I don’t dignify her with a response. I don’t need to. She knows she’s overstepping. She knows the rules.
So she walks across my desk. Slow, deliberate. Heels click against the polished wood like a countdown.
“Mike,” she purrs, voice low, insistent. “We were meant to be together. I can stand beside you. That girl can’t! She’s too fragile. She’ll be a liability.”
I almost lose my temper. Almost.
She reaches out to touch my face, her fingers brushing my jawline, but I catch her wrist in a vise grip. Cold. Controlled. “You were convenient,” I tell her, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t confuse that with important.”
Her eyes flash—humiliation, anger, a sharpened edge of menace. She doesn’t back down. She leans slightly closer, whispering, “You think you’re untouchable, Mike, but everyone has a price. Everyone has a weakness.”
I tighten my hold, letting her feel the unyielding force behind it. “Leave. Now. Before this gets really worse for you.”
Tears prick the corners of her eyes immediately. She stammers, voice shaky, “I…I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. I love you…I know you…I’ve always been there.”
I don’t flinch. I don’t respond. I just drop her hand and grab the phone on my desk, punching in some numbers.
She leans forward, panic creeping in. “What are you doing?”
I still don’t respond. My eyes remain fixed on her, cold, unreadable.
Someone answers on the other line: “Yes, Boss.”
“Please come to the office. I need you to escort someone out.”
A pause. “Okay, Boss.”
I put the phone down.
Anya gasps, a sharp, incredulous sound. “You’ve crossed the line! You’re treating me like…like an animal! All because of a woman you haven’t even married!”
Her voice is rising now, shaking with indignation, but there’s no fear left, only fury.
“This isn’t over, Mike,” she spits, then storms toward the door.
She slams it so hard it reverberates through the office, shaking the polished floor beneath me. My teeth grit.
For a long moment, I sit there, breathing slowly, trying to regain my composure before I go see Ellie. I had Sergei call Raelyn, her best friend, to bring her over to talk. But that was hours ago. I’m sure Raelyn would have left. Konstantin can’t bear to have Raelyn out of his sight for too long.
By the time I reach the hall, Ellie’s suite door is open. I pause just outside, letting my eyes take in the scene. Raelyn is still there, standing behind her, hands lightly adjusting the fabric of the dress as they quietly talk.
Ellie stands rigid, framed in her white silk wedding dress. The light catches the dress, soft and elegant, but her posture is stiff, defensive. Raelyn’s voice floats from behind her. “It’s beautiful, Ellie. You look stunning.”
Ellie spins around, face flushed, fists clenched. “I hate it,” she snaps, voice sharp, filled with fury.
I let myself take it in—every line of tension in her body, every flicker of emotion in her eyes. My chest tightens. Protective, possessive, alive. The anger she radiates, the defiance, it’s intoxicating.
I step into the doorway, boots clicking softly against the floor. She freezes, eyes snapping toward me. That glare, her fiery, unbroken spirit, makes my pulse spike.
Raelyn turns, and when she sees me, she directs a pointed look in my direction before nodding at Ellie.
“I’ll go grab water,” she says, voice tight. She walks out, leaving us alone.
“You look beautiful,” I murmur, my voice low, as I let my eyes take in the silk, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the fire in her gaze.
She explodes. Words like venom spill from her lips. “You—kidnapper! You—you brought me here!”
I shrug, calm, almost teasing in the edge of it, masking my guilt at this situation we’ve found ourselves in. “I saved you, Ellie. And you’ve never once thanked me.”
