Russian Mobster’s Blackmailed Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

eager. Yet when she placed her hand on the ornate door pull, she drew back. Her gut was roiling with anxiety, and her heart was pounding so fast that it was barely a flutter behind her breastbone. This was entirely too easy. There had to be a catch.
    She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to grab the door even though her hand was shaking.
    But in that moment she was forced to confront a very important question: What was it that she was running back to?
     
    IN THE DARKNESS of the foyer that sat between the front door of his penthouse and the elevator, Anatoly waited for Trisha to exit the apartment. He had no doubt that she would appear at any moment. He had left the opportunity wide open just to see what would happen. Yet as time wore on and the hour grew first later, and then earlier, he began to believe that she had somehow managed to scale the outside of the building and escape that way.
    Panic overtook him. Anatoly leaped up from his chair. In his haste, he toppled an antique table that sat in the center of the space. The table tilted at a crazy angle, the vase on top sliding over the edge. Anatoly reached out to snatch it up and missed.
    The sound of porcelain shattering against marble was deafening in the small foyer space. The noise echoed off the ceiling and ricocheted from the walls like gunfire. The motion sensors flickered in the darkness. Seconds later, the alarm went off. Boots thundered down the hallway on the other side of his front door.
    Anatoly barely had time to catch his breath before the front door slammed open. Yakov appeared, his gun pointing straight at Anatoly’s face.
    “Sir?” Yakov lowered his weapon, motioning for Sergei to do the same. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine.” Anatoly was more annoyed with himself than his men. He was acting ridiculous. Yet he had truly expected Trisha to attempt an escape this night. He had left her completely unguarded behind an unlocked door just for that reason. He had wanted her to see how futile escape was even when it appeared possible.
    Now Anatoly was left to wonder if she’d managed to double cross him.
    He remembered the initial errand that had ended in the broken vase. Pointing to the mess, he spoke to Yakov. “Call someone to clean this up please?”
    “Of course, sir.” Yakov frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
    But Anatoly didn’t answer. He was already on his way down the hallway toward Trisha’s room. He flung open her door without even knocking and flipped the wall switch.
    She sat straight up in the bed, blinking owlishly at the overhead light flooding the room.
    “What are you doing?” She actually yawned.
    He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Why are you still here?”
    “Because you’re holding me prisoner, remember?” She looked confused. “Are you drunk?”
    Anatoly shook off his anxiety and tried to remember that he was supposed to be calm and in control of his emotions. He examined his nails, trying to affect a bored attitude. “I expected you to attempt to run.”
    “Where would I go?”
    He had no ready answer for that one. Anything he said had the potential to aid in her fabricating an escape plan. 
    So he didn’t answer, posing another question instead. “Why would you not attempt to go home tomorrow?”
    “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind,” she said stiffly. “I’m female. It happens.”
    Shock made him lightheaded. “Changed your mind ? About going back to the States?”
    “Not that.” She waved her hand almost airily. “I’ve just changed my mind about going home.”
     
    TRISHA DID NOT want to say any more. She would have been giving too much away. Instead, she tried not to focus on the delectable way he looked with his tousled hair, dress shirt hanging half open with the buttons undone, and his slacks with bare feet. The man was absolutely edible. But it was also obvious that he wasn’t going to just walk away and respect her privacy after she’d