"No. You didn't think." I step toward her, and I see her shrink back slightly. Good. "You know you're supposed to stay in your room unless I know where you are. And I couldn't know where you were, now could I?"
"You were gone for three days." There's a flash of defiance in her eyes. "I didn't know when you'd be back. I didn't know if you were coming back at all. I was just reading a novel. I just wanted something to do, somewhere to be that wasn't that room?—"
"I don't care what you wanted." The words are harsh, deliberately so. I need to shut this down. I need to reestablish the boundaries that have been blurring between us. No woman should make me feel the kind of fear I felt for a moment at the thought that she'd escaped or been stolen—especially notthiswoman. "You're a captive, Liesl. Not a guest. Not my—" I stop myself before I can finish that sentence. "You don't get to make decisions about where you go or what you do."
She stares at me, and I see hurt flash across her face before she masks it. "I understand."
"Do you?" I pull out my phone, sending a quick text to Viktor to let him know I've tracked her down. "Because it seems like you've forgotten your place here."
"My place." Her voice is quiet now, but there's an edge to it. "No, I haven't forgotten. Your captive. Your leverage. A complication."
"Exactly." I pocket my phone. "And complications need to be managed. Controlled."
"So control me, then." She crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at me. "Lock me back in that room. Take away the books, the walks, everything. Turn me back into what I was when I first got here—terrified and alone and waiting to die."
The words are a challenge, and we both know it. She's daring me to be the monster she's trying to convince herself I am. The monster I should be.
The monster I'm not sure I can be anymore. Not with her.
But I have to try. Everything is crumbling around me, and a large part of it is because of her.
"Fine," I say. "You're confined to your suite. No more walks. No more access to the rest of the mansion or the estate. Meals will be brought to you. You don't leave that room unless I personally escort you."
She flinches like I've struck her. "Andrei?—"
"That's not my name to you." I force the words out, each one like swallowing glass. "You call mesir, or you don't speak at all."
For a moment, I think she's going to cry. I see her eyes go bright, and see her throat work as she swallows. But she just nods once, stiffly, and moves toward the door.
I follow her, at a distance as I escort her back up to her room. When she walks inside, I force myself not to go in as well.
I know what might happen if I do. Instead, I shut the door hard, lock it, and stand there for a moment, my breathing heavy.
I can't handle seeing her wandering freely through my home, making herself comfortable, looking at me like I'm something other than what I am. The truth is that every time I see her, every time she smiles at me or touches me or looks at me, I feel my control slipping further.
I'm terrified of what I'm becoming when I'm around her.
This has to stop. I rub my hand over my face. Whatever was brewing between us has to be over. She's my captive, not my lover.
I have a war to win, and I can't keep sleeping with the enemy.
I stare at her door for another long moment, and then I pivot on my heel, and head down the hall toward my office, to try to focus on the war.
—
The reports are bad.
Volkov has been busy while I was gone. Three more of our shipments intercepted. Two of our warehouses burned. Five men dead, another seven injured. He's escalating, pushing harder, testing to see if I'll break.
And my own men are getting restless. I can see it in the way they look at me during the evening briefing, and hear it in the careful way they phrase their questions. They're wondering if this war is worth it. If a change in leadership would be better for them, if maybe Volkov is a stronger leader.
I address their concerns, laying out our counter-strategy and assigning new security protocols, making it clear that we're not backing down. That we're going to hit Volkov harder than he's hitting us. But I can feel their doubt. When the meeting ends, I dismiss them all except Viktor.
"The men are talking," he says once we're alone. It's not a question.
"Let them talk." I shuffle papers on the desk to have something to do with my hands. I know what's coming next, and my jaw clenches.
"They still feel you're distracted. That it's the girl's fault. That all of this has to do with her."
