Page 5 of Bratva Stalker Kidnaps His Bride

But she stands her ground, wanting to be burned.

Little bird, you don’t know what this flame can do to you.

“You’re staying here tonight,” I grunt.

Her chin lifts defiantly.

“Am I?”

“We leave for New York in the morning,” I state, clipped.

She stares at me.

“No.”

Like she’s in any place to offer resistance.

I already knew she’d say that. I just didn’t know how snobbishly she’d say it, like I didn’t just save her life, like her life isn’t in my complete control right now.

Most people, after what happened in that alley, are grateful for a room. Something solid that protects them from what just tried to reach them through a narrow street.

She is not most people. I have known this for six weeks, but still, it comes as a surprise.

“Your investigation can go on,” I wave her little ’no’ off. “Your life won’t if you remain in Dubai.”

“You don’t get to make that call.”

“I already have.”

Her jaw sets. She turns toward the table, picks up the glass of water I poured, and for one moment, I can’t tell if she’s going to drink from it or smash it on the floor in a fit of rage.

She sets the glass down untouched.

“I came here because the answers are here,” she begins. “The financial trails, the routing network, the designations—they all trace back to Dubai. If you take me to New York, you remove me from the only tangible lead I have found in two months of looking. I am not leaving.”

“You are under the assumption that this was a request. It’s a direct order.”

She darts towards me, her hands pushing against my chest. I only raise a brow, not moved in the slightest as she uses all her force. She grunts, her palms warm against my chest.

My hand closes around her wrist. She resists, grunting, before her head leans back to glare at me.

The look on my face makes her go still, the fight draining out of her momentarily. Every muscle of hers is pulled taut, her chin already jutting out.

The pulse beneath my thumb is fast. Her lips are bitten red like cherries, slightest shade of hazel in those defiant eyes. The warmth of her, and the press of her tits against my body nearly distracts me.

I should release her.

She tilts her head, her lashes fluttering as those brown eyes heat up darkly.

She is not frightened of me. Instead, I know she feelsexactlywhat I’m feeling.

"Let go of me," she whispers.

I release her wrist, leaving her standing right where she is.

“The room at the end of the hall,” I manage roughly. “Sleep.”

Even as I step away from her, my palm still feels the ghost of her pulse, the way her curves pressed against me, even under that shitty blazer.