Vladimir (Russian Dragon Heat #1) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,7

on, the heavy furniture a deep mahogany. A beautiful four-poster bed with the same brocade drapes as those hung at the windows dominated the room. Thick and colorful Aubusson rugs covered the floor. The adjoining bathroom was almost as big as the apartment she and Pyotr had once shared, with a walk-in shower at one end and a sunken bath at the other. There was also a mirrored vanity, and on top of it, all the upmarket toiletries she could possibly need but had never been able to afford.

Nevertheless, Tanya had become inured to these luxuries over the last three months.

The two servants who brought her food refused to speak to her or answer any of her questions. Although the man’s likeness to Izzi Mikhailova indicated he might be one of her two older brothers who also worked for the Romanov family, as their children would after them.

There was no television or other access to the outside world, her mobile phone having been taken from her before she was locked away in the tower.

Tanya had read the dozen or so paperback thrillers on the small bookcase in the corner of the sitting area. Twice. And there was only so much time she could spend looking at the blinding snow scene outside the windows without going quietly out of her mind.

None of that was helped by the fact she was still waiting for one or all of the Romanov dragons to arrive and drag her out into the pristine white snow before ripping her to pieces for their pleasure. In the same way they had killed her parents.

She felt the now familiar itching on her arms as she rose to her feet to see better out of the window as the black vehicle came to a halt in front of the palace. She’d had this same reaction several times during her months of confinement. It felt as if bees buzzed beneath her skin and made her want to scratch at the discomfort.

Her breath caught in her throat, heart pounding, itching forgotten, as the driver’s door was thrown open and a dark-haired man stepped out.

Not just any man, but the coldly arrogant Vladimir, the eldest and, despite his urbane appearance, Tanya believed the most dangerous of the Romanov dragon shifters.

Tanya’s heart began to pound, the blood coursing hotly through her veins and bringing back a return of that annoying itching sensation.

Even in human form, Vladimir was imposing. Six and a half feet tall, with styled but overlong black hair, his handsome features were all patrician elegance: dark, piercing eyes, narrow nose between high, sculpted cheekbones, thin top lip and plumper bottom one above a hard and pointed jaw.

He wore a black ankle-length duster that appeared as if it was made out of cashmere. Tanya had worked in an upmarket store two years ago and knew what cashmere looked like. As she had only ever seen Vladimir in tailored suits and silk shirts in the past, no doubt he was dressed that way today too beneath that long overcoat.

Not that he needed an outer coat. According to the notes her mother had made in the journals, which Tanya had read from cover to cover many times, the Romanov dragon shifters were immune to the vagaries of the weather.

Tanya wondered where those journals were now. If the Romanov brothers had taken possession of them, they’d probably been destroyed so as not to reveal they were not only dragon shifters but occasionally killed humans. At least, Tanya hoped it was occasionally.

Tanya froze as, rather than immediately entering the palace with the same long and arrogant strides as when she had caught those disturbing glimpses of him in the short time she worked at the Mikhailov Palace, Vladimir instead glanced up toward the east tower where he obviously knew she was being kept prisoner. The cold obsidian glitter of his eyes was enough to turn the blood in Tanya’s veins to ice.

Because it was a cruel coldness.

One that told her she was, in all likelihood, about to die.

Vladimir accepted Dimitri and Katrine Mikhailov’s warm and deferent greetings as he handed Dimitri his overcoat—Dimitri was the eldest of Anna and Anton Mikhailov’s two sons, and Katrine his wife—confirming to them that yes, he would be staying for several days, before he took the stairs two at a time up to his suite of rooms in the west tower.

Once there, he removed his suit and carefully put the jacket and matching trousers on a hanger before placing them