SHE'S VIKTOR ROMANOV'S.

A P

hick, suffocating

, warping. My limbs were heavy, as if I were sinking int

ppening?

nose-expensive cologne mixed wi

eaking in Russian. The words blurred together and

her?" a man asked, his

her quiet, but s

sted. Drugs. T

h tug on my wrist sent cold metal biting into my s

n, sealing me in this nightmare. My heartbeat pounded agai

red, slow and

The touch was rough, impersonal, like I was

ya." Bea

rled in my

horitative, cleared his

over the roo

mill

fened.

ev

en

this isn

, suffocating. I tried to speak, to scream, bu

fte

e. A s

th

ndr

drugged, I felt it. A ripple of unease passed t

spread lik

ndred million," the auction

gh the room. No one

slammed do

ng moved.

ey had given me. My bare feet scraped against the cold floor.

st the grip on my arm. A hand cla

a man hissed. D

ht har

smacked against something hard-metal. A car. Bef

gainst the door, pain jolting through my already

slammed

enc

hest rising and falling too fast. The air inside the c

n, I fe

presence that swallo

eed to see

here.

lic

old was ri

hed, blinking rapidly. My vision blurre

g of something rich-whiskey, danger, power. And acr

tor Rom

udying me. Like a predator sizin

ailored to perfection. His sharp cheekbones and strong jawline

eld the faintest ghost of a smirk

e most-icy blue, so pale they looked alm

e this breathtak

in a world of blood and violence. But then a

body ached. Even though I could still feel

int of amusement flashing acros

?" he murmured. Are

ard, my throa

give him the

N

d, resting his elbows on his knees, watching me like

hka," he murmur

"I want to leave." My voice

change. If anything,

olka," he said, voice silk

beneath his words. A

rply, my puls

me, tapping a gloved finger a

" he said, his voice terrifyingly

't ans

me to look at him. His touch was deceptively ligh

rstan

hed my

to h

le

aughed. L

chill straight

of his drink. "You'll find, kukolka, th

rward, speeding i

is was only t

whatever drug they had used on me. My body felt sluggis

The architecture was old, almost medieval, with towering stone walls t

r crawled do

ide me. I turned to find those ice-blue eyes w

"Potomu chto dazhe yesli ty poprobuyesh, tebe ne sb

curled in

he doors swung open. Hands grabbed me-rough, impatien

thrashing as I was dragg

d laug

?" One of the men sneered in Rus

oden doors swung open, revealing a grand but eerily empty hall

d me forward. The scent of aged wood and cold stone

slipped out befor

nse. No

act, I was shoved inside. My knees hit the

e darkness swallowed me whol