Chapter Three

T he apartment wasn’t glamorous, but it would do. After locking the door, Saint flipped on a lamp and quickly swept the studio unit. There wasn’t much to it other than a daybed, table with two chairs, miniscule kitchen and a bathroom he’d barely be able to turn around in. But, at least it was a safe place to lay low until he and his team figured out the best way to use Mia Carlisle.

Speaking of which…

She stood there looking like a bright, beautiful light in a dark and depressing setting. He fought the urge to move closer, to bask in her warmth. Instead, he stood there, refusing to budge, and clenched his fists. What was it about her that drew him in and made him want to absorb whatever she seemed to be radiating?

Then it hit him, harder than a kick to the nuts.

She possessed an innocence, a goodness, that he forgot existed. All his life, he’d been surrounded by darkness, deception and death. He’d had to steal, cheat and kill to survive, especially as an orphan growing up on the cold streets of St. Petersburg. The kindness of strangers had been a rare luxury back then and, as he’d gotten older, he’d learned most people were just selfish assholes. Himself included.

“Now what?” she asked, studying him with eyes so blue, so pure and deep, he wanted to swim in them. To lose himself in that clear, cerulean abyss and be cleansed of all his sins.

“Now you go to sleep.” He nodded to the daybed.

“I’m not tired.”

“Pretend to be.”

She crossed her arms, lifting her breasts, and his gaze automatically dipped. Not his fault, though. She’d pushed them up, testing the limits of her dress’s neckline and putting that perfect set of tits on display. His fucking mouth watered, nostrils flared. That red dress flattered her curves and sent Saint’s mind straight into the gutter.

Turning away, he sucked in a deep, steadying breath, needing his head to clear of any and all distraction, including the lust-filled thoughts currently poised front and center. Forcing himself to focus, he figured he should check in with Braxton, but it was late and he didn’t feel like getting his ass chewed out at the moment. The call could wait until morning.

“Can I pretend to get a drink of water instead?” she asked saucily.

“Yeah, whatever.”

She skirted around him, assaulting his senses with another sweet shot of vanilla, and opened the small fridge, leaning down to peer inside. Her pert ass, sheathed in red, lifted and wiggled slightly. Why she had to bend over and put her goods on display directly in his line of view, he didn’t know. But the end result was unavoidable. Fuck. Swallowing hard, he adjusted his dick, trying to ignore the pure shot of lust making it grow behind his zipper.

Speaking of shots, he could really use some vodka. He’d even settle for the cheap stuff.

“Want a water?” she asked, straightening up. Twisting the cap off hers, she took a drink and Saint couldn’t pry his eyes off her.

“Sure.” He cleared his throat and watched her bend over again to retrieve another bottle. An image of her bare ass filled his head. Lily-white, silky soft…and sporting his handprint. Head out of the fucking gutter, Saint, he chastised himself.

“Here you go.” She walked closer and, as she handed it over, their fingers brushed. The touch jolted him into awareness as it moved up his arm then sparked through his stomach and continued downward, making his dick throb.

Saint knew what lust felt like, but whatever this was felt like lust times a thousand. Like Mia was a live wire and he was holding on for dear life, getting the shit zapped out of him.

So let go, jackass.

Clenching his jaw, he opened the bottle and took a long swig, hoping it would help cool him off. No such luck. He needed a cigarette. Desperately. “Why don’t you go sit?” he suggested in a slightly-strained voice, nodding to the daybed again.

This time, she didn’t argue. He watched her kick off her heels, climb onto the bed and crawl across the mattress, seriously testing his self-control. Did she really have no idea how sexy she looked on her hands and knees, her ass hiked in the air, as she made her way to the headboard? Turning around, she scooted back, and he couldn’t miss her pink-polished toes. She had the smallest, daintiest feet he’d ever seen and he swallowed hard as all sorts of bad ideas filled his head. Every single one involved him joining her on that daybed.

Suppressing a growl, he reached into his pocket, pulled his pack of cigarettes out and swore under his breath. Only three left. How the hell was he going to survive an entire night with Goldilocks in that sexy, red dress with only three smokes? He’d have to space them out. Good thing he was no stranger to doing without.

“Is your name really Nik?” she asked.

He tucked a cigarette behind his ear, willing himself to hold out as long as possible, and stuffed the nearly empty pack back into his inner jacket pocket.

“Sure,” he responded.

“What kind of answer is that?” she asked, cocking her head.

“The only one you’re gonna get.”

“You’re very difficult,” she stated, eyeing him intently. Her gaze was focused and unwavering, and he felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“What do you care?”

“You’re not from here originally, are you? America, I mean.”

Saint plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and reached for his lighter. Well, that hadn’t lasted long. “I was born in Russia,” he murmured, lighting up. No point in lying.

“Really?” She leaned forward, appearing interested. “Do you speak Russian?”

“I speak a lot of languages and, yeah, Russian happens to be one.”

“Oh, please, don’t smoke in here,” she begged.

He could tell her to fuck off and, normally, he probably would have. But her next sentence changed his mind.

“It gives me a headache,” she added softly, touching her temple.

Well, hell, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to crack open a window. It was a little hot and stuffy in there, but he had a feeling that had more to do with his reaction to her than anything else.

Reaching over the sink, he lifted the window and aimed his exhales outside. “It’s my one joy in life. I refuse to give it up.”

“Well, that’s sad.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled.

“What about your girlfriend?” she asked with an innocent bat of her lashes.

“What?”

She locked eyes with him. “Eden?”

“Eden isn’t my girlfriend. She’s a happily married woman with a baby.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in the briefest hint of a smile but then disappeared almost as quickly. For a moment too long, they stared at each other. She had a direct way about her that he could appreciate.

“I know why you took me,” she said softly.

He inhaled deeply, searching for answers in her sky-blue eyes. Who was Mia Carlisle? Really? Because she certainly wasn’t what he’d expected. “You don’t know anything.”

“Because of my father, right? Chadwick Carlisle.”

Shit. Mia Carlisle was much smarter than he’d given her credit for being.

◆◆◆

Nik didn’t need to confirm or deny it, she saw the flash of recognition pass through his dark eyes. Intense eyes that were black as sin and swirling with secrets.

“Well, hate to burst your bubble, but my father only cares about two things in this warped world—power and money. Not the inconvenient daughter he never wanted.”

For a long moment, Nik didn’t say anything. Just leaned against the counter and smoked. Then he shook his head. “Nice try. I’ve never met a bigger daddy’s girl.”

His comment took Mia completely by surprise and she burst out laughing. “Believe what you want, but don’t be surprised when he doesn’t pay your ransom or cave to whatever demands you may have.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, you’ll see. When you call him up and say you have me, he’ll probably say ‘who?’ Because he has a tendency to forget I exist.”

She had no idea what it was about this man that made her bold and slightly reckless. Even though she should probably fear him, Nik only managed to make her feel seen. Plus, she’d definitely felt some kind of connection at the bar—enough to go look for him after he’d left. She’d spent the past twenty-four years feeling unseen, so having Nik’s attention was kind of nice. Refreshing, actually. She didn’t feel quiet or shy, and she hadn’t let him bulldoze over her. In fact, he riled her up like no one else. Sitting up a little taller on the bed, it occurred to her that the most dominant man she’d ever met had made her feel strong, not like a pushover.

It didn’t make any logical sense, but Nik made her feel empowered. Maybe because when she spoke, he listened. And he didn’t just listen with his ears. He listened and responded with his entire body, turning toward her and focusing on her with an intensity that bordered on scary. Sure his responses were mostly sarcastic, sometimes even dismissive, but he didn’t go about his business like she wasn’t there. She had a feeling she was getting to him just as much as he was getting to her.

Nik finished the cigarette, stubbed it out in the sink and dropped the butt down the drain. Pushing off the counter, he moved closer, reminding her of a panther, all sleek, dark, and on the prowl, as he quickly closed the distance between them. “I have a feeling that you, Mia Carlisle, are the apple of your old man’s eye. That he will do anything if his only daughter’s life is threatened.”

His knees bumped the daybed and Mia looked up at him. “I wish,” she said simply.

He frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m not letting you go, so there’s no point in lying to me.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“Everyone lies. You’re no different.”

Mia shook her head then sighed. “Believe what you want.”

“You want to know what I believe?” he asked, reaching beneath his jacket for something. “I believe you’re far craftier and more intelligent than I gave you credit for, and the first chance you get, you’ll try and bolt.”

She didn’t deny it. He was right. If he thought she wouldn’t try to escape, he wasn’t very bright. The first opportunity that presented itself, she was out of there. And she didn’t care how attractive Nik was or how he made her feel.

The most important thing she needed to remember was he was her enemy, and she had no intention of underestimating him like he had her.

When he moved his hand back in view, she tensed. He was holding a pair of handcuffs. Before she could respond, he moved faster than the panther she’d compared him to. In two lightning-fast moves, he snapped one cuff around her left wrist then locked the other around the brass headboard.

“Hey!” She yanked her arm then speared him with an angry glare. “You’re such an asshole!”

“You got that right, Goldilocks.”

A sliver of fear crept through her when he lowered himself beside her on the bed, so close she felt his leg brush against hers. There was no doubt she was at his mercy. He could easily do whatever he wanted to her.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she said in a soft, pleading voice.

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “As long as you behave yourself, we won’t have a problem.”

“You won’t hurt me?”

Something flashed in his dark eyes. “No, Mia,” he said, his expression softening slightly. “I won’t hurt you. Not intentionally, anyway.”

She tried to relax, but his words weren’t exactly comforting. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Made the fatal mistake of underestimating him. Stupid girl, she scolded herself.

Now she was at the mercy of a man with eyes darker than midnight and, if she had to guess, a soul just as black.