Chapter 3 - Anton
At first, I thought it was just some random guy walking towards her in the parking lot, but when he got closer, I noticed a distinct mafia appearance to him.
I decided that it was one of Josiah’s guys, maybe even her bodyguard.
That was until they started arguing.
Even from where I was sitting in my car, it was obvious she didn’t want to go with the asshole, and it was obvious that he was determined to take her.
I wasn’t going to get involved so quickly, thinking it was better not to make myself known just yet, but when he put his hand on her, something inside me snapped, and I was storming towards them with purpose.
The possessive hunter inside me took over, and in a matter of seconds, I had the asshole on the ground.
Izabel just stood there, looking bewildered. She’s clearly not used to any kind of confrontation, being an innocent who has no idea about the mafia world, and this whole thing has her in shock.
I grab her hand. “Run, he won’t be down for long!”
I don’t know if I expected her to put up a fight with me as well, but she didn’t.
And now she’s running with me. In my mind, it’s a clear indicator that she wanted nothing to do with that guy and is happy to escape him.
I have no fucking idea who that guy was, though, and only considering it could be Josiah’s man would be naive. It could be one of his enemies. Perhaps they had the same idea I did—take the friend. Anger sears inside me. She’s mine. No one gets to take what belongs to me.
We reach my car, and I open the door and shove her inside.
“Come on, I’ll get you somewhere safe,” I tell her as I push her into the passenger seat.
She stammers something, but I don’t hear it as I slam the door and run to the driver’s side.
Izabel is staring at me in shock as I start the car, and the tires skid against the road when I take off at high speed.
She is pushed back in her seat by the force of my acceleration.
It seems to jolt her back into herself.
“Wait, where are we going?” she blurts out. “My car is right there. I can take my own car!”
“Just strap in, you’re not safe here.”
“I don’t know who you are!” she squeals, reaching for the door handle.
“Are you crazy!” I shout. "We’re going over fifty miles an hour and we’re about to hit the highway!”
“You can’t just take people like this!” she yells at me.
I realize she’s totally panicked by how quickly everything happened. Reaching out, I touch her arm. “Hey, it’s okay, that guy isn’t following us. I promise you, I’m taking you somewhere safe, okay?”
She stares at me, bewildered as my eyes dart from the road to her face.
“I promise you,” I tell her again to reassure her.
But in a flash, the fear and shock vanish from her eyes, replaced by defiance. “Stop this car right now!” she demands, even stomping her foot to emphasize her point.
I’m taken aback.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” she scoffs, laughing dangerously.
What the fuck? Is this some kind of game she’s playing to try and intimidate me.
I chuckle, shaking my head. I have to admit that I excepted a scared, helpless girl. This little firecracker is way better than a helpless little victim.
“And should I know who you are?” I muse, trying not to sound like I’m teasing her.
“Maybe not, but I assure you, you are going to regret not stopping when you find out!” she snaps.
Fuck, she’s hot. Feisty, bold, and not showing an ounce of fear.
“Well, we’re here, anyway, somewhere safe like I promised,” I smirk.
She folds her arms over her chest and continues to shoot daggers at me with those piercing honey-brown eyes. “Fine, then let me go!” she snaps.
“Sorry, darling, but no.”
I park the car underground at my Chicago safe house, and a thick steel security door slides closed behind us. She tries the door and finds it locked, not able to open it from the inside. In a rage, she tries to climb right over my lap to reach for my door handle.
Her tight little body, smelling like fresh sweat with a hint of sweet orange blossoms, comes crawling right onto my lap, and my cock stirs as I lift my hands in no effort to stop her.
My eyes drift over her as she maneuvers on all fours, tugging at the door. It springs open, and she falls forward with her ass arched upwards right in front of my face.
The itch I have to slap my hand across that perfect shape is astounding.
She squeals in fright, and I manage to catch her before she falls right out of the car and lands face-first on the cement garage floor.
“Get your hands off me!” she demands, turning to fight me and rubbing against my cock, which is now semi-hard.
She doesn’t notice, though, in her rage.
I let her go, and she climbs out, dusting herself off angrily and storming towards the heavy steel door. She starts pushing buttons on the panel on the wall.
“Error,” the system says. “Error. Error. Error,” each time she slams in the wrong code.
“What the fuck!” she yells, turning to face me again. “Open it right now!”
I lean against the side of the car, watching her search for a way out with one hand in my pocket and the other playing with a silver Zippo that I flick open and closed, a habit I developed when I was still in high school.
“I said let me go!” she demands again, stomping her foot.
“Sorry, darling. I can’t do that,” I say, pushing away from the car and slipping the Zippo back into my pocket. “You may as well come inside, because there’s no way out from this garage,” I smirk, letting my eyes dance over her again.
She huffs and folds her arms over her chest.
I leave the door leading into the house open behind me and hear her storming in after me. It’s a safe house. There is literally no way in or out without the code, and I am the only one with the code.
Izabel storms around the living room, trying every door and every window. She’s getting more and more frustrated. I watch her, then wander into the kitchen to get a beer, and come out to watch her again.
Holding up the beer I brought for her, I say, “Do you want one?”
“I don’t want a fucking beer, are you crazy? Let me go!”
She is adamant about this, but obviously, it isn’t going to happen.
The thing is that my entire plan got stripped to shreds earlier when that guy approached her.
I wasn’t supposed to take her until the end of the week.
The safe house isn’t even ready for her yet.
I mean, yes, it’s safe. But I was going to stock it a bit more.
It’s not the end of the world, though. I can make do. But my plans did go to hell.
What did she say in the car?
You have no idea who I am, do you?
Was she referring to her connections to the Belovs?
“Why don’t you sit down for a second,” I tell her, more of a command than a request.
She spins to face me and scoffs, a dark, bitter smile on her face. “Why don’t you go to hell?” she snaps back.
Oh, fuck, she’s so fucking sexy.
“What did you mean in the car?” I ask, ignoring her rudeness. Rather enjoying it, actually.
She turns to look at me with her eyes narrowed. Crinkles form at the corners, and her nose scrunches, too.
“When,” she huffs.
“Who are you?” I ask, sipping my beer. “Were you referring to your connections with the Belovs?”
She starts to laugh. “It’s a bit late to be asking now, isn’t it’s it?” She places her hands on her hips and throws me a challenging glare.
“Not really. It doesn’t change anything,” I tell her calmly.
“But you do know who I am, at least partially, because you know I am connected to the Belovs. Is that what this is about?”
“Mm,” I huff, standing up and walking towards her. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”
“It’s not Josiah you should be afraid of,” she warns me.
“Is that so?” I muse, standing over her. She’s much shorter than me, but her defiance makes her larger than life.
“Izabel Toloff.”
She watches my face as her name brings recognition to my expression.
“That’s right,” she muses. “And my brother, Illyin Toloff, is not going to be very pleased when he finds his one and only little sister missing. I assure you, he will tear the world apart to find me, and when he does, he will tear you apart.”
I clench my jaw to hide my full reaction. Shock.
Absolute and complete shock.
How the hell did Yaroslav not pick up on this vital piece of information? How the hell did he miss this?
“Ready to let me go yet?” she asks, sounding pleased with herself.
I study her face, her confidence. Drop dead gorgeous, that’s what she is.
You should let her go. You never banked on having two big players in the mafia world after you. You only planned for one—Josiah Belov. Now Illyin Toloff is going to be hunting you down as well. Just let her go.
Not a fucking chance. She’s mine, and the mere thought of letting her go sends an ache pulsing through me. No. It’s too late for that. Or it isn’t. I don’t care. I want her.
And the feistier she is, the more defiant she is, the more I want her.
“Sorry, darling, you’re staying.”
Her face flickers in the smallest moment of fear—just for a second, but it’s there. It brings me more satisfaction than I want to admit.
She presses her lips together, pouting, then spins away from me and storms out of the living room and up the stairs.
I’m sure she can find her own way to a room and make herself comfortable.
Sitting down on the sofa, I tilt my head back and down the last of my beer, then grab the one I took out for her and pop the lid off.
Fuck.
I really threw myself into the deep end here. And on top of the revelation of her true identity, I've had another revelation about myself.
This isn’t just about Belov anymore. This is now about her, about the way she has grabbed my attention, and how I can’t stop thinking about her. The past few days have made it more and more obvious. I want her, and I refuse to give that up.
Leaning back on the sofa, I groan. Yeah. I’m in a shit storm now. And she’s at the center of it.