Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“And Gregor—when this is done, you’re returning every penny.”
The second I stepped into the room, she was already moving. Pacing the small space like a caged tigress, tension rolling off her in waves.
Every one of her movements was sharp, defensive. Her muscles were coiled tight. She was a predator backed into a corner.
Zoya wanted to fight.
She’d changed into something practical and perfect for travel. Black jeans. A fitted sweater. Her hair pulled back. She looked ready for anything. A fifteen-hour flight or a fight to the death.
Her gaze snapped to mine the second I entered.
“Don’t,” she said. Her tone was low—a warning and a plea wrapped into one.
Zoya was pretending she didn’t want to fight. But she was spoiling for one. She didn’t even want to win. She wanted the fight itself. To claw and rage and lose.
She expected me to force her hand. To make the choice for her so she wouldn’t have to.
Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t in the habit of giving in to anyone’s desires, especially not when it came to something like this.
I swung the door shut behind me slowly. Casually. I took my time, revealing no emotion. No tells.
“Don’t do what?”
Something flashed in her eyes too quickly for me to catch. But her fists clenched at her sides, her shoulders squared, and her chin lifted in defiance.
“Don’t try to stop me. Don’t pretend you care. And don’t you dare feed me some line about how I could stay if I wanted to.”
I stepped forward, using my size to take up space. Crowding her. Suffocating her. I didn’t stop until I was close enough to see the emotions she was so desperately trying to hide.
Or maybe she was trying to hide them from herself.
“I’m not here to stop you,” I said, my voice low and rough.
She stilled.
Froze. Like she couldn’t believe those words had just come out of my mouth.
I shrugged, slipping my hands into my pockets. “I’m driving you to the hangar. Gregor arranged the flight. You’re on our jet within the hour.”
Her breath caught. For the first time, uncertainty crept across her face.
She wanted a fight. She expected it.
That was exactly why I wouldn’t give her one.
She was prepared for the version of me I’d shown her over and over. The relentless, unforgiving tyrant who refused to let her go.
So that was the last thing I was going to be.
Instead, I pretended I was ready to let her walk away.
To her credit, she recovered quickly. She masked her hesitation with biting defiance.
“Good. Then let’s go.”
I didn’t move.
For a moment, neither did she. She stood there, eyes wide, staring up at me, so close I could feel her heat through our clothes.
Her fingers twitched. Like she wanted to throw something. Hit something. Hit me.
“I mean it, Roman. I’m leaving.”
She looked at me. Said my name. But she was really talking to herself, trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing.
There was nothing I could say to change her mind. Not with words. My little warrior was far too stubborn to be swayed by anyone. She had to come to the truth on her own.
“I know,” I said, keeping my voice calm.
Her eyes twitched. Her fingers remained curled into tight fists.
That wasn’t the response she expected. And deep down, it wasn’t the one she wanted.
She let out a sharp breath and turned away, bracing her hands on the dresser. “God, you’re such an asshole.”
My lips twitched, but I kept my expression neutral. “And yet, you still look like you’re waiting for me to stop you. Why is that, Zoya?”
She spun around, rage blazing in her eyes. She knew I was calling her out and she hated it. “I’m not. I don’t want you to stop me.”
I tilted my head, leaning in like I was going to kiss her.
God, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to taste that defiance. That sweet, bitter fury.
But not yet.
She flinched, but she didn’t pull away.
Instead, I traced my thumb across her lips, gently, deliberately. When I spoke again, my words were like a blade—silent, seductive destruction.
“I don’t give a damn about your bank accounts, your escape plan, or how many times you tell yourself you don’t belong here,” I murmured. “But don’t stand there and lie to me. Don’t pretend you don’t feel this. I know you do.”
Her breath hitched.
I smirked. “You want to run? Fine. Run. But don’t act like you’re not already mine.”
Her pulse pounded, the vein fluttering in her neck, her lips parting on a gasp.
“Screw you, Roman.”
My hands slid up to her jaw, fingers firm as I tilted her face toward mine.
“Give it a few hours,” I whispered darkly against her ear, her heartbeat jolting beneath my fingertips. “And you’ll wish you had.”
Her hands pressed against my chest. And for a second—a brief, fleeting second—I thought she was going to give in.