I snort. "Just a kidnapper who stalks women and keeps them prisoner in penthouses."
I see the muscle tick in the side of his jaw. "I'm protecting you."
"From what? From who?"
"From Sergei Volkov. And others who might want to do the same.” Ilya stands after a moment, walking past me to the window that overlooks a view of the city. “I’m not just a part of the Bratva, Mara. In Boston, Iamthe Bratva. I’m thepakhan.”
It takes me a moment to absorb that. “What… I don’t speak Russian. What does that mean?”
Ilya turns to face me. “I’m the leader. The boss. I inherited it from my father. And walking into the territory of a man like Sergei without invitation, buying property and remaining here for any length of time, puts him on guard. It can have consequences. And in this case, he decided that he wanted to use you to find out more about why I’m here.”
"Your interest in me." I swallow hard "Your obsession. Your stalking. That’s why you’re here. Not for his… whatever."
“He doesn’t know that. He wanted to find out.” Ilya pauses. “He’ll pay for coming after you. But from a purely detached standpoint, I would have done the same. That doesn’t mean I’ll forgive it.” He looks at me for a long moment. “But you’re under my protection now, Mara. I won’t allow anything to happen…”
"I don't want your protection!" I snap, my head spinning. I need a shower, and sleep. My clothes feel damp, clinging, the cold stickiness of his cum between my thighs no longer welcome in the slightest.The leader. The boss.I’ve been held captive not just by a gangster, not just by a criminal, but by amob boss. It’s so ridiculous it barely makes sense, but I can hear the words he’s saying, and I can tell he’s saying the truth.
"You don't have a choice!" Ilya snaps back, his eyes flinty, and then he draws in a breath and releases it, pausing as he clearly tries to calm himself. "Sergei won't stop, Mara. I haven’t left. Until I’m sure that he won’t continue to target you, I can’t just allow you to roam free…”
"Then eliminate him." I cross my arms, glaring at him. "If he's such a danger, if he's the reason I'm in danger, then deal with him. Don't use him as an excuse to keep me here."
Ilya sighs. "It's not that simple. Sergei has resources and connections. This is his territory. I have no right to be here, and there are… rules. Boundaries. I can't just kill him without starting a war that would destroy everything I've built. I need to ensure that he understands that this is not about him, that eventually I’ll leave, when I can take you with me…”
I stare at him. "So what are you saying? That I'm a target forever? That I can never go back to my life because you decided to become obsessed with me? That you’re just going to… take me to Boston eventually, and I have no say in the matter?"
The words come out sharp and accusing, and I see Ilya flinch.
"I'm saying that as long as you're connected to me, you're a target. And the only way to keep you safe is to keep you close. Under my protection. In my home."
"What are my options?" I clench my teeth, trying to think of a way out, how to get out of this impossible situation that Ilya’s obsession has trapped me in. "Really. What are my actual options here?"
Ilya lets out a long breath. "Your only option is me," he says finally. "I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe. I'll make sure Sergei and anyone else who might want to hurt you never gets close."
"I don't rely on men to protect me,” I snap. "I've never needed a man to keep me safe, and I'm not going to start now."
"This isn't about what you need or what you want. This is about reality." Ilya takes a step closer, and I want to flinch back, but I don’t. I hold my ground. "You're in danger, Mara. Real danger. The kind that doesn't care about your independence or your pride."
"And whose fault is that?" I hiss "Who made me a target? Who decided to stalk me and send me gifts and break into my apartment? Who made me visible to people like Sergei?"
“I did,” Ilya admits, his voice hoarse. "I did all of that. And I'd do it again."
"Why?" I shout the word, my eyes burning as if I’m about to cry, and I tell myself Iwon’t. I willnot. "Why me, Ilya? Why did you have to fixate on me? Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"
"Because I couldn't." His voice is a growl, low and passionate, and he takes another step toward me. “God fucking help me, Mara, I couldn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew you were meant to be mine. You are the only woman who ever could be."
I shake my head fiercely. "I don't understand you. I don't understand any of this."
"You do. You just don't want to admit it." He reaches for me, and I finally step back. If I let him touch me, I mightgive in again. "You felt it too, in Boston. That connection. That recognition. You knew, even then, that something was happening between us."
"What I felt in Boston was attraction. Chemistry. Not this—" I gesture around the room, at the penthouse, at the situation I’m trapped in. "Not kidnapping and stalking and being held prisoner."
"You're not a prisoner," Ilya argues.
I tip my chin up and glare at him. "Then let me leave."
The challenge hangs in the air between us. We both know he won't let me leave. We both know that despite everything I’m saying, despite my anger and fear and resentment, I’m his now.
"I can't," Ilya says quietly. "Not while Sergei is still a threat. Not while you're in danger."
