Turning in the direction of that baritone, I come abreast of the broad male chest. I tilt my head up. And up. The light from inside the house has turned Rafael’s enormous form into a silhouette, and his face remains hidden by shadows.
“What do you need me to do?” I nearly sob.
His hands take hold of my waist, lifting me. I drop the phone, grabbing at his forearms and kicking my legs.
“Let go of me!”
Rafael ignores my protests, hoisting me higher until our faces are nearly aligned. His breath fans my skin while the woodsy aroma of cypress and citrusy notes of oranges tingle my nostrils. It’s the scent I smelled in the upstairs bedroom. His bedroom. A small shudder runs down my spine, but this time, it’s not from fear. His presence is so profound, I’m finding it hard to draw enough air into my lungs. He seems absolutely unperturbed by the possible consequences of his actions, and I don’t think he’s faking it. He actually doesn’t give a fuck, completely unconcerned about my father’s wrath.
“What do you want from me?” I ask again.
He pulls me a little closer. The way he casually holds me, a foot off the ground, is distressing. But in a ridiculously sensual sort of way.
“I want you to overhaul my digital security systems, Miss Petrova.”
Barely containing my laughter, I watch the expression on Vasilisa’s face change from confusion to absolute shock. You’d think I just asked her to kill someone for me.
“You kidnapped me so I could upgrade your firewalls?”
Did I? I’m not exactly sure. When I ordered my men to deliver the fucking hacker, I intended to torture the stupid dick for a bit as punishment for screwing around with my business, and then dispose of him. I never expected a slip-of-a-girl. One who gave my men a beatdown, then tried to slice open my throat. I think that’s the first time ever a woman has tried to kill me. And I find it hot as hell.
“Not just the firewalls. I want you to analyze the digital environment used by my company and then rewrite the security protocols for every IT system.”
Vasilisa’s eyes widen in pure astonishment. With the light at my back reflecting in her dark-as-night irises, those expressive orbs seem aglow. Between her fury and determination, this unpredictable woman has fire in her doe-like eyes. Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing her.
A soft, creamy complexion. Thin, arched eyebrows that frame those mesmerizing onyx eyes. Prominent cheekbones tapering gently to a narrow chin. Small, straight nose. And then, there’s her delectable pink mouth, with rosy, kissable lips. The lower one is slightly fuller than the upper, beckoning a man to pull it between his teeth. Every part of her facial features is perfect, so much so that the entire thing defies reality. The sight is simply unearthly, and it’s impossible to look away from her.
“That could take days,” she blurts out.
Yes, in theory. In reality, however, it will take as long as I want it to take. Vasilisa Petrova might be the most beautiful creature who has ever crossed my path, but for the first time in my life, I’m drawn to a woman because of more than just her looks.
She’s bold. Courageous. Feisty. But also kind of grumpy, in such an adorable way.
And I don’t intend to let her slip away from me.
I tilt my head and behold the strands of her silky hair that have fallen over her diamond-shaped face. Jet-black, just like the night sky overhead. The tendrils flutter on the breeze, partially obscuring my view of her slightly frantic eyes. I wish I could sweep the wisps behind her dainty ears, but my hands are occupied, wrapped around her slender waist.
“You’ll stay as long as it takes. Until you’re finished,” I say and blow a breath across her face, puffing away the glossy strands.
Vasilisa blinks, then furrows her eyebrows. She still has a hold of my forearms, but her grip has mercifully loosened, and I’m grateful since her nails were digging right into the cut she made last night.
“Why did you do that?” she mumbles.
“I like looking people in the eyes when I speak with them.”
Glass crunches under my shoes when I carry my prisoner over the shattered stemware, then slowly lower Vasilisa to the ground next to the guardrail edging the terrace. She tries to step aside, but I plant my palms on the railing at her back, caging her with my arms.
“A word of advice, Miss Petrova. Don’t test me. If you try to escape or contact anyone to let them know where you are, I’ll give the order to have your family executed. Not just your parents. Your brother and sister will be included in that. But, if you follow the rules, when your work here is complete, you’ll be free to go. Are we clear?”
Her body quivers, and I expect weeping to be not far behind. Instead, she juts out her chin and levels me with that stubborn gaze. Bravado, not tears, pours out of her. But as much as she tries to hide her fear, I can see the leashed alarm in her dark glossy depths.
“Why should I believe you? What guarantee is there that you’ll let me go after I fix your systems?”
“End goal. It’s why I’m trusting you not to run and letting you stay in a nice bedroom instead of keeping you tied up in the cellar for the duration of our deal.” I lean forward. “Do you want to go back to the basement?”
Those dark eyes narrow at me in disdain. “I hope you die a very slow and extremely painful death.”
“I’ll take that as a no. Good. Mutual trust is the foundation for all successful endeavors. We’ll start tomorrow evening, after I return from work.” I let my gaze slide down to her chest, eyeing the cleavage peeking out between the lapels of the man’s dress shirt she has on. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
“What? I thought it was your brother’s,” she bites out, eyes flashing in exasperation. “If I’d known— You know what . . . never mind. I’ll just go find him and ask if he has something I can borrow, if it bothers you that much.”
Rage surges inside me. Just a thought of her dressed in anything that belongs to another man, even my brother’s, makes my skin crawl. “No. You won’t be wearing Guido’s shit.”
“If I’m being held prisoner here, I need clothes!”
I guess she does. But I quite like how she looks in my shirt. “Feel free to help yourself to anything you want from my closet.”
Vasilisa leans back. “Not happening.”
She’s going to fall off the damn terrace. My hand slides to the small of her back, holding her steady. “Then, you’ll walk around naked.”
“Fuck you,” she says through her teeth. “Get your hand off me.”
Reluctantly, I pull away but allow my fingers to graze her arm in the process. “I look forward to doing business with you, Miss Petrova.”
“Well, the feeling is most definitely not mutual.” She steps around me and storms inside the house.
