She gives me a look that says she knows I’m fucking with her. She doesn’t bite back. Smart girl.Instead, she storms out, wrapping her jacket tight around her body. I let her go.
Minutes later, the front door shuts, drawing my attention. I rise and jog upstairs.
Outside of the window overlooking the grounds, she moves with determination across the frosted ground. She’s an irritation and a fascination. She looks small against the endless white. The feminine curve of her spine. The sway of her hips under the jacket. The white puff of her breath.
Father hisses against my ear.
Don’t you see? She will run. She will betray you. She will destroy everything. Chain her.
I dig my fingers into my palms.
Leave me... The idea sets my blood on fire.
Micha steps into place beside her in the icy garden, calm as always.
They argue. He upsets her more. Micha doesn’t waver. He has the same unwavering loyalty he has shown me since he was seventeen.
Eventually, he steps away and allows her to walk alone, or so she thinks. She moves through the dead plants quickly. She studies every corner. Every pathway. Every door.
Yes. She is trying to escape.
She spots the side garage. Her pace quickens, as if she already knows the quickest route.
Clever, but predictable.
Just then, a maid hurries to my side, holding a small object and sheets. The white linens have red droplets.
The woman cries, “Sir! Look.”
I grunt. She dug out her microchip. Didn’t expect that. I turn to the two bodyguards near me. “Teach her what happens when she tries to run.”
They nod and sprint off.
I watch her for a few moments longer, assessing how far she gets and whether the fear will break her or strengthen her resolve. Then something glints at the edge of the long drive, far in the distance. A polished hood ornament. A snowfall of black armor steel.
A Rolls Royce.
Not mine. Not an ally.
My muscles stiffen. Ice crawls beneath my skin.
The emblem is familiar.
The Morozov Bratva.
A rival faction old and angry enough to enter my land without asking.
I step back and signal to every guard nearby. “Incoming. Alert the grounds. The Morozovs are here.”
Below, the guards reach Peighton, bursting from the garage entrance with guns aimed. She screams in surprise and juts her hands in the air like two white flags. She wobbles on uneven ground and her shoes slide, causing her to fall on her ass.
I laugh at her stupid reaction. Oh, she’ll be fun to toy with.
The guards approach, but—
They fall on their asses too, slipping on snow-covered ice.
“What in the hell is this circus nonsense?” I growl, disgusted.
