Someone touched the top of my head and I flinched.

Then the barrier between me and the room was torn off, and Adrian Petrov slowly came into view. I blinked against the brightness of the light and tried to say something, but my mouth was dry.

“Welcome, Willow.” He captured my face between his hands and squinted at me as if to determine whether I was mentally present. “Nice of you to join us.”

He released me, but not before my stomach heaved in revulsion because of his closeness. I gagged. When I recovered, I looked around, noting a number of men stationed like soldiers awaiting orders. Despite that, the room itself was nothing like a battlefield. We were in the living area of a luxurious apartment. Expensive art graced the walls, and the furniture looked custom-made.

“Why am I here?” I croaked. My throat felt as though I hadn’t had water for days.

“So I can tell you how disappointed I am that you ruined everything.”

I had? I frowned and tried to concentrate. He had his money. Shouldn’t he be happy?

But perhaps he hadn’t gotten paid after all. Was it possible that Tom had taken the money and run?

“The debt?” I rasped.

Petrov tsked and shook his head. “You’re missing the point, you stupid girl. I never wanted the money. I wanted Frank’s precious company and his beloved daughter.”

My insides went cold.

He’d never wanted Tom to be able to pay the debt. He might even have manipulated Tom into a situation where Tom had no choice but to give Petrov what he wanted.

I remembered what Ronan had said about Orlov’s last words. Orlov had tried to tell him.

My thoughts wandered back to Ronan.

How long had it been since we’d last spoken in his apartment? I glanced at the window, but the curtain was closed, so it was impossible to tell what time of day it was.

Surely Ronan would notice I was missing. Or if not him, then Sage would. Either way, someone would come for me. But until then, I couldn’t sit here and wait to be rescued. I needed to save myself.

I tried to speak again but the words were unintelligible.

“Get her a drink,” Petrov ordered.

A moment later, a glass of water was shoved under my nose. My dignity wanted to resist, but I was desperately thirsty, and being weak wouldn’t get me out of the situation. I let the man tilt my head back and pour water into my mouth, enjoying the cool flow over my parched throat. The water kept coming, and I spluttered and closed my mouth, turning away so I could cough.

Then, panting, I faced Petrov again.

“What, exactly, did I ruin?” I asked.

He scowled. “I had everything set up. It was going to play out exactly as I wanted. If only you hadn’t gotten that whoreson King involved.”

He struck me across the face.

My head jerked to the side, and it took a moment for my brain to process the pain. I tasted blood from biting my tongue.