Maryna awoke to the scent of aged wood and something darker—something that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
She was no longer in the poker den.
She was in a grand, unfamiliar room, the towering walls lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes. Heavy drapes blocked out the night, the only illumination coming from flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the polished floors.
Her head throbbed. The last thing she remembered was Vasilios's voice, the way he had looked at her like he already owned her.
A rustle of fabric made her snap to attention.
Vasilios stood near the fireplace, swirling a goblet filled with dark liquid. He was dressed in black, the high collar of his coat framing the sharp lines of his jaw. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable.
"You are awake," he observed, his voice rich as velvet.
She shot to her feet, only to find herself unsteady. Her legs trembled beneath her, her body still sluggish from whatever had been used to knock her unconscious.
"You drugged me," she spat.
"I prevented you from causing a scene," he corrected smoothly. "Consider it a mercy."
"A mercy?" Her voice rose, raw with fury. "You bought me like cattle."
Vasilios set his goblet down and crossed the room with a predator's grace. He stopped mere inches from her, towering over her petite frame. "I saved you," he murmured. "You would rather I had left you with your father? Left you to be sold to men who would not have been nearly as… patient as I?
A chill slithered down her spine. He was right, and she hated it.
He reached out, fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. She flinched but did not pull away. His touch was cool, unnervingly gentle. "You belong to me now," he murmured. "You will obey. You will learn."
Maryna clenched her fists, swallowing the fear rising in her throat. "And if I refuse?"
Vasilios's lips curved into something resembling amusement. "Then you will learn the hard way."