Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
ARMAN
I stare with interest as my captive makes her way into the room and I’m pleasantly surprised.
She is a natural beauty I’m not used to seeing. Long chestnut hair that hangs straight and yet gleams as the light catches it. Flawless skin and light brown eyes that sparkle against the flush of pink stinging her cheeks. Her lashes fan the flames and she is sucking on her luscious lips with nerves, her fingers clenching at her sides as she moves uncertainly into the room.
I allow my gaze to linger on her shapely hips, her waist narrow and trim, showing she’s a woman who takes care of herself.
I like that. In fact, I like what I see a lot because if nature crafted a masterpiece, I imagine Gabrielle Adams was the result.
“Miss Adams, please take a seat.”
I’m abrupt and businesslike as always and gesture to the opposite end of the table that gleams in the shadows of the last remaining rays of the sun.
She drops into the seat and I nod toward the water set in front of her.
“Drink, you will be dehydrated.”
She says nothing and yet as she grasps the crystal tumbler, she stares at it as if it’s a poisoned chalice and, as I take my seat, I say impatiently, “It’s just water. Drink it.”
I watch with a weird fascination as she wraps those lips around the glass and stares at me through curious eyes.
“Your life is in danger.”
The glass freezes against her lips as I come straight to the point.
“There is a Russian hitman who we believe is assigned to ending your life. You were removed for your own safety.”
She sets the glass down and I note the mist in her eyes as she struggles to understand what I just said.
I carry on.
“We believe it is connected to your mother, Marsha Steele.”
Her eyes widen and I don’t miss the hatred flare in her eyes as I mention that woman’s name.
“You will remain in my care until we have eliminated the threat to you and discover the reason.”
I lean forward and stare across the table, strangely loving how she cowers before me.
“Until then, welcome to your new home. You will have the full run of it and everything is provided that you will need. My security measures are impenetrable, and you can be assured no harm will come to you inside these walls.”
I lean back and add, “If you attempt to leave the safety of this house, you will be restrained. Let me make your situation crystal clear, Miss Adams. You have a huge target on your back and the man taking aim is the best in the business. Do as I say and you may live.”
I stop talking and wait for her reaction and as she sets the glass down, I notice the shake of her fingers and the tears sparkling in her eyes.
“You say this is because of my mother.”
Her voice is soft and her accent has an adorable southern edge to it.
“Marsha Steele.”
Even saying that woman’s name causes the bile to rise in my throat and I’m interested in the anger flashing in her eyes as she says angrily, “I haven’t seen my mother since I was five years old, Mr.–”
She raises her eyes and I smile. “Romanov. Arman Romanov.”
“Well, Mr. Romanov, if this assassin is coming after me, she wouldn’t give a fuck anyway, so whatever his plan is sucks like hell.”
I take a moment and then fix her with a dark glare and hiss, “Firstly, do not swear in my presence again. Ladies do not need to sound like truck drivers.”
Her eyes flash, but she says nothing as I continue. “Secondly, your mother’s feelings toward you have nothing to do with this and thirdly, whether his plan sucks, as you put it, is irrelevant. He is most certainly coming for you and knowing his line of work, I doubt it’s a welcome visit.”
When I finish, she says nothing and yet I can almost hear her mind working and then she shrugs .
“So, why does this concern you, Mr. Romanov, or may I call you Arman?”
“You may.”
For some reason, I like hearing my name on her lips and the fire in her eyes fascinates me. It’s at odds with her words because one thing’s for sure she is angry. Beautifully angry. Magnificent even and I wait for that anger to be heard because I am more than interested in hearing what this woman has to say.
“In answer to your question, Gabrielle–”
She raises her eyes and a small smile catches me off guard for a second. It’s almost as if she’s enjoying this, which intrigues me.
“My father was murdered, and I believe your mother knows more than she is letting on. The trail has led us to this point and my family is curious to learn what her involvement is.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She says with genuine sympathy, and I say nothing as she leans forward and fixes me with a sad expression.
“I never knew my father. I don’t even know his name. Some people say you can’t miss what you never had, but they are wrong.”
She blinks and the tears coat her lashes as she says softly, “All my life I imagined him as strong, kind and noble. A prince if you like. Someone who would be so amazing I would be the luckiest girl alive to call him my father. I imagined all the things we would do together. The happy childhood he would have created for me and the close bond we would share.”
She sighs so softly I want to capture it in my hand and lock it away because, for some reason, this fragile woman doesn’t deserve the shit that her life is in right now.
She stares at me with a mixture of pain and sympathy and whispers, “I hope your father was that man for you and if he was, you can take comfort knowing you have that memory forever. I really am sorry for your loss, Arman, and if my mother was involved, I will do everything I can to help you find the answers you seek.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t expecting her because Gabrielle Adams has done the unthinkable. She has commanded my attention, and she is the first woman I’ve met who has made me look twice.