When she realizes the door won't open, she rounds on me, her hands curled into fists. For a moment, I think she might actually try to hit me. Part of me almost wants her to, just to see if she has the courage.
"You have no right to do this," she says, her voice shaking with rage. "My father will?—"
"Your father will what?" I interrupt, my tone cold. "Start a war? He might. But first, he'll want to know you're alive. And safe."
"Safe?" She laughs bitterly. "I'm trapped in a car with a man I don't know, being taken to God knows where. That's not safe. That's kidnapping."
"Call it what you want. You're under my protection now."
"I don't want your protection!"
The SUV slows as we approach the gates of my estate. The property sits on five acres in an exclusive neighborhood, surrounded by high walls and state-of-the-art security. The main house is a modern masterpiece of glass and stone, all clean linesand expensive taste. I've lived here for ten years, and it's never felt like home. Just another fortress. Another place to defend.
The gates swing open, and we drive through. Alina presses her face to the window, taking in the manicured grounds, the fountain, the house itself. I see her calculating, looking for escape routes. Smart girl.
"This is your prison?" she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"This is your sanctuary. Whether you see it that way or not."
The SUV stops in front of the main entrance. My men are already positioned around the property. I can see them in the shadows, weapons ready. Alexei stands at the door, his face grim. He made it back before us since we took the long route home.
I open my door and step out, then move to Alina's side. When I open her door, she doesn't move.
"Get out," I say.
"No."
I don't have time for this. I reach in and grab her arm, pulling her from the vehicle. She fights me immediately—clawing at my hands, trying to twist away. Her nails rake across my wrist, drawing blood.
"Let go of me!" she screams. "Help! Someone help me!"
No one comes. My men know better. And even if they didn't, they wouldn't interfere. This is Bratva business. My business.
She's stronger than she looks, I'll give her that. She manages to land a kick to my shin that actually hurts. But I've been in more fights than I can count, against men twice her size and threetimes as vicious. A frightened girl in a wedding dress is hardly a challenge.
I lift her into my arms, ignoring her protests and the fists pounding against my chest. She's light, despite her height. Too light. When was the last time she ate?
"Put me down! Put me down right now!"
I carry her up the steps and through the front door. Alexei follows, closing the door behind us. The entrance hall is all marble and modern art, cold and impersonal. Like everything else in this house.
"Dimitri," Alexei says quietly. "We need to talk."
"Later. Get the doctor here. I want her checked for injuries."
"I don't need a doctor!" Alina shouts, still struggling in my arms. "I need you to let me go!"
I ignore her and head for the stairs. She's getting heavier—not because of her weight, but because she's fighting so hard. Her wedding dress catches on the banister, and I hear fabric tear. She doesn't seem to notice or care.
The guest bedroom is on the second floor, at the end of the east wing. It's one of the nicest rooms in the house with large windows overlooking the gardens, a king-sized bed with expensive linens, and an en-suite bathroom with a soaking tub. I've never had a guest use it before. I don't have guests.
I push open the door with my shoulder and carry her inside, setting her down on the bed. She immediately scrambles away from me, pressing herself against the headboard like a cornered animal.
"Stay away from me," she warns, her voice shaking.
I step back, giving her space. "The bathroom is through that door. There are clothes in the closet that should fit you. A maid will bring food shortly."
"I don't want food. I want to leave."
