chapter 3

ANA

He appears at the top of the stairs, stepping out of the shadows of the second floor. The gray T-shirt he’s wearing stretches across his chest, showing off the hard muscles beneath, and the black sweatpants hang just low enough to hint at the strong lines of his body. It should be illegal for a man like him to look this good. It’s almost comical, really, how the universe saw fit to give him both power and the body of a Greek god.

“Ana,” his deep voice cuts through my thoughts as he approaches, and I freeze on the stairs.

I take my time replying, dreading what this encounter will bring. “Yes?”

He’s standing just a few steps away, too close for comfort, and I can’t help but notice how the air seems heavier when he’s nearby. “Do you have a moment?”

It is a question, but it’s more of a command, really.

And what could we possibly have to talk about?

I shake my head. “No. And I doubt there’s anything we need to discuss unless it involves making my life more miserable.”

Without waiting for his response, I move around him and head up the stairs, trying to escape. I hear his footsteps behind me. I bolt to my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” I mutter, flopping onto my bed. My body feels like dead weight, drained from the day, fromthis—all of this. The migraine that’s been brewing at the edge of my skull throbs, and I rub my temples, trying to push away the exhaustion and frustration.

How the hell have I created this shit in my life? And how do I uncreate it?

There’s a knock on my door.

Seriously?

“Ana?” Dmitri’s voice is on the other side of the door. “I waited for you all evening. Why didn’t you call and tell me you’d be late?”

What now?

I sit up, frowning, disbelief etching across my face. He waited for me? That can’t be right. But before I can process the thought, he keeps talking.

“You should know better than to stay out late like that.”

I storm across the room and throw the door open, glaring up at him. “Why are you butting into my business?”

Dmitri’s eyes darken with annoyance. “Your business? Your safetyismy business. There are people out there who wouldn’t hesitate to use you to get to me.”

“And whose fault is that?” I snap, taking a step forward, fury bubbling inside me. “I didn’t ask to be included in your life, Dmitri. Before you, I never had to worry about being snatched up on the way home. So, don’t put that on me. If you think I’m at risk, find a way to protect me.Without me noticing.”

I turn to walk away, but his hand closes around my wrist, and before I can pull free, he yanks me into the hallway. His other hand presses against the wall beside my head, caging me in, his body towering over mine.

His eyes meet mine, and they burn with something intense, something I can’t name but feel in the pit of my stomach. It makes my pulse race.

“You like to play games, don’t you,kotyonok?” His voice is a rumble, washing over my skin like a warm shower at the end of a long day.

“Don’t call me that,” I spit, lifting my chin in defiance. “I’m not your kitten. I’m nothing to you but the girl you bullied into taking your last name.”

He lets out a dark laugh, the sound causing goosebumps to pop over my arms. His hand, large and warm, brushes over my cheek, and I hate that my body reacts, a flutter of something unwelcome blooming in my chest.

“Bullied?” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the edge of my lip. “I gave your father a choice. Marriage or death. He chose to give you to me rather than pay the price himself.”

The rage that fills me is sudden and blinding. How dare he speak about my father like that?

“So, what’s in it for you?” I hiss, glaring up at him. “What doyouget out of this?”

“Influence. Power. Revenge.” His smirk is cold, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

“My father is a better man than you’ll ever be.”

His smirk only deepens. “Is that why you bend the law for him?”

“None ofyourbusiness.”

“But it is,” he says, voice soft but menacing. “You’re mine now, Ana, and everything you do reflects on me. That’s why I want you to stop working.”

The words slam into me like a punch, and I blink, not sure I heard him right. “Youwhat?”

“You heard me. Quit your job.”

I laugh bitterly, stepping away from him, folding my arms. “You have some nerve. What’s next? Are you going to lock me in this mansion and parade me around like a trophy at your parties?”

He doesn’t flinch. “I might.”

I could burn a hole through his head with the look I give him. “I’m not quitting my job, Dmitri. Do your worst.”

“You will,” he says, his voice lowering, “or you’ll work for me. Exclusively.”

I stare at him, incredulous. His arrogance is truly astounding. He actually believes the world revolves around him.

Mirthless laughter bubbles out of me, and I shake my head. “You’re delusional, Dmitri. I’m Anastasia Petrov, and I don’t give a damn what you want. Go ahead and try to make me quit. I dare you.”

For a moment, he just stands there, staring at me like he’s assessing whether or not I’m serious. Then, without a word, he steps back. I take the opportunity to wrench open the door and slip back inside, slamming it behind me.

As I press my back against the door, the adrenaline starts to fade, and my heart pounds like I’ve just run a marathon.

“Holy mackerel,” I breathe, trying to steady myself.

I’m not usually one for confrontation, but there’s something about Dmitri that makes my blood boil. The words I hurled at him felt good. They weren’t rehearsed, they weren’t planned—they just came out, and in that moment, I felt powerful.

I smile to myself as I head for the bathroom. The image of Dmitri’s face when I stormed off is burned into my mind, and I know it’ll be a long time before he forgets it.

Feeling victorious, I soak in the bath, letting the tension drain from my body. But as I finally crawl into bed, Dmitri’s words from our first argument creep into my mind. His threat. His promise to make my father pay if I cross him.

If he ever touches my father, I’ll never forgive him.

And I’ll make sure Dmitri pays for it in ways he never sees coming.