I don’t waste time thinking through my actions—or the consequences.
With one last glimpse of Michelangelo’s icy-blue eyes, I turn and run.
5
MIKO
I can taste Anika’s fear in the air as I race down the unfamiliar halls of Pyotr Novikov’s house, chasing the pale blond beauty who is astonishingly fast despite her petite size and the high heels she’s wearing.
Who in their right mind would wear heels to breakfast in their own house?
I don’t know, but Anika clearly knows how to move in them as she whips around another corner and bursts into the open foyer of the grandiose modern home, footsteps echoing across the hardwood.
In my shock at her unexpected attempt to flee, I let Pyotr’s bride get a good head start, and I’m paying for it now as I can barely keep her within sight.
But I don’t want to lose her.
God only knows what would happen to her if someone else got to her first. I might trust the Chiaroscuro men with my life, butaside from my adopted brothers, I wouldn’t trust a single other soul with hers right now. Not until the chaos has settled.
Still, she makes it through the front door and down the steps to the gravel drive before I’ve caught up with her.
“Anika, stop!” I call. It’s the first time I’ve said her name out loud, and even in my tense state, it sounds beautiful. Then again, everything about this woman is almost otherworldly.
She flinches at the sound of her name—an odd reaction—and only sprints harder.
But now that she’s not weaving around corners unexpectedly, it doesn’t take me long to reach her. Even if she’s a fast runner, she’s no match for me.
“Nooo!” A feral scream escapes her as my arm snakes around her waist, and I lift her off her feet, bringing us both to a stop.
But she’s not done trying to run.
Her heels flail dangerously toward my shins as she squirms, her arms windmilling in her desperation to break out of my grip.
She nearly succeeds, too, as the soft fabric of her dress slips beneath my hands, her body writhing and twisting until her feet find gravel once more.
She dips, spinning away from me in a sneaky, snakelike move. But despite the impressive fight she puts up, she’s no match for my strength. Before she can fully break free, I shift my grip, trapping her arms across her chest and pinning her to me. I hold her there, keeping her struggles tightly contained until her breath is spent.
With a final furious growl of defeat, she slumps against me. The sweet smell of cinnamon and rose rises from her, filling my nose as we breathe heavily together, her warmth seeping through my shirt.
“There’s no use fighting,Tesoro,” I state, relaxing my grip cautiously now that she’s stopped struggling. I turn her to face me, keeping a hold of her shoulders so I can meet her eyes.
Once again, I’m struck by how truly stunning Anika Novikov is.
She’s a classic Russian beauty—with pale blond hair that falls down to her shoulders in soft waves, smooth, delicate porcelain skin, high cheekbones that frame a straight button nose, and full red lips that are slightly parted to reveal the hint of a gap between her two front teeth.
Her sky-blue eyes hold a deep level of mistrust that I don’t remember being there the first time we met—a night I’ve never quite been able to shake from my mind, even if it was the only time I’ve spoken to her before now.
Then again, I did just kill her husband.
Can I blame her for distrusting me?
Fearing me, even?
But that doesn’t make her any less captivating than the first time we met.
She’s uncompromisingly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and while Anika wasn’t even on my mind when I chose to take over the Novikov headquarters, I can’t deny she might just be the single most valuable prize in the Bratva compound.
Claiming her will protect her from any of the other terrible fates that usually become of deadPakhans’wives.
