rows of grapevines.
Haven sat up, looked around and jolted.
The Water Lilies was leaning against the far wall.
Her pulse spiked. It looked fine. There appeared to be no obvious damage to it. Thank God.
She rubbed her hands. The duct tape was gone, but there was still sticky residue on her wrists. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she jerked her head around. Aleksandr Volkov came out of an adjoining doorway.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he said.
She glared at him, but inside she was quaking.
“Do you need some water?” he asked. “The drugs can leave your mouth dry, I hear.”
“I don’t want anything from you. You can’t just kidnap me!”
He moved to the desk and leaned his hip against it. “I can do anything I want, Haven. I always have, I always will.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
“I’m not afraid of Zane Roth.”
“Zane is a friend of my boyfriend’s. He’s not mine.”
Volkov cocked his head, a furrow forming on his brow. “It doesn’t matter, you’re mine now.”
Annoyed, Haven leaned back against the couch. “Seriously, what is it about me that attracts obsessive, creepy men?”
Volkov’s eyes flashed. “Careful. I don’t allow disobedience or insolence.”
The tone of his voice sent a tremor of fear through her belly.
“I can give you so many things, Haven.” He spread his hands. “Dresses, shoes, jewelry, the finest of everything.”
“You really think I care about that?”
He tilted his head. “I should’ve known you’d have more class. I have art that you’ll love to see. As soon as the buyer arrives—” he nodded at the Monet “—and I complete the sale of the painting, my good friend Sergei Zakharov will transfer me my share.”
Scumbag. Her nails bit into her palms.
“Then we’ll head to my oceanside estate in Mexico. You’ll love it. My art collection is incredible.”
She tasted bile in her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Rhys will come for me.”
Volkov looked unimpressed. “The boyfriend?”
“Yes, Rhys Norcross.”
The older man straightened like he’d been stung by something. “Norcross?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
He muttered a curse. “Related to Easton and Vander?”
“Their brother.”
The look on Volkov’s face turned unhappy and disturbed. Then he shook his head. “No one will find you here, not even the Norcross brothers. After the buyer arrives from Silicon Valley, we’re leaving. We’ll be long gone before any Norcross can track you down.”
Haven glared at him.
“I want you to go into the adjoining bathroom. I have an outfit in there that I want you to change into.” He gave her activewear a slight sneer.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
Volkov smiled coldly. “If you don’t reconsider, I will undress you myself.”
Ick. She didn’t want this man’s hands anywhere near her.
Glaring at him, Haven stomped through the doorway he indicated. Inside was a small, but nicely appointed bathroom with brown-granite countertops shot through with gold.
Hanging on a hook on the wall was a fire-engine-red dress, and a pair of strappy, silver shoes with four-inch heels. Ordinarily, she’d drool over the shoes, but since Volkov had bought them, she didn’t. The dress wasn’t nice, though. It was far too short, far too clingy, and far too low-cut to be something she’d usually wear.
Annoyed, she pulled her gear off and slid the dress on. Great, she looked like a high-class escort. She slipped the shoes on and decided to leave her ponytail. She wasn’t pandering to him any more than she had to. She strode out, glaring at him.
His eyes lit up. “Good. Soon, we’ll be on our way.” He strode out.
Haven pressed her hands to her face. Shit, she hoped that wasn’t true. Rhys would come.
She dragged in a shaky breath.
Damn, she really wished she’d told him that she loved him.
Okay, well she wasn’t going to sit around hoping to be rescued like some lousy damsel in distress. She definitely wasn’t going to let herself be whisked off to a skeevy bad guy’s estate, no matter how much art he had.
First, she checked the French doors. Locked, and no key in sight. She figured smashing the glass would make too much noise.
She walked back to the bathroom and searched it. She found a small air freshener spray in the cupboard under the sink. It wasn’t mace, but it would do.
Back in the office, she glanced at the desk. Maybe there was a phone? A jolt of adrenaline rushed through her and she hurried to the desk. She checked everything. One drawer was locked, one had nothing but a notepad and pen, and the others were empty. Nothing