I stared at her. I wasn’t sure what kind of world I’d stepped into, and it was starting to hurt my head.

Gianna struggled with the rope on my wrist, murmuring in a language I thought was Italian. She was, so far, the nicest—if questionably sane—person I’d met since setting foot in Moscow.

“He learned how to tie a knot in prison,” I said tonelessly.

“Among other things, I’m sure,” she parried as if she was annoyed. “I wonder if he engaged in a threesome too.”

She laughed at my blankly confused expression. “Sorry, that was just my aversion to prison nurses showing. It happens at the oddest times.” She finally freed a wrist before moving to the other, and I winced at the ache in my muscles as I lowered my arm to my side. “I’ve never known Ronan to tie a woman to a bed only to leave her there. I hope it’s just a phase.”

I was beginning to understand crazy was just the norm around here.

“We can only hope,” I said drily. Then, I added with unease, “Does his girlfriend live here?”

That amused her. “I’m sure hell will freeze over before Ronan is monogamous.” She paused to look me over, her gaze settling on my neck, which I knew was marked with a hickey. “But then again . . . this makes me feel a little optimistic.”

I didn’t think she was kidding.

I would hate to see how she and her husband got together.

“I thought Nadia was his girlfriend,” I said slowly.

She wrinkled her nose. “No, thankfully. She would make an awful sister-in-law. I can just imagine the dinner conversation.”

A modicum of relief filled me at the knowledge I hadn’t fooled around with someone’s boyfriend. The idea only added to the sickness of the situation. However, that was the least of my worries right now.

“I try to stay out of my husband and his brother’s business, but sometimes, eavesdropping gets the best of me. Ronan has an issue with your papa, not you.” She tugged at the rope with an Italian curse. “I’m sure it won’t be long until he concedes, and this is all sorted out.”

She seemed indifferent to the fact concede meant my papa’s head would decorate Ronan’s mantel. The hopelessness of this situation pulled on my chest while I stared at the ceiling.

“My papa already agreed to trade himself for me.”

She raised a brow. “Then why does Ronan still need you?”

“Torture.”

She laughed and then sobered when she realized I was serious. “Well . . . that’s interesting.”

Being sane and all, I had different words for the situation.

The other rope fell free, and I rolled off the bed. “Thank you. I just have to—”

“Go. I’ll find you some clothes.”

Thankfully, the cracked door led into a bathroom, and I released a sigh as I relieved myself. I washed my hands and face with a bar of soap and then found a spare toothbrush in the vanity drawer that I made use of, scrubbing the acidic taste of last night’s festivities from my mouth.

I returned to the room, suddenly feeling very, very naked.

Gianna sat on the bed with an article of clothing in her hand. “Here you go.”

I thanked her before slipping it on. The black, oversized T-shirt had Elvis Presley’s face on it, and it reached only to the tops of my thighs.

“Sorry,” she said. “The shirt was all I could get. Ronan gave me a growly look that swore retribution.”

My expression conveyed alarm for her.

She smiled. “He’s more bark than bite, I promise.”

“I saw him cut off a man’s finger, and he’s going to kill my papa.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess that puts him in an awkward light, doesn’t it?”

Bad light, I corrected in my head.

I was that person.

“I’m sorry about your papa. I am. But you’ve been thrown into the underworld, and here, things aren’t always black and white.”

I contemplated her words while she moved to the door.

“I have to go. My husband gave me a look that said we won’t be staying for dinner. Which is a shame because Polina makes the best medovik.” She rubbed a hand over her pregnant belly. “Anyway, I’m sure next time we meet, there’ll be less ropes and more clothes.”

She sounded optimistic, but I could only see my body parts being shipped off in FedEx boxes, my papa’s coffin, and, if I survived this, a world to traverse on my own. My stomach tightened. A burn stung the backs of my eyes.

Compassion filled her gaze, her hand on the knob. “Just remember . . . you have a goddess inside you.” She stepped into the hall and turned to look at me. “You just have to find her.”

strikhedonia

(n.) the pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it.”

I sat in the library behind my desk, an unlit cigar in hand. I refrained from smoking it because my brother occupied the couch with a sleeping Kat. They were always welcome, uninvited or not, but I found myself irritated by the timing.

Silence held steady in the room with his cool eyes on mine. I knew he had something to say, and I knew what it would be about, but still, I waited.

“There’s a naked girl tied to your guest room bed.”

My muscles tightened, revolting against the idea he saw her naked—an odd reaction considering I’d never minded sharing women before, not with my brother or anyone else. But I forced myself to lean back in my chair and say, “She’s my pet.”

I assumed the uncomfortable feeling originated from the fact I was the one who caught Mila. I put all the work in. I didn’t want anyone else to see her misery. It was mine.

“Your pet looks like a Mikhailov.”

“That’s because she is.”

“Her papa didn’t give in to your demands?”

I trimmed the end of the cigar with my cutter. “He did.”

He watched me with those inquisitive eyes. Christian—or rather, Kristian as I knew him—had always been able to see more than he should. It was annoying as fuck.

“So why is she still tied to your bed?”

My gaze narrowed. “She’s my pet.”

He looked away from me, obviously seeing everything he needed to. “You’d better make the trade.”

Aggravation lit in my chest, but I kept my voice indifferent. “I don’t tell you how to do your fancy desk job, so don’t tell me how to do mine.”

I was surprised Alexei had conceded so quickly.

And I didn’t like being surprised.

Though something else—something visceral, violent—swept through me at the thought of giving Mila up before I got what I wanted from her. I had a better idea: Prolong Alexei’s suffering by holding onto his precious daughter for a while. If this was like-for-like, I’d send her mutilated body back to him. But I didn’t want to mar her skin. I wanted her naked underneath me, her nails in my back, while I saw how many times I could make her come. The need raged inside me, hot and unrelenting. I was sure once I had it, this obsession would subside.

Then I could have my cake and eat it too.

“She has a hickey on the inside of her thigh,” Kristian mentioned casually.