I stared at him, my pulse racing with uncertainty. “You really have no idea,” he drawled, gaze alight with amusement. “Apparently, they don’t make girls as smart as they used to.” I was stupid. I knew it, and I accepted it. But hearing it from his lips sent a burst of fire through me. “Just tell me what you want, you psychopath,” I snapped, yanking at the ropes on my wrists. The flash of his eyes penetrated the dark as he pushed off the dresser, and I couldn’t hold in a flinch when he gripped my face. His voice was low and soft, and it scared me more than if he would have shouted. “Watch how you speak to me, or yov’ll soon find out how sick I really am.” My breath shook, but I held his stare. Russian roulette. One blink, and I’d be dead. Maybe that would be a quicker demise than what he had in store for me. His eyes warned, Don’t play games you can t win. Mine said, This isn’t a game. It’s hell. After a tense pause, he released me. “You, Mila, are just a means to an end. I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it though.” His gaze flicked to the TV as my moans grew louder. “Such an enthusiastic kotyonok.” My stomach turned, but even worse, my heart ached like it was ripped from my chest. I fell for this man. I’d cared, lusted, felt. I closed my eyes as Madame Richie’s laugh crawled from the dark corners of my mind, raising my pulse and the hair on my arms. I tensed, feeling him walk around my chair. “To be honest, I expected more from Alexei’s daughter. I’m almost disappointed by how easy it was.” I opened my eyes in more ways than one. “This is about my papa.” He chuckled, and the vibration coasted a shiver down my spine. “Give the girl a medal.” Ronan rested his forearms on the back of my chair, caging me in, and watched while I fucked his fingers onscreen. The soft sound of my breath and my recorded moans filled the room. He leaned in, his voice a rumble in my ear. “I wonder what your papa would think if he saw this.” Disgust bit at my veins. He couldn’t be that twisted.