Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it.
Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I INVITED VOLKOV. I don’t particularly want to talk to that big Russian bastard, but the only way out is to make a better offer than the one Freya’s father made.
I could’ve conducted the business in private, but I wanted Yuri to know that I’d never just sit back and watch from the side-lines. I wanted to catch him off guard.
Freya freezes in my arms, mouth parting as she gazes across the room, where her father is equally surprised.
I pull away from her, but it annoys me. I want to stay and watch the hope drain from her face. I want to drag her away and punish her for thinking she could ever leave in the first place.
Unbidden, the memory of earlier flashes in my mind. She chose to ignore me for a week, and it pissed me off. So I gave it to her. I let her have five minutes of control.
If she decided to kill me in those five minutes, I wouldn’t have held it against her.
But all she did was slap me. I can’t say I didn’t deserve it. I was practically begging for a reaction.
And the way she rode me through my clothes . . . fuck. I loosen my collar.
Freya Morozov is an extreme exercise of self-control. The whole time, I’m promising myself that I won’t give in. And I can’t figure out if she’s sent by God or the devil.
Cause, fuck, do I want to give in.
Across the room, Yuri’s glare could kill. I know what he wants. He’s scrambling to reassume his position, to regain control.
I nod for Luca to follow me, and tell Vito, Luca’s father and my consigliere. “Handle Rune.”
Luca follows me. The sound of the music fades as we walk further down the long narrow hallway to the boardroom.
“Are you going to let her go?” Luca asks.
I’ve always envied my cousin’s easy-going nature — the way he’s naturally able to start conversations. There’s nothing special about the way he talks to Freya. He talks to her like he’d talk to anyone.
What fucks me up is that she talks back.
She passes him those smiles of hers. She gives them to him willingly. Just like that.
I chose her because she was a shiny new toy I wanted to play with. But now, the thought of letting her go is gasoline doused over the wick in my chest.
I’ve developed some sort of sick obsession with her.
I don’t understand it.
It’s like an unknown virus — one with actual fucking symptoms, too.
She gives me constant headaches, and I feel feverish whenever she’s around. When she speaks to me, my mouth goes dry. When she’s too close, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. When she ignores me, I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Can’t breathe.
