Chapter 10
Roman
She licks her lips. “You cannot keep me in this room like a prisoner.”
“You are not a prisoner, Zoya,” I reply. “But until you learn that you are not going anywhere, you will stay in this room. Breakfast will be up shortly.”
There is a sharp rap on the door, and I turn to open it. The housekeeper wheels in a cart laden down with breakfast foods of all kinds. She leaves it by the table and collects the plate from last night before leaving without a word. I close the door and gesture to Zoya to sit.
“No.” She crosses her arms defiantly.
“You aren’t hungry?”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” she says, daring me to challenge her.
“Well, that is just silly. It is the most important meal of the day.”
“I usually have a smoothie,” she capitulates at my admonishment. “Before the gym.”
“Today you will eat properly. You may still attend the gym. There is one downstairs. Andrei will accompany you.”
She hisses at the mention of Andrei.
I narrow my eyes. “You have taken offence to my assistant?”
“I have taken offence to you.”
“Sit, Zoya. Eat. Then you will get a reward.”
I’m baiting her, pushing her to see how far it takes. I want her to eat. She wants to go to the gym.
“I am not a child,” she snaps, though her gaze drifts to the silver platter. The scent of food and fresh coffee fills the space between us, fighting a war against her stubbornness.
“Then stop whining and feed yourself.”
She pulls out the chair, the legs scraping harshly against the wood. She sits with a huff, grabbing a slice of melon. She bites into it with unnecessary violence. It is amusing how much rage she packs into such a small action.
I pour black coffee into a china cup and slide it across the table. “Protein, Zoya. Fruit is not enough.”
She glares but forks some scrambled eggs onto her plate. She eats quickly, efficiently, and angrily. She hates this. She hates needing me.
“Happy?” she asks, dropping the fork with a clatter.
“Ecstatic. Get changed for the gym.”
She swallows. “You’re really letting me go down there?”
“I keep my promises, Devochka. You ate, you get your reward.”
“You can’t keep bribing me.”
“This isn’t a bribe. It’s a compromise. You do what I want, I do what you want.”
She takes that in. There is no way she can argue with it, and even if she tried, I would shut her down faster than her next argument could form. I am a closer. It’s what I do. Trained in law, I have fought the High Court and won. If she thinks she can outmanoeuvre me, she is sadly mistaken.
“Andrei is waiting outside.” I stand, buttoning my jacket. “Don’t try to run, Zoya. The perimeter is electrified, and the dogs haven’t eaten yet.”
Her mouth drops open, trying to decide if I’m bluffing or not. I am. I don’t have dogs.
“You are joking,” she says loftily.
“About the dogs. Don’t test me on the rest.”
She doesn’t find it funny. Her jaw tightens.
It takes everything in me not to reach out and trace it with my thumb, to feel the pulse of her anger against my skin.
But I made a vow, and I keep what I swear.
I won’t take anything from her body unless she gives it.
Yesterday, in the car, I restrained her because I had to.
That wasn’t desire. This is. And desire is the line.
“Andrei is outside,” I repeat. “Don’t make me regret giving you an inch of freedom.”
I turn on my heel and exit the suite before she can throw the coffee cup at my head. The heavy door clicks shut, sealing her in. Andrei stands in the corridor, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back.
“Take her to the gym,” I instruct, keeping my voice low. “Stay inside the room with her. If she tries to access any exits, stop her, but if you lay a hand on her, I will remove it.”
He gulps. “Understood.”
I straighten my cuffs, the adrenaline of being near her slowly ebbing away, replaced by the cold, hard reality of the day ahead.
Nik Antonov is making moves in the city, trying to consolidate a power base that is crumbling beneath his feet.
He thinks he is fighting for territory. He has no idea that Mikhail and my father came to an agreement years ago to secure the queen.
I head towards my office, the silence of the hallway deafening to the chaos Zoya brings. She is a breath of fresh air in this mausoleum. I step into the sanctuary of my office, the heavy oak door sealing out the rest of the house.
Opening the top drawer, I pull out the file on the Antonov estate.
Assets, liabilities, and the one thing Nik wants most: the legacy.
He thinks he can bully the underworld into submission.
He forgets that in London, Russian power isn’t taken by shouting the loudest. It’s taken in silence, in shadows, and with precision.
Nik is walking into a trap, and I am the one holding the mechanism to snap his neck.
There is a rap at the door, and then it opens. Petr steps in.
“Did you find it?” I ask instantly.
Petr shakes his head. “No. She went through the office. Smashed the lock with a hammer, by the looks of it.”
“And it wasn’t there?”
Petr shakes his head. “I went through everything meticulously.”
“Does she have it?” I muse, sitting back in my chair and steepling my fingers.
“The better question is, does she know what she has if she does?”
“I would go out on a limb and say no. We need to search her bag. When she is in the gym with Andrei, check the wardrobe, top shelf behind the pillows. She is hiding something in her gym bag.”
“Consider it done.”
“Keep eyes on the house. I want to know the second Nik or his men turn up and what they make of the change of locks. If he blames her, I want to know the second he makes that assumption and what he thinks he will do about it.”
Petr slips out of the office, silent as a shadow.
I turn my attention to the bank of monitors on the wall.
The wardrobe door is open, cutting off the angle of the feed.
I frown. That is an oversight. Zoya is behind there, getting changed into gym wear.
I can see her elbow, the way she steps back to hang up the clothes she was wearing.
Then nothing. I frown. The seconds tick by, and then she steps back dressed in black yoga pants, a white sports bra and a white hoodie left unzipped.
She closes the wardrobe doors and breathes in deeply, her head bowed for several seconds before she regroups and moves to the bedroom door.
To my surprise, she knocks lightly on it instead of trying to barge her way out of the room, and Andrei opens it to lead her to the gym.
I turn away from the feed and open a file on my desk, but my mind isn’t on business. It’s on Zoya Antonova, and nothing will shift the growing obsession I have with needing to be near her.
So I give up trying.