She turned her head until her nose touched mine. “Well, if it’s my choice, then I’d rather you make me,” she said while staring straight in my eyes, while hers burned with the challenge.
Of course, she wouldn’t make this easier for us.
8
ISABELLA
Iscanned the cabin, looked for potential escape routes while pretending to just casually look around.
The interior was sparse, the windows small and high up, the heavy door locked by Zotov. Trees pressed close from all sides. The whole place felt like a cage of wood and wilderness. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, making it hard to focus.
Zotov moved around the small space with practiced efficiency—checking locks, securing windows, lighting gas lamps, all without ever fully turning his back to me. His movements were precise, economical. No wasted energy. The mark of someone who’d learned to survive by being hyperaware.
“Sit down. I need to check that head wound.” His voice cut through my thoughts, deep and strangely not very accented. I’d already noticed earlier that his accent was heavier when he was stressed and barking orders and almost undetectable when he was relaxed.
I remained standing by the entrance area to the room although I desperately wanted to lean against the wall for support or hold onto that support beam in the middle of the room, or just sit down like he told me to. But doing this would make it obvious how dizzy I felt, how weak.
He moved to the kitchen area, opened a cupboard, and crouched down.
The room tilted slightly when I moved my head too quickly to watch what he was doing.
Shit.
I focused on my breathing, slowly rotated my body, and watched as he returned with a first aid kit, which he placed on the table.
His eyes—cold and assessing—never left mine as he approached. “That wasn’t a request,” he said, stopping directly in front of me, his voice deep and husky—dangerous and seductive at the same time.
Seductive? Dangerous? What the hell? Maybe the knock on my head had a bigger impact than I thought. I lifted my chin defiantly, ignoring the way it made pain shoot through my temple. “Well, tough luck since I don’t really care if and what you’re requesting or not.”
Ivan stepped closer, using his height advantage to crowd my space. He leaned in until his nose touched my hair and inhaled deeply.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my body freezing in place. Something inside me—some primal instinct beyond logic—whispered that despite everything, he wouldn’t hurt me. That this man, who’d chased me through the woods, who’dtaken me captive, who worked for whoever wanted to use me against my family…wouldn’t cause me harm.
Stupido, Isabella.I berated myself for the thought. I had zero reason to trust this absurd feeling. Zero evidence that Ivan Zotov was anything but dangerous. I’d encountered men like him before—efficient, controlled, deadly. The fact that my body didn’t register him as an immediate threat meant nothing.
Zotov shifted his weight until I could almost feel his lips touching my ear. “We can do this the easy way, or I can make you. Your choice, Bella.”
A jolt ran through me at the nickname. Bella. Only my family and closest friends called me that. How did he know? I thought he believed I was Mirabella—that was what he’d told the person on the phone. But then it hit me—Bella could be short for either Isabella or Mirabella. He had no way of knowing that Mira absolutely hated being called anything but Mira. My sister had thrown actual tantrums over it since we were children.
My heart raced, partly from his proximity and partly from the confusion. His breath was warm against my skin, and I could smell his cologne—something expensive and subtle that made my thoughts scatter for a dangerous second.
Not that I could afford to show any weakness.
I turned my head until my nose touched his, our lips barely apart. “Well, if it’s my choice, then you will have to make me,” I said, staring straight into his eyes. “Because I will never willingly let you touch me.”
What the actual fuck was I saying? Why would I challenge him like that? The rational part of my brain screamed atme to back down, to stop antagonizing this dangerous man who’d already proven he could overpower me. I was injured, dizzy, and in no condition to fight him right now. Yet here I was, practically daring him to force me into compliance.
His ice-blue eyes darkened as he kept them locked with mine, something shifting in their depths that sent a different kind of shiver through me—one that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a dangerous attraction, a feeling I absolutely would not entertain. At all.
Before I could retract my words, Zotov circled his arms around my waist and lifted me as if I weighed nothing.
I barely had time to gasp before he carried me across the room, and my ass hit the wooden table.
“What the—” I started, but he just forced my legs apart, stepped between them, and trapped me in place with his body while he opened the first aid kit.
I leaned back.
He wrapped his hand around my throat and squeezed lightly.
