"You're coming with me." It isn't a question. It's a statement delivered in that low voice that does something to my insides.
"Like hell I am." The words come out stronger than I feel.
One dark eyebrow arches. "I’m not asking.”
“And I’m not coming.”
“You witnessed something tonight. Something that puts you in considerable danger."
"From you."
"From many people. I'm actually the safest option available to you right now,malyshka."
"Go to hell. I'm not going anywhere with you. I'll scream."
"Not for long,” The warning in his voice sends fear spiraling through me. “Your choice, Holly. Walk out with me quietly, or I carry you. Either way, you're leaving this room with me."
My heart hammers against my ribs. I’m low on options. My phone is dead. There is no back door to escape through. And I’m three floors up. I briefly consider the bathroom but quickly realize no lock is going to stop a man his size.
I'm out of options.
"You don’t need to do this," I say. "I didn't see anything. I don't know anything. I'm nobody."
Something flickers in his eyes. "No. You're not nobody."
The way he says it sounds almost meaningful. But before I can process that thought, he moves.
And so I run.
It's a stupid and futile attempt, but my instinct takes over. I lunge for the door, my fingers just grazing the handle before his arm wraps around my waist and yanks me back against his body.
"No.” I scream, driving my elbow back into his ribs.
He grunts but doesn't release me. If anything, his grip tightens. I can feel every hard plane of his body pressed against my back and it’s all solid muscle and immovable strength.
"Let me go.” I kick backward, aiming for his shin.
I know self-defense. My parents were fanatical about me knowing how to protect myself.
My heel connects, but he just shifts his weight and lifts me off my feet entirely. I thrash in his arms, clawing at his forearm, but it's like fighting a granite statue.
"Stop." His voice is low in my ear, that slight accent curling around the word. "You're only going to hurt yourself."
"I'll hurt you first.”
I manage to sink my nails into his wrist, drawing blood. He hisses but spins me around, pressing me back against the wall. His body cages mine, one hand catching both my wrists and pinning them above my head.
We're nose to nose. Close enough that I can see flecks of silver in his eyes, can feel his breath on my lips.
"Fight me, if it makes you feel better,malyshka." His voice has dropped to a rough whisper. "But you won’t win. You need to accept that. Make peace with it. Because you’re coming with me."
I glare up at him, hating him. Hating that less than an hour ago I was fantasizing what he looked like beneath his suit.
Shame floods through me. Because even now my body is responding to the close proximity of him.
And I hate myself for it.
"Fuck you," I spit, but my voice comes out breathless.
