Cold Revenge

The news broke the headlines the following morning,

'Billionaire Tycoon Mikhail Volkov Seen with Ex-Wife: Are They Back together?'

'Volkov Family Tight-lipped About the Will. Who Will Inherit the Empire?'

Mikhail's phone was blowing up with calls and messages, most of them from his shocked family members,

And so was Elena's.

"Turn it off, don't respond to any question from my family."

The arrogant bastard commanded, minutes after they boarded his private jet.

He didn't even bother looking at her when he spoke, his eyes glued to his laptop screen.

Elena swallowed the lump of pain in her throat and pushed the red button, placing her head against the window as she watched Las Vegas get smaller and fainter.

Her eyes were red from crying last night, curled up in her tiny apartment hours after Mikhail had walked away.

She had spammed the hospital with threats and pleas, but she received the same response,

"Our apologies, ma'am, but the request was initiated from your email.'

That devil had gone as far as hacking into her email and abducting a patient in a vegetative state just so he could get his revenge.

Elena sank her teeth into her lower lip to dull the emotional pain that threatened to leave her raw, taking a deep breath.

She had survived worse; she would be all right.

And it wasn't as though she didn't have a hidden card.

***

It was sunset when the flight landed in New York, the beautiful city that Elena had once considered home and dreamt of raising kids in it.

They were immediately surrounded by security officers, fleet of tinted glass cars halting in front of them.

She had almost forgotten how important Mikhail was.

Reporters hounded them, pushing microphones to their faces.

"Are you going to get married to Ms. Elena again, Mr Mikhail?"

"Will you be inheriting the Volkov fortune?"

"How do you feel about your father's death? Did you reconcile with him?"

Flashes of cameras threatened to blind them, and as Elena made to turn away, she was pulled into those muscular arms.

For fuck's sake.

Not even the burning hate she felt for the ruthless bastard could make her deny how damn good he smelt,

Or how her stupid traitorous body relaxed against him.

Those skilled fingers caressed her shoulders, and he muttered in a deep voice,

"Our relationship is our private life, but the only thing you need to know is that Lena and I are still madly in love with each other."

Lena...The name he used to call her in bed while they basked in the throes of explosive passion.

But wait a minute, madly in love?

Was he insane?

As soon as he uttered those lies with that fake passionate voice, Elena stiffened, a gasp of surprise wrenching from her throat.

And feeling that, the son of a bitch ran his palm down her waist, casually brushing against her round ass.

This time, it was a moan that spilled from her lips.

Elena was silent throughout the short ride to the penthouse, anger vibrating through her petite frame.

It made her sexier; the heaving breasts, pouted plump lips which he had always enjoyed wrapping around his cock and that delicious ass that juggled as she walked hurriedly.

Mikhail ran his tongue through his lips and willed his raging hard-on to be in control.

First things first.

As soon as they walked out of the private elevator and stepped into the luxurious living room, Elena turned sharply towards him, her vibrant long hair moving like liquid.

"Don't you fucking touch me again. I don't care what sick game you wanna play, but I won't be a part of your boredom!"

Each word was bit out, her eyes blazing with fiery rage.

Mikhail Volkov raked his eyes through her sexy body, and the moment his eyes darkened, she fucking knew she was cooked.

Elena took a step back, her pupils wide and so damn hot he could hardly breathe.

He covered the distance between them, his pupils dark with pure lust, his hunky build towering over her.

"Wh...what are you doing? Get off me right now or else..."

He was so close that she could feel his hot breaths, her body trapped between the wall and the harder planes of his muscular body.

But all of a sudden, his gaze caught sight of something, and he narrowed his eyes to slits, his pupils darkening with rage.

"Take off your clothes."

Talk about being bipolar.

Why the hell was he suddenly enraged as if he was the one whose life had been forced away from him?

At twenty-three, Elena had nothing to her name, living the life of a wretched maid.

Her naturally arched brows furrowed in confusion, her eyes blazing with the same anger in his.

Then she tilted her head, meeting his eyes, "Hell no."

However, she had barely completed those words when her dress was pulled and ripped apart, baring her body to him.

What the...

Elena Taylor ran her eyes down her exposed body and returned slowly to those amber pupils, but the burning anger melted into something else when she registered the expression in them.

Desire.

Need.

Pure undiluted hunger.

All for her, and immediately, a thought struck her mind.

This time, Mikhail had the surprise coming for him when she reached for her bra, and without taking her eyes off him,

She took it off. Then, reaching for her panties, she pulled it down and slowly stripped out of it,

Standing before him in total nudity.