The Rusnaks are barbarians. Criminals. The kind of men you warn your daughters to avoid like poison.
So why did Dimitri say—
My pulse spikes. I don’t think. I just move.
I head toward the garage, heels tapping against the marble, each step sounding like the countdown of a clock I can’t slow. I’m leaving. I don’t care if it’s dramatic or rude or scandalous. I can’t breathe in there. I can’t think.
I reach the garage doors and—
“Running from something,krasavitsa?”
I spin around so fast my hair whips my cheek.
He’s there.
Dimitri stands a few feet away, one hand shoved lazily into his pocket, the other curled into a fist like he’s barely holding himself back from…something.
His presence hits me like a collision: tall, broad, impossibly composed. A storm disguised in a suit.
“You tricked me.”
The words spill from me—cracked, uneven, too raw.
For the first time tonight, I don’t care about poise. Or elegance. Or the Laurent name.
He did this.
He ruined me once.
And now he’s here to ruin me again.
“Tricked you?” he echoes, like the word amuses him. “No, sweetheart, I saved you.”
My stomach twists.
Saved me?
“I bought what was offered.” His voice is calm. Too calm. Mocking. “Don’t pretend you’re not used to being a transaction.”
My breath stops.
His words hit harder than any slap could—cutting right into the place I hide from the world. The place where my dignity still tries to breathe.
Before I even register the movement, my hand flies.
A sharp, instinctive reaction—rage exploding through my palm.
But he’s faster.
His fingers wrap around my wrist mid-air, firm but not painful, and he pulls me closer with a single effortless tug. My chest brushes his. My breath tangles with his.
His voice drops, a low, dangerous whisper against my skin.
“You can hit me, Laurent. You can hate me.”
His grip tightens just enough that I feel the strength he’s holding back.
“But you’ll still wear my ring.”
