Now I wanted to melt again.
My lashes fluttered open, light kissing the edges of the room. “Hubby, I’m ready for round…”What round was it?
Light spilled over crumpled sheets as I slipped into Pop’s oversized necklace. I padded to the foot of the mattress, past my Converses when I called his name again. “Lachlan?”
Man, I expected that husky Scottish reply.
Silence.
Chewing my lip, I entered the bathroom. The mirror stopped me cold.
Oh, no, he didn’t.
Lachlan wrote over the mirror with lipstick.Mylipstick. The note read,
My lovely wife, I’m grabbing breakfast, maybe haggle someone to make a phone call. Sorry, no pens or pencils.
“Or utensils.” I shook my head.
I headed toward the bedroom, humming a tune and shoving into my jeans and shirt. I lifted my arm and sniffed. “Oh, lawd.” Then a quick breath check. Passable. Maybe a water rinse and bird bath?—
Creak.
Not the shuffle of Lachlan’s Nikes.
Heavy. Purposeful. The sound iced my blood.
I scanned the room. No Lachlan. No weapons—unless you counted the makeshift clothes rack in the corner. Not even a wire hanger to stab someone with.
He stepped into view, big enough to block the doorway.
My throat closed. The tears came hot, uninvited—not because Lorenzo stood there. He didn’t.
The last granule of time sifted through my fingers. “You’re w-with the Mikhailovs?”
“Da.” A simple nod. His gaze flicked to the mattress, his expression unreadable. “We will not disclosethis. Our secret,da?”
Mikhailovs clung to Russian traditions.Womenremained pure, especially those tied to the bratva elite. And they were infamous for killing the messenger who delivered bad news.
“I can’t go with you.” I placed a hand on my hip, hiding the tremor in my fingers. “Edik and I have an arrangement. We both agreed to marry for love! Touch me, you’ll start a war.”
“You misunderstand.” His voice was maddeningly calm. “It is your father who has initiated a war. Vassili breached the Resnov-Mikhailov agreement?—”
“You meanIbreached it. But women mean nothing, so my po—father is to blame?”Ugh, I couldn’t even use the affectionate name I had for Pop in front of this man. It would be another infraction against me. This group doubted I was Russian enough. Why did they want me?
“Natasha, Edik is here. Theyare allhere. I waited for the Scot to leave out of respect for your … affection for him. I saw it in your eyes when you climbed onto the bike he’d rigged.” The muscle in his jaw kicked. “Do not misconstrue my tolerance.”
This wasn’t happening. My heart slammed into my throat, choking my retort. “Don’t touch?—”
He moved like a shadow—sudden, silent, inescapable.
A crushing bear hug pinned my arms to my sides. “No! Stop!” My voice came out ragged. I kicked hard. Toes connected, but he didn’t even grunt. The orders behind his grip scared him more than I ever could.
My teeth sank into his shoulder. Salt and sweat filled my mouth. Without flinching, he hauled me to the window.
The freezing air slapped me as we hit the fire escape. My body pitched forward, the cement yawning below. For one breathless second, I thought he’d let me fall headfirst. Armscinched my waist, yanking me back in line. The man climbed down the ladder.
I screamed, thrashed, and pummeled his back with every bit of strength I had. Faces turned toward us. People watched.
