Chapter 4 - Izabel
The whole night, I hardly sleep.
It’s dawn now, and I can see the light creeping in through the locked window.
I’m sitting on the bed with my legs drawn up to my chest and my eyes on the closed door.
My eyes are so heavy and dry that they keep drifting closed.
I have dozed off a few times, my body snatching sleep here and there, but mostly I’m exhausted and fully aware of just how much danger I’m in.
But I can’t quite figure out which direction the danger is coming from.
Is it something to do with the Belovs? Or is this my brother’s twisted little plan to freak me out and try to scare me into coming home? The guy’s expression when I said my brother’s name was hard to read, but one thing is for sure—he has mafia written all over him.
He knows of my brother, even if he isn’t working for him.
Maybe Kayla spoke to Josiah and told him who I really am? Maybe he’s furious, and he orchestrated this? Surely not. Surely my friend wouldn’t allow that. But maybe she doesn’t know.
Again, I am stuck trying to figure out why I’m here and who is behind it.
By the time the sun is fully up, and the bedroom I’m hiding in is bright with daylight, I'm hyper and overtired.
And I’m ready to try and get this tall, dark, sexy as all hell stranger to slip up and give me something to work with.
The only thing I know for sure is that the sooner I get away from him and escape, the better. The longer he has me, the fewer my chances become!
Sitting up on the bed, I groan when I catch the dull scent of my own gym clothes. Fine. Maybe I should shower first.
I rummage through the closets. Mostly they’re empty, but in the far one near the wall, I find an assortment of brand-new sweatpants. I grab the pair closest to my size and march into the bathroom attached to my room.
The shower feels amazing. I should have done this last night, but I was too focused on guarding the door that didn’t even flicker open once. I could have had a good night’s rest. Fuck knows I needed it.
Now I’m hungry and grumpy and, even though I hate to admit it, I’m scared, too.
I scrub myself with the lavender shower soap, and when I climb out, I feel a million times better.
Awake, even. Slipping into the fresh pants, I leave my gym top off and just throw my favorite hoodie over my head.
It’s old and worn, but it’s sort of like a comfort blanket for me, so I can’t give it up.
Then I storm downstairs to confront my kidnapper.
The man is in the kitchen making coffee. I glance into the living room, and it looks like he slept on the sofa. He looks even more rugged this morning, with a darker shade of hair across his jaw and moody, mysterious eyes.
“So, did you come to your senses?” I say, walking boldly into the kitchen and tugging the fridge door open to find the milk.
“What senses might those be, darling?” he asks, sounding amused.
“Well, I imagine Josiah has given you some new orders, now that you know my brother won’t be pleased about this whole thing. So, have you decided where you are letting me go? Before my brother has you buried in a shallow grave?”
He scoffs, laughing at me. I sneer, annoyed. He says nothing and keeps making coffee as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. How can the threat of death not affect him?
“I see,” I huff. “So, then, it’s my brother behind all of this. He put you up to it, and he’s basically just messing with me,” I snap.
The man turns to look at me. The smile on his face is darkly tantalizing, and I have to force myself to focus and not get distracted by it.
“Do you always talk this much in the morning?” he asks, completely ignoring all of my prying questions. “Can’t you at least wait until the coffee has kicked in?”
“Are you always such an arrogant asshole?” I snap back at him. It’s so damn annoying how he doesn’t appear fazed by anything I say and is so damn good at just breezing over my questions. In the world I know, people are scared of Illyin. This guy should be, too. Surely, he knows who my brother is.
His casual coolness is…actually, it’s damn sexy. It’s hot that he hasn’t shown any fear or concern and is staying calm through everything. A man in control of himself. It’s kind of rare these days.
“Stop hogging the coffee machine and move over,” I huff, annoyed that I was staring at him too long and more annoyed that it was because I was perving on him.
He finds my outburst amusing, and a half-smile touches his face. His eyes glimmer with mischief as he slides over just a little, not quite giving me enough space, but still letting me close to the coffee machine.
I huff and make a point of letting him know I’m unimpressed by bumping into him continuously while I make my coffee.
“Be careful, darling, or I’ll end up spilling hot coffee over you,” he warns me when I bump him a little harder.
“No decent man on the planet would spill hot coffee over a girl on purpose, so don’t bother with your stupid games,” I snap.
He turns, and suddenly I’m frozen in place as he stands over me with those storm-gray eyes piercing right into my soul.
He sets his coffee cup down on the counter without taking his eyes off mine.
His masculine scent washes over me, like a forest after rainfall.
Pine and fresh, crisp air. He reaches up to wrap his hand around my jaw, and his voice is a low growl when he says, “I never claimed to be a decent man.”
His words shiver through me like a dark and delicious warning. My body spikes with desire in ways it should definitely not be spiking. The man is threatening me, and I’m going weak in the knees. What the hell is wrong with me?!
I tug my face away from his grip, and he laughs, a low, deep rumble.
Hurriedly, I finish making my coffee and storm out of the kitchen to escape him and to try to pull myself together.
Goodness me, but I have no idea what just came over me.
It’s never happened before. For a second, I thought I was in a movie or something, and the devilishly sexy man was going to lean down and kiss me, and…
I wanted it to happen! How freaking ridiculous our minds can be, playing silly games like that.
I need to make sure not to get close to him again.
He’s obviously dangerous and obviously not the man I want to be testing myself with.
I’ll mess with him until he gets me go, but I’ll do it from a distance.
I’ve not even finished my coffee or my thought when the guy comes to find me in the small upstairs library of his safe house. “Get up, we’re changing location,” he demands.
I perk up, instantly curious. “We’re leaving here?”
“I certainly don’t want to stay here. There aren’t even decent coffee beans,” he says.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Just get up, I don’t have all day. Let’s get going,” he says.
“Jeez, no need to be so rude about it, drill sergeant. You know, I don’t even know your name. You didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself,” I huff.
“I guess I like to remain mysterious,” he muses, his lips curling into that gorgeous smile again.
“Whatever, Ranger. That’s what I’m calling you from now on.”
“Ranger? I guess I can live with that. Come on, Pixie, let’s go,” he says, waving his hand around.
“Pixie?” I blurt out.
“Yes, tiny little pixie. Fierce but utterly defenseless,” he says dangerously.
“Pixies bite, you know. And they cause a lot of trouble for people. You shouldn’t underestimate a pixie!”
“Oh, I don’t plan to.”
We’re back in his car, and I’m on full alert, waiting for any opportunity that might arise for me to escape. At least we’re out of that Fort Knox lockdown place. Out here, it’s just one car door between me and freedom.
A car door that won’t open from the inside, but this man just has to make one mistake, and I’ll be gone.
“Don’t you have to stop for gas?” I ask, peering at his dashboard. He reaches out and pushes me back into my seat.
“Plenty of gas,” he says blandly.
“How far are we driving?” I ask.
“As far as we need to.” His curt reply annoys me.
When he pulls up at the airport, my throat is tight with stress. “I’m not going to Milwaukee,” I state, grabbing onto the car’s door handle, this time to stop him from being able to drag me out instead of trying to escape.
There is a massive private jet parked right in front of where we’ve stopped.
Ranger climbs out of the car and slams his door, walking around to mine.
I scramble over the seat and grab his door, kicking it open and spilling from the car. As soon as my feet are on the ground, I’m running.
But he’s fucking fast. Shockingly fast.
And in a flash, he has me flung over his shoulder and he’s carrying me like a sack of potatoes.
I scream, and he laughs as he climbs the steps to board the jet.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Radev, will you and your, um, guest be wanting refreshments for the flight?” an older man asks, nodding a polite greeting.
“Yes, some decent coffee, and you can bring us two burgers? I’m starving.”
“Radev?” I stammer, not meaning to say it out loud.
“What was that, Pixie?” he says, setting me down with a thump onto the large sofa-like seat. I try to stand up, but he pushes me back down, and in the blink of an eye, he's snapped a handcuff over my wrist.
“Anton Radev!” I blurt out, giving up on holding back my surprise.
“In the flesh,” he says, but I can see he’s not too pleased that I caught his real name.
“Now I know what’s going on!” I snap.
“And what is it that’s going on?” he asks, casually leaning over me to check that the cuff is on tight enough.
“You tried to kidnap my friend. You’re the Belovs' number-one enemy, and now that you can’t get to Kayla anymore, you think you can use me as leverage against Josiah! That’s your plan. To use me to negotiate something from Josiah,” I blurt out, knowing I’m right.
Except, when he laughs, I doubt myself.
He sits opposite me and lets his eyes drag slowly over me. I become very self-aware under his intense gaze and wrap my free arm around my stomach self-consciously.
“Actually, no. My plan is taking you back home, to my home, and make you my wife,” he says with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. I can see by the way his expression changes that he’s intrigued to see my reaction.
I try to speak, but the words trip up in my mouth.
“You’re, what, for how, excuse me, when?” I stammer knowing full well that I’m not making the least bit of sense.
That doesn’t make sense at all. Marry me? Why? What will that help? It won’t help anything! Why in the world would that be his plan?
He’s just studying me now. Maybe even savoring my shock. Anger quickly replaces all other emotions. The audacity of this man is too much to bear. I can’t believe he would even think of doing something so completely ridiculous.
A slow, dark smile touches his lips as his eyes half-close, studying me even closer.
The anger surges.
“What do you want!” I demand, glaring at him.
“You—as my wife,” he says casually.
“I’m not marrying you,” I scoff, half laughing, half shouting, still in total disbelief.
“Yes, actually, you will marry me, Izabel.”
“No, actually, I won’t marry you, Anton.”
His eyes flare. Something devilish and dangerous fires up in him. For a moment, I feel fear. Intense fear, wondering what this man is capable of just from the expression on his face.
But I refuse to back down. He can’t make me do this.
I’ve been battling against my brother’s control all my life, and I won’t escape that to be thrown straight into the control of this man!