Chapter Six

IRINA VOLKOV

I set down my wine glass carefully, my hand shaking. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He knows me. Fuck he does. 

Who is he? One of Sergei's men? No....Damien has this power and money aura than Sergei's.

So who the fuck is he?

"Don't you?" Damien....no, not Damien, whoever the hell he really was, leaned back, completely relaxed. "Let me help you remember. Your name is Irina Volkov. You're twenty-four years old. You live in apartment 412 in Tekstilshchiki, though I suspect you won't be going back there. Your stepfather is Viktor Volkov, a gambling addict who transferred his debts to you before you ran away two years ago. Five hundred thousand dollars. You've been paying it off slowly by running romance scams. I'm your seventh target this year, though you had others before. Should I continue?"

Jesus christ!

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The room spun around me. 

He knew. He knew everything.

"How..." My voice came out as a whisper. "How long have you known?"

"From the beginning." His smile was cold, predatory. "I knew before you sent me that first message. In fact, I made sure you'd find my profile. You're good, Irina. I'll give you that. Very good. But I'm better."

"Who are you?" The question came out broken, desperate.

"My name is Nikolai Dragunov." He looked at me carefully, and whatever he saw on my face there made him smile wider. "I see you recognize it."

Fuckity, fuck fuck fuck.

I did recognize it. Everyone in Moscow who had even a passing knowledge of the underworld knew that name.

Nikolai Dragunov. The Winter King. Pakhan of the Dragunov Bratva, one of the most powerful criminal organizations in Russia.

I scammed a mafia boss. 

Irina, how can you be so careless? God, I'm so dead. Utterly, completely dead.

"Please," I whispered, and I hated how my voice shook. "Please, I'll give the money back. All of it. I'll ....."

"I don't want the money."

I looked at him, confusion cutting through her terror. "You... you don't?"

"Four hundred and sixty-three thousand dollars means nothing to me." Nikolai set down his own glass and turned to face me fully. "Do you know how much money I control? How much power? Four hundred thousand is what I spend on suits in a year. The money was never the point."

"Then... then what do you want?" But even as I asked, I knew. The way he looked at me. The way he'd been looking at me all night. 

Me.

The con artist.

"You." The word was simple. Final. "You interest me, Irina Volkov. You're intelligent. Resourceful. Fearless enough to con dangerous men. You've survived things that would have broken most people. And for three months, you've given me the most honest conversations I've had in years. Even though every word out of your mouth was a lie."

He leaned closer, and I found myself frozen, unable to move away.

"So here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay here. With me. You're not going to the airport. You're not going to Prague. You're not going anywhere."

"You can't..." I stood up abruptly, panic flooding my system. "You can't keep me here. That's....that's kidnapping!"

"Is it?" Nikolai stood as well, and suddenly the space between us felt very small. "You came here willingly. You took my money. You're in my home. Who exactly are you going to report this to? The police?" He laughed, a cold sound. "Half of them are on my payroll."

"Let me go." I tried to sound firm, commanding, but it came out as a plea. "Please. I'll disappear. You'll never hear from me again."

Yes, I promise. It's high time I repent. God, please, just let me escape.

"I know I won't. Because you're not leaving." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture oddly tender. "You took my money, malyshka. Now you belong to me."

"I don't belong to anyone." I jerked away from his touch, fury cutting through my fear. "I'm not some object you can own."

"No," he agreed. "You're much more interesting than an object. You're a puzzle. A challenge. And I haven't been challenged in a very long time."

I backed toward the elevator, my mind racing. I needed to get out. Needed to run. But Nikolai just watched me with those cold eyes, making no move to stop me. 

I reached the elevator and jabbed the button. Nothing happened.

I'm in trouble.

"It requires my keycard," Nikolai said calmly. "Or my fingerprint. This entire floor is locked down. The only way out is if I let you leave."

Son of a bitch.

"You bastard." The words tore out of me. "You set this whole thing up. From the beginning, this was a trap."

"Yes," he said simply. "Did you really think you could con me? That I wouldn't notice the inconsistencies in your story? That I wouldn't have you investigated? Irina, I've been hunting you since you scammed one of my associates six months ago. Creating the Damien Romanov profile was easy. Getting you to take the bait was even easier."

"So this was all..." I couldn't finish the sentence. The conversations. The late-night messages. The moment I'd felt a connection, something real. It had all been manipulation. He'd been playing me the entire time.

God, how did i not notice? What did i miss for me to make such a huge mistake like this?

"Not all of it." Nikolai moved closer, and this time when I backed up, I hit the wall. He placed one hand on either side of my head, caging me in. "The conversations were real. My interest in you is real. This..." His eyes dropped to my lips, then back up to my eyes. "This is very real."

"I hate you," I whispered.

"I know." He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile I'd seen from him. "But you'll get over it."

"How long are you planning to keep me here?" My voice shook with rage and fear in equal measure.

"As long as it takes."

"As long as it takes for what?"

His eyes softened slightly, and somehow that was more terrifying than his coldness had been. "For you to understand that you're safer with me than you've been in years. For you to realize that I'm not your enemy. For you to stop running."

"You're insane."

"Perhaps." He pushed away from the wall, giving me space to breathe. "But I'm also the only person who can protect you from Sergei's men. You think I didn't know they found your apartment yesterday? That they're looking for you right now?"

My blood ran cold. "How do you..."

"I know everything, Irina. I've known for months. I know about the debt. I know about Viktor. I know you're thirty-seven thousand short of paying it off. I know Sergei is losing patience. I know that if you try to run, he'll find you within a week and kill you."

He moved to the window, looking out at the glittering city. "But they can't touch you here. They can't even find you here. As long as you're with me, you're untouchable."

"So what, you're my savior now?" Bitterness laced every of my word. "My white knight?"

"No." He turned back to face me. "I'm many things, Irina, but a white knight isn't one of them. I'm a criminal. A murderer. I've done things that would give you nightmares. But I'm also the only person who can keep you alive."

"Why?" The question came out broken. "Why do you even care? If this is about the money..."

"It was never about the money." He crossed the space between us in three long strides. "It's about you. You fascinate me. You infuriate me. You made me feel something other than cold calculation for the first time in years. So no, I'm not letting you go. Not now. Maybe not ever."

I stared at him, this stranger who knew everything about me, who'd orchestrated this entire nightmare, who was simultaneously offering me protection and imprisonment.

"You're a monster," I said quietly.

"Yes." No denial. No justification. "But I'm your monster now."