“Get in the damn car before I knock you out,” the first one growls. They shove me into the back seat and throw a burlap bag over my head. It’s itchy and smells like stale tobacco.
“This is really unnecessary for fuck’s sake!”
“Shut up and sit still,” one of the men yells.
“Don’t tell me to shut up. I’ll go willingly just to save my hair from smelling like a basement, but at least turn the AC on. It’s humid in here.”
“One more word and I’ll knock you out.”
I don’t doubt him. I sit in silence for the twenty-minute drive. When they finally yank the bag off, I’m inside a mansion that looks like a museum. They march me into a study where a man who looks to be in his mid-twenties with dark hair and a face that belongs on a billboard sits behind a mahogany desk.
“Zoya Petrov. Welcome, welcome, please sit down,” he beams, setting his glass on the desk with a sharp thud.
“I’m not really in a sitting mood, considering I was just snatched on my day off by people who clearly didn’t check the group chat,” I snap, looking at him. “Who are you anyway?”
“I’m Dato Janelidze,” he says, giving me a flat look. “My associates saw you at the Romanov building today. You looked frantic, and then you had a very public meltdown at a trash can. I’m a curious man, Zoya. What kind of sensitive information is a little journalist like you carrying that makes her risk her life to enter Alexei’s den?”
“I was just trying to leave a one-star review on their terrible service,” I lie, crossing my arms.
Dato doesn’t laugh. He leans over the desk, his eyes cold. “Don’t lie to me. I hate being lied to. It makes me very unpleasant. My guys saw you clutching something to your chest outside his establishment before you threw it away. What was it? A file? A photo?”
“It was a receipt for coffee. Alexei asked me to give it to him when I go out,” I say, my heart drumming against my ribs.
Dato stands up and walks around the desk, stopping right in front of my chair. “I’m going to make this very simple. You’re going to stay here until I figure out exactly what you know. If you talk, you get a room. If you don’t, I’ll let my guys find out how many of your fingers it takes to make you honest.”
“So I’m a hostage now? Great. I hope the room service is better than the transportation.”
“You’re a guest until you become a liability,” he says, reaching out and grabbing my jaw with a grip that makes my teeth ache. “I have a very low tolerance for liabilities. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“You’re already proving you’re a psycho, so the point is taken,” I snap, jerking my face away.
“Take her to her room,” Dato tells the guards, not looking at me anymore. “If she tries to leave, break her legs. I don’t need her to walk to give me information.”
By the second night, Dato summons me for dinner. He sits me right next to him while he eats a delicious-smelling lamb dish. I look to the side and notice the maids staring stiffly at us. I smile at them, then give a small thank you to ease their nerves.
“So tell me, Miss Zoya, why is the great Alexei Romanov obsessed with you?” Dato muses, swirling his wine and watching me over the rim of the glass. “He’s let you go twice now. In this business, that doesn’t happen very often. Although I’ve heard the rumors about what he’s like behind closed doors. They say he’s a total animal. People say he goes through three women in a night and still isn’t satisfied.”
He leans in closer, his voice dropping. “So, satisfy my curiosity about the great Pakhan. Is he really that much of an animal in bed, or are you just a convenient place for him to blow off some steam?”
I set my fork down slowly, meeting his gaze dead-on. “Alexei and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.” I lean in, mirroring him. “But let’s be real, Dato. You are asking an awful lot of very specific questions about another man’s dick. Like… is that what this is? Do you like him? If you’re this obsessed with how the Pakhan fucks, you could just slide into his DMs. Send him a tasteful dick pic. Ask him out. It would definitely save us all this kidnapping drama.”
Dato’s smile twitches. It’s just a split-second freeze, but I catch it. “Careful with that mouth, Zoya. I’m just making conversation.”
“Conversation?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “You threw a bag over my head, locked me up, and now you’re grilling me about another man’s stamina like a jealous ex-girlfriend. If you’re in the closet, just own it. Come out swinging. Alexei might actually respect the balls it takes. Send him a fruit basket. A nice bottle of wine. Whatever. Just stop projecting your weird crush onto me and let me go home.”
His jaw locks. His knuckles go white around the stem of his wine glass. “You think you’re funny. That mouth is going to get you hurt.”
“Oh, I’m hilarious,” I shoot back, refusing to blink. “But seriously…if fantasizing about Alexei is your weekend hobby, be honest about it. Kidnapping journalists to fish for bedroom details is just pathetic. You want the scoop? Ask him. He might say yes. He might break your jaw. Either way, it’s a step up from this creepy interrogation.”
He leans back, forcing a dry chuckle. “You really enjoy testing men who could snap your neck without a second thought.”
“And you really enjoy obsessing over other men’s sex lives,” I counter sweetly. “So maybe work through that before you threaten me again. Just text him. Hey bro, heard you’re an animal, wanna compare notes? The worst he can say is no.”
Dato stares at me for a long, heavy beat. His expression turning ugly. He doesn’t look away from me as he waves a dismissive hand at the guards.
“Take her back to her room,” he orders coldly. “And take some wet rice to her. She will eat in silence.”
Heavy hands clamp onto my arms, hauling me roughly out of the chair.