Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
BIANCA
When I wake, it takes my sleepy brain a minute to remember where I am, and why I’m in a room I’ve never been in before. But within seconds, it all comes rushing back to me. I’m in the home of Daniil Kozlov. The man who won me last night.
Jeez.
A picture of his handsome face materializes in my mind.
A jaw cut from granite, piercing hazel eyes, more jade green than brown—except when he’s angry; then, they turn black like onyx.
He is striking, no question. Like a shape-shifter, he can go from arrogant and flirty to protective and savage in one breath.
And while he’s strangely compelling, I need to get away from him as fast as I can.
Sitting up, I find toiletries and a change of clothes folded neatly on a luxe gray lounge chair by the bed.
Thank god. I’m still in last night’s dress, my hair is a rat's nest, matted down by sweat and tears. There’s nothing I need more right now than a hot shower and fresh clothes. And to brush my teeth.
Rising, I cast a glance around the room.
It’s modern with clean lines. This place is no bachelor pad; it’s designer chic with a simple white palette and bold black-and-white photographs along the walls.
I honestly don’t know what to make of Daniil other than he has a serious hero complex, and the ladies must love his roguish charm.
His bravery was admirable, I suppose. Another woman may have even appreciated his efforts, just not me.
On top of the clothes and supplies, I find a note.
It’s from Daniil letting me know that a business matter called him away this morning, but he wouldn’t be long.
I hope this business has nothing to do with what happened last night.
It’s best for all if last night fades into a distant memory, never to be mentioned again.
A hot shower soothes my aching limbs and raw nerves. Bruises stain my arm from where Jorge took out his aggression on me.
Bile rises in my throat as I consider how my return to him will go. I hate Jorge with the power of a thousand suns, but I need him. I’m so close. So very close. And I’ll make sure that pendejo gets exactly what’s coming for him.
After my shower, I dress in the yoga pants and T-shirt that were left out for me and leave my damp hair down to dry naturally. My stomach rumbles, and I venture out of the room to find food and caffeine, something to rouse me after only a few hours of sleep.
“Good morning!” A petite blonde that, like me, appears to be in her early twenties stands in the middle of the kitchen holding up a carafe of coffee and a plate of croissants. “You must be hungry. Come sit. Don’t worry, I’m harmless. Mostly,” she adds with a wink.
She looks vaguely familiar, like someone I met recently, but I can’t place her. “I’m Bianca,” I say, sitting down at the breakfast bar.
“And I’m Kira, Daniil’s sister. My brother asked me to bring some clothes and food over for you.”
I gladly accept the cup of coffee she offers and help myself to a pastry. Leaning on the breakfast bar across from me, she flashes me such a wide friendly smile, she must have no clue what happened last night. She likely thinks I’m last night’s hookup, which is probably for the best.
“Thank you,” I say. “Do you know when Daniil will be back?”
Glancing at her watch, she purses her lips in thought. “Soon, I think.”
Impatience thrums beneath my skin, but I don’t want to be rude, so I force a smile and ask, “Were you at the casino opening last night?”
“Yes, although I left early. I was pretty wiped after working all day and dancing up a storm.”
I nod and take a sip of coffee. “What kind of work do you do?”
A small smile lifts her lips. “I help run the family business. You know what the Kozlovs do I imagine?”
“I have a vague idea,” I say, waving my hands in front of my face. “But I didn’t think women were really allowed to work in that world. The bratva, I mean.”
“It’s not common. But my circumstances are different.” She inclines her head, pausing for a moment. “My brothers are different from most vory. Made men in the Russian mafia,” she clarifies when my brows pull together.
“Interesting,” I mumble, unsure what to make of the Kozlovs.
She pours herself another cup of coffee. Carefully adding in sugar and milk before stirring for a while. “Aren’t you with Jorge Días? I saw you two together last night.”
Under the counter, my nails bite into my skin.
“Yes, we’re together.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
If Kira wonders what I’m doing sleeping in another man’s home, she doesn’t ask, but to be safe, I change the subject.
“So tell me what it was like growing up with three brothers. I imagine they were overprotective, no?”
A few heavy beats pass before she speaks. “I didn’t grow up with my brothers. I didn’t even know I had brothers until a year ago.” She chuckles at the surprised look on my face, but before she can say more, footsteps echo down the hall.
Daniil appears in the doorway, looking way too fresh for a guy who’d barely slept.
He was hot as sin dressed in a tux last night but dressed casually in a fitted white T-shirt and worn-in jeans is too much for me to handle this morning.
My attention is drawn to the expanse of his chest, the bulging muscles in his arms. He seems taller, more intimidating this morning.
Or maybe it’s that I’m not wearing heels.
“Good morning.” His voice is a deep rumble, and out of nowhere, my core clenches. Or maybe not out of nowhere. Didn’t I just spend a full minute ogling him?
Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s too busy wrapping his sister in a one-armed hug and laying a kiss on the side of her head. She playfully bats him away, as any little sister would do.
His attention slides towards me. “Bianca,” he says in acknowledgement. His deep baritone causes a little flutter in my belly. “How did you sleep?”
“Well. Thanks.” I stand and push away from the breakfast bar. Swooning over Daniil will get me nowhere. “We should probably leave soon. I need to get back to … my family.”
He nods but doesn’t look me in the eye. Kira collects her purse from the counter. Throwing it over her shoulder, she squeezes her brother's arm, and there’s an entire conversation in the look they share. Sibling stuff, I guess. I wouldn’t know. My sister didn’t live to see her teens.
Kira’s soft blue eyes flick my way. “Well, Bianca, it was nice meeting you. I hope our paths cross again.”
Daniil’s face looks tight as he shows his sister to the door.
I hear him tell her Yuri is waiting downstairs to drive her back home.
I wonder how it is that Kira didn’t grow up with her brothers, didn’t even know they existed.
But it’s none of my business, and frankly, there’s no reason for us to get to know each other any better.
As I place my dish and mug in the sink, Daniil reenters the kitchen. “Have you reached out to Jorge yet?” I ask.
His lips flatten, but he nods. “There’s been contact,” he says vaguely. “I’ll be going to Miami with you today.”
“Really?” I run a restless hand through my still damp hair. I thought Jorge would still be in New York sleeping off his hangover, but maybe he headed home early. “You don’t need to escort me, if you would just drop me at the airport—”
“I’m flying you over in our jet,” Daniil interrupts. He won’t look me in the eye, which I think is strange.
“What are you not telling me?” I ask, panic rising. Tension clouds the room, but his face remains stoic. “What’s going on? Is it because I'm going back to Jorge? We talked about this last night—”
“That’s not it,” he sighs. “We can discuss it during the flight. Give me ten minutes to pack.”
“Okay,” I say, a sense of foreboding rising like a fog. “We can talk on the plane.”
“We are cruising at an altitude of twenty-two thousand feet. We’ll be wheels-down in a little less than three hours, clear skies all the way.
Enjoy your flight, Mr. Kozlov, and please don’t hesitate to reach out to the crew for anything you may need.
We are stocked with all your favorite foods and beverages. ”
The copilot salutes us and returns to the cockpit. Beside me, Daniil’s face is cut from stone. He’s not said one word since we left his penthouse.
Following in the copilot’s footsteps is the overzealous flight attendant who has been circling Daniil from the moment we boarded the plane.
She looks like one of the Jenner sisters, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been his in-flight entertainment in the past, judging by the way she’s throwing him hot and heavy glances.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Kozlov?” she purrs. I don’t warrant a second look from her.
“Mineral water, please, for both of us.” And then he turns towards me. “Do you want anything else?”
I shake my head, and the Kendall look-alike saunters off, still eye-banging Daniil as she fetches our drinks.
“She seems friendly.”
Daniil’s lips tip up at the corner. “Sure. You can call it that.”
He drums his fingers on the armrests, his stare fixed straight ahead. God, I hope he hasn’t changed his mind. But that doesn’t make sense. We’re literally on the way back to my uncle’s compound.
I wait until our drinks are in front of us before I turn to him, preparing to ask what’s going on, but he beats me to it. “I’m not returning you to your uncle.”
“What?” My head snaps back. “What are you talking about?”
He wipes a hand down his face. Exhaustion finally catching up with him.
“Your uncle found out about what happened. I don’t know who told him, but someone did, and he reached out to Andrei.
The head of our family.” I hold my breath.
I know I will not like what he says next.
He looks at me for a long, long time. “He wants us to marry.”
The air whooshes from my lungs, my mind spinning in a million different directions. Marry! He wants me to marry Daniil!? When my brain finally catches up with my mouth, I slam my hands down on the armrests. “No. Just no. That makes no sense. He wants me to marry Jorge, not you.”
He scoffs. “The feeling is mutual, printsessa.” He takes a slow sip of his water, and when he puts his glass down on the tray, his eyes flick towards me, filled with contempt.
“Apparently I compromised your honor, and it would be a great insult to your family if I don’t put a ring on your finger.
” He cracks his neck. “Maybe your parents can intervene.”
“My parents are dead.” He flinches, but when he doesn’t respond, I fill in the gaps. “I was sixteen. It was a car accident that took my younger sister as well. My uncle has been my legal guardian ever since,” I add, the words coating my tongue in bitterness.
His eyes soften, and he gives me a look of pity that causes my stomach to clench. I fucking hate that look. But he surprises me by saying, “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve lost both of my parents as well.”
A normal person would say, “I’m sorry, too,” but the last thing we need right now is a pity party, and I don’t want to distract him from the point of this conversation. The point being—I can’t marry him.
So, I take a deep steadying breath, and attempt to think rationally.
“I’ll talk to my uncle when we get to Miami.
He thinks something happened between us, which obviously it did not.
” I shake my head, my words meant to soothe myself as much as Daniil.
“He much prefers me to be with Jorge, he just needs to calm down and listen to logic. It’ll be fine. ”
I hear how frantic I sound. Desperate. Because this will compromise everything, and I can’t allow that. I’m so close, just a few more months, I can taste it.
“Good luck,” he spits, “because we’re supposed to get married tomorrow.”
The water tumbles from my hand, soaking my pant leg, but I don’t bother cleaning myself up. “No, no, that won’t work.”
Tension lines his shoulders as he eyes me carefully, studying me as if I’m a puzzle to be solved.
“I’m not saying this is ideal for either of us, but why in the world would you want to marry Jorge? I may not be perfect, but I’m gonna guess I’m a hell of a lot better than that scum.”
“Maybe I love him,” I shoot back.
His face darkens, and his eyes lock with mine.
“No fucking way. I saw the hatred burning in your eyes. You don’t love him.
You don’t even like him. Your uncle wanted you to become his wife, and now …
guess what. Plans have changed. Never forget, printsessa, we’re both pawns in this underworld, and we just got played. ”
“He’s never hit me before,” I blurt. God, as if that makes it any better. I know it doesn’t, I know Jorge is an animal, and I’ll make sure he gets his. But right now, I need Daniil to be on my side. To fight against this marriage.
The sneer on his face turns ugly. “Like that makes it better? There’s always a first time but never a last. Men who do shit like that don’t change.”
“You don’t understand—” I start to clarify, then stop.
Why bother? I can’t explain myself to Daniil.
He can’t know the truth—it’s better if he believes I hate him and love another.
That I want nothing to do with him. Maybe he’ll even back out of this arrangement when he realizes what a total brat I can be.
Because the one thing I am sure of, I didn't suffer through years under my uncle’s roof just to walk away now.
Not when we’re so close. Not when I almost have what I need to avenge my family’s death.
So I use my words as a weapon. “You think you're so much better than Jorge?” I scoff and shake my head. “Despite your silky words and unchecked hero complex, you’re just another bloodthirsty mobster. Don’t fool yourself, Daniil.
Marrying Jorge or you … there’s no difference in my mind. ”
His eyes flash with a viciousness that he’s kept under wraps so far. But he doesn’t make a move, doesn’t move a muscle. He merely runs his tongue over his teeth and flicks his wary gaze out the window, dismissing me as if I hadn’t even spoken.