Page 44 of Captured Obsession

I immediately call The Wolf.

“Little cub, I hope you bring me good news. Have the Armanis made progress on your whereabouts?” heasks in a flutter of Russian. In the background, I can hear music and cheers. He’s probably at one of his favorite clubs.

I hear his son, Mikhail, speaking, telling him to go into a private room. Although Mikhail should eventually inherit his father’s power, they’re two completely different types of men. The Wolf is eccentric, distasteful, and power hungry. His son, however, seems more calculating and conservative when it comes to using force. Though their dynamic feels obvious to me, I don’t think The Wolf realizes he’s being manipulated by his own son, and I wonder if some of this fascination with the Armanis is heeded by Mikhail’s advice.

The sound of the music is dampened, and I say, “Somewhat. They found one of your men in Manhattan. It's fair to say we won't be seeing him again.”

“The loss of one man is nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

If it’s not someone who’s a blood relative to The Wolf, they’re dispensable.

“He wants to set up a meeting.”

Hushed whispering commences on the other end of the line. This wasn’t what we were planning for. We were expecting them to use force, but as of now, they remain in New York. Unless, of course, it’s a decoy. But either way, I’m prepared. This will definitely end in bloodshed, and I’ve built quite the appetite after four months of flying under the radar.

However, the thought of releasing Sienna has myknuckles turning white as I fist my hands. I know it’s what’s best for her, that she’s safer away from me, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

“Very well. I’ll have a private meeting with him. You’re to return to me so we can speak in person. I'll give you your next orders then. Bring the woman with you.”

I hold in a snarl. Taking her to Russia and putting her in front of The Wolf will create an unpredictable situation. But if I show reluctance, it will turn his attention further toward her. I don’t particularly like not knowing what’s waiting ahead.

“Another thing,” he says. “I find it suspicious that you went to one of my properties today to torture the American woman, and somehow on the same day there's a power outage that can't be tracked to its source.”

“Yes, it was unfortunate. I was hopeful the Armanis would make a move so we could be done with this cat and mouse game. But you have so many enemies, it could have been anyone. But let me assure you, her punishment was still paid in full,” I say dryly, the lie rolling easily off my tongue. “You have men in place to work on these things. It’s your property. You told me I can use any of the properties on this island as I please. I’m not a tech guy.”

A monstrous laugh booms in my ear, and I can imagine his stomach jiggling with the action. “You bestwatch your tone when speaking to me. Have you forgotten your place, little cub? Bring her to me.”

I bristle at the threat his tone implies. It was the same when I worked for The Lion. I've never been great with direct orders, unless they serve my interest. And I do tire of overfed men, comfortable in their status, thinking they own me in any way.

But the only way to pry his curiosity away from Sienna is to get her safely back behind the Armanis’ protection. She’s a trivial pawn to him now, and I want it to remain that way. There are plenty of men who can replace me in this role, none of which I will let even close to her.

“I’ll set out on the jet immediately, boss.”

The line goes dead.

I grapple with multiple ideas, but they all end in the same conclusion: she’s safest with me until she’s handed over to the Armanis. The Wolf sees her as a transactional tool right now. He’s probably thinking how he can benefit from Luca calling instead of forcing his way in.

When I return to the bedroom, Sienna looks up, and her expression immediately drops. “What is it?”

“I need to organize a few things. Pack up your belongings. We're going to Russia.”

“Russia?” she questions.

“Armani has made contact, and my boss has called for our return,” I say matter-of-factly.

Panic twists her features, and I force myself not toreassure her, because she should be frightened. “But Russia…”

“Is unsafe. And you will do everything I say in order to ensure your safety. Pack your belongings. I'll be back to get you soon,” I say. And then I leave the room, carefully rebuilding the wall between us that she so easily demolished over the past weeks.

She is my captive, and I have to remember that.

If anyone sees that she’s become more than that to me, it’ll be a death sentence for both of us. But I can’t explain these things to her. I don’t have time, and she doesn’t deserve that burden. Because I will return her, as I promised from the start. She’ll go back to her life, as if none of this ever happened.

So why does her pained expression before I closed the door haunt me?

18

SIENNA