Beautiful Beast (Perfectly Imperfect: Mafia Legacy #1)

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.

I follow her with my eyes as she dashes across the living room and up the stairs, then head back to my lounging spot. My bedroom is just above the terrace, so I have a clear view of the figure that steps onto the upper balcony five minutes later.

The breeze makes her hair float around her face as she leans over the railing, gaze focused on the fishing boats bobbing in the distance, and her bare toes peek out through the guardrail posts. Retrieving my glass of wine from the patio table, I shift further into the shadows, leaning on the stone wall at my back, and keep my eager eyes on my feisty Russian princess.

* * *

“What do you mean ‘she’s staying here’?” Guido gapes at me. “I thought you had our team shoot that video to pressure her not to reveal our identities to Petrov after we send her back.”

“That video is insurance. But for another purpose.” I lean back on the couch. “I offered her a job.”

“You offered a job to a woman you had kidnapped?”

“Yes. I offered her three million dollars for her services. She declined. Her exact words were: ‘Take your millions and shove them up your ass.’”

Guido sighs and sits on the recliner across from me. “Fucking Christ. What kind of services?”