Heavy. That's something.
"You said you don't touch merchandise." My voice comes out higher than I intend. "You said it's bad for business."
"I say what's convenient in the moment." He's following me now, matching my movements. "But seeing us here. Your fate already decided. No Ivan coming to stop us. No rescue happening." His smile is cold. "It gives me a desire I haven't felt in years. Decades, maybe."
We're circling each other now. Predator and prey. But I'm moving toward the lamp. Slowly. Carefully.
"Plus—" His tone shifts, becoming almost conversational. "—I heard our mutual pervert friend in Moscow likes hiswomen tested beforehand. Weird fetish if you ask me, but who am I to judge a paying customer?"
My hand finds the lamp. Cold crystal meets my palm.
"Rape me, and Ivan will skin you alive."
Dmitri stops moving and looks around the room. He makes a whole performance of it. Checking corners. Looking behind furniture. Even checking under the couch.
"Really?" He straightens up. "I don't see any Ivans here. Do you? Because I'm looking and looking ,but I just can't seem to find one."
Then he moves.
Fast.
I throw the lamp. It's heavy and should hit him. Should slow him down.
He dodges. The crystal explodes against the wall behind him. A thousand expensive pieces scatter across the carpet.
I reach for something else. Anything else. The champagne bottle. A chair. Anything heavy enough to matter.
But he's already here.
His hands grab my arms, fingers biting in hard enough to bruise. Pulling at the red lace that barely covers me.
I scratch at his face. His skin tears under my nails, seeping blood.
"That's it, printsessa. Fight me. Resist. Make it interesting." His breath is hot against my face. "Show me how challenging it is to take what doesn’t belong to me. Make me work for it."
I can't reach anything else or get leverage. His weight presses me back toward the wall.
This is happening. This is really happening. Ivan isn't coming. Nobody's coming. I'm?—
The door explodes.
Not opens. Not crashes. Explodes.
The wood splinters inward. The frame tears. The lock ripscompletely from the doorjamb. The entire door comes off its hinges and crashes to the floor.
Ivan stands in the doorway.
And he looks like death itself.
His eyes aren't blue anymore. They're black. Completely black. Like all the light has been swallowed by rage.
My chest releases all at once. Air floods my lungs so fast it hurts. Relief so intense my knees almost give out.
He's here. He came. He found me.
Ivan's gaze moves methodically across the scene, taking in everything, recording every detail.
Me pressed against the wall. Dmitri's hands on my arms. My split lip that I didn't even realize was bleeding until now. The bruises forming on my skin. The torn lingerie.
