“Not combat skills, Boss,” he answered. “Survival skills. She’s a fighter. But not a trained one. This is everything there is to know about her.” He gave the file in his hand a slight wave, then walked over and set it on my table.
I flipped it open, taking a moment to skim through the pages.
Celine Hart. American. Business student.
“Fetch her for me.”
He nodded once and stepped out of the dimly lit study with others behind him.
A few minutes later, I heard a noise in the hallway—a struggle that hinted that my little prisoner was resisting.
“Where are you taking me—let me go!”
The door burst open, and Konstantin walked in with her slung over his left shoulder.
“Put me down!” She squirmed against his grip, slamming her fists into his back.
He met my gaze and locked his jaw, as if suppressing the rage coiling in his chest. The look in those cold eyes was a clear indication that this girl was already a pain in his ass. One he couldn’t wait to get rid of.
Konstantin bent over and loosened his grip around the back of her legs. She hopped off his shoulder but, unfortunately, couldn’t land on her feet. She fell on her ass.
I found the whole drama rather entertaining. And for the first time in a long time, I almost laughed.
Almost.
“She’s all yours,” he growled, fury flashing in his eyes. His gaze shifted back to her, and his brows knitted together, accentuating the scowl on his face.
Without another word, he walked out of the study and shut the door behind him.
Quietly, she rose to her feet, her eyes flickering across the room. She avoided my gaze but displayed a brave façade. Yet, behind that mask of courage was a scared little girl hoping she hadn’t just been thrown into a lion’s den.
Before I could birth my next thought, she asked a question that caught me off guard.
“Who are you?”
My brows nearly rose in surprise, but didn’t.
“What do you want from me?” She managed to hold my gaze.
She had balls.
I liked it.
“I’ll be asking the questions, young lady.” I got out of my chair, releasing a puff of smoke that curled up around my face.
She swallowed hard and clenched her jaw, as if bracing herself for whatever would come next.
I withdrew the ledger from my drawer and walked around my desk. “Do you know what this is?” I raised it in the air, leaning my ass against the edge of my table.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she tried her best to maintain a neutral expression. “It’s a book.”
“Have you seen this book before?” I set it on the table, my gaze pinned on her. “Think before you answer.”
Again, she swallowed hard; this time, her forehead was already damp with sweat.
I refused to take my eyes off her because I wanted to catch even the slightest change in her expression. Her fear was hidden, buried deep. Controlled. And it fascinated me.
While she thought carefully about her response, I took a good look at her. She was everything I saw in the footage of her, only more realistic.