Ivan watched as Jaya approached, gliding toward him like a golden goddess. He was relieved that she’d chosen to wear the sari he’d sent down for her. It was beautiful on her, golden with lace trimming. One of her shoulders and part of her smooth, brown stomach was left bare. His own stomach clenched in response as she rounded the large pool area brightly lit by lanterns, and continued her path toward him, flanked by one of his men. As she approached he heard the soft jingle of the metal beads on her sandals and wished her sari would allow him to view her feet and ankles. So far, every part of her that he’d seen was perfection, though he’d never craved a woman built quite like Jaya. In fact, nothing about her and his reactions to her was preceded by experience.

It wasn’t like him to care about such things as women’s apparel or an individual woman’s comfort, but there was something about this particular woman that made him care. He didn’t want her to feel discomfort. Nor did he want to visit her in her prison cell. He didn’t want to get to know the facets of her character in the confines of the stone walls he’d imposed upon her. For some reason, he wanted her to see the man rather than the ruthless arms dealer who’d kidnapped her with every intention of ending her life. Now he was on new ground. He’d never put himself out to be kind to a woman.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” she demanded, eyeing him as she stopped next to him, her head barely reaching his chin. It was clear that she was frightened, but still she spoke to him in such a way. She was a brave little thing. Perhaps this was what intrigued him about her? But then, he’d met and killed braver women.

Indeed, why was he doing this? He didn’t need to ‘date’ his captive. She was wholly under his control, he could easily fuck and dispose of her when he tired of her. He’d done much worse in his life, so the moral issue shouldn’t pose a problem. Yet, for some reason he felt compelled to wine and dine her. He was attracted to her and something about their situation made him uncomfortable. Those dark eyes of hers, both world weary and innocent, saw right through him, pierced him when no others could. They didn’t chastise him. They simply looked through him. It was as though, once she’d taken a thorough look at the Athens ball, she’d dismissed him for good, turned around and walked away. And not even kidnapping her could force her to acknowledge his presence in her life.

He gave her an honest answer. “I don’t know yet, Jaya.” He took her arm and led her to the table across from the pool deck. Her guard melted into the shadows but remained within the vicinity. The table was lit by lanterns as well as candles in bowls filled with water and white lilies. As he seated her, he leaned down and said against the side of her head, enjoying the silky length against his cheek, “But your safest course is to follow instructions and indulge me. I’m not a man to be crossed and you’ve tried my patience beyond what I would ordinarily accept.”

He was gratified to feel her shiver before he stepped away from her chair and made his way around the table. He wasn’t pleased at the length separating them, but he would accept the space for now. The table had been prepared to perfection at his specifications, each dish had meaning to her culture. Or the culture he believed she’d been born to. He would allow her some time to see him as more than her captor before he began pressing his suit. Now that he saw her dressed similar to the way he’d seen her in Athens, looking lovely and soft, he knew for sure he wanted her. But the thought of just taking her, raping all that loveliness, ruining it… didn’t sit well.

A servant filled his glass with a rich, red wine and then stood stiffly at Ivan’s side tilting the bottle so he could see the label; it was a Chilean Errauriz La Cumbra Syrah. He sipped the spicy red and nodded his head before waving the man toward Jaya. She smiled nervously and held her glass out for him to fill.

Ivan stiffened. Thus far she hadn’t once shown interest in a single member of his staff or security, yet she was smiling at the man serving their table. He watched and ruminated as she lifted the delicate crystal to her lips and took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened a little and she took a longer drink, her full bottom lip curving against the glass. His stomach clenched in response. For a man used to controlling both himself and his environment, he was finding he had a distinct loss of control around Jaya.

“Where were you born?” he asked so suddenly that she nearly lost her hold on the glass.

She set it down on the table and looked at him. “Why does it matter?”

He clenched his teeth. He wasn’t used to people withholding answers from him. But he knew getting anything out of this woman wouldn’t be easy. After all, she’d spent the better part of a year evading his best attempts at finding her. He would have to resist the urge to use his usual methods of persuasion. But he wasn’t going to banter with her all night. He wanted answers and he was going to get them. “Speak, Jaya, or this meal ends in your hunger and an even smaller cage.”

She stiffened and sent a glare down the length of the table that should have scorched him in his seat. “I was born in Mumbai,” she snapped.

His dick perked up at her heated look and the blood flowed thicker in his veins as though their banter, their body language was all a dance that would end in his conquest over her. Perhaps this was all new to him, having patience, but he thrived in the arena of battle.

“And where is your family?” he asked, fingering the stem of his wineglass, watching her every move with the sharpness of an apex predator. Sure enough, she flinched.

“Dead,” she said through gritted teeth.

The same servant who had brought their wine returned with a cart. On it were several dishes including tandoori chicken, chole bhature, butter chicken, biryani, litti and naan. Her eyes skimmed the food and her mouth opened in appreciation, her former ire forgotten as the delicious smells rolled toward her. She needed no urging. She quickly began filling her plate when the cart stopped next to her.

Ivan watched in amusement as she spilled a spoonful of rice on the tablecloth and ignored it in favour of grabbing another tandoori drumstick. She grabbed a handful of naan and said, “I’m done,” to the hovering servant. He smiled at her indulgently and rolled the cart toward Ivan.

“My dad hated ethnic food,” Jaya said, shoving a big piece of potato into her mouth and chewing. “He used to order pizza all the time and wanted my mom to make hamburgers and French fries. We almost never ate this stuff.” She took another big bite and closed her eyes while she chewed and swallowed. “But I’ve missed it. This is actually really good.”

She’d just offered him something voluntarily and the knowledge of her willing disclosure felt somehow valuable. He wanted more, but he didn’t know how to get it out of her. Watching her eat, watching her speak without rancor or fear in her voice was… stunning. He now knew exactly why he was doing this. So he could have moments like this; could have her voluntary participation in whatever it was he wanted from her. Without tearing his eyes from her, Ivan dished up his own plate.

“What happened to them?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped open and the peaceful moment she had been enjoying melted away. Ivan felt the man standing next to him stiffen. The cart rattled. He could feel his annoyance begin to rise. The other man should not have eyes, let alone feelings, for Jaya.

When she didn’t immediately speak, he pressed her in a cool voice, “Jaya, what happened to your family?”

“They died,” she said flatly.

“Yes, you said that already. What happened?” he demanded.

“I don’t talk about it,” she snapped.

The cart rattled again, and Ivan turned his head to the side to look at the man who had well past served his purpose. The man cleared his throat and hurried away, taking the cart with him. Ivan turned back to Jaya and raised an eyebrow leaning his elbows on the table. “You do now, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart!”

“Start talking, Jaya, or find out exactly how uncomfortable life can become,” he said coolly, taking another bite of his food.

She glared at him and stabbed a vegetable with her fork. She didn’t put it in her mouth though. “Is this how you treat all your dates? I’m surprised women go out with you,” she sneered, her cheeks darkening with emotion. “Then again, you probably have to kidnap them to get them to go out with you.”

He shrugged. “Actually, I rarely ask about a woman’s family and if I do, I couldn’t care less about the answer. With you, I do care. So, please indulge me, if you don’t want to find out where my patience ends.”

She sat in her chair breathing heavily for a moment, clearly struggling with her need to defy him. Eventually self-preservation won out. Staring stonily past him she said in a flat voice, “They were killed in an embassy bombing. The few people that survived the bombing were killed when gunmen went in after and… and took the building. There were no hostages left alive.”

He nodded, not surprised. He thought it unlikely that she would have living family given the way she’d survived and lived the past several years. “How many of your family were killed?” he asked. “How were you spared?”

She didn’t bother withholding the information now that he’d gotten what he wanted from her. She continued to stare past him as she spoke, her fork held stiffly in her hand as though she’d like nothing better than to stab him with it. “Most of my family died in the bomb – mom, dad, two brothers and a sister.” There was no inflection in her voice as she spoke, though he suspected her inner turmoil was intense. “I was at a hotel with my grandma. She was sick and my mom wanted me to stay behind and take care of her. I w-was annoyed because I wanted to go with them. I thought the embassy would be somehow exciting.”

He didn’t think she’d meant to divulge how she’d felt. Survivor’s guilt. She thought she should’ve died with the rest of them. Up until that point he’d listened to her with his usual dispassion. Then she turned those dark eyes on him, that velvet brown gaze that looked right through him and she said, “My grandma died of a massive heart attack that night, only hours after we found out about the bombing. She couldn’t handle the thought of losing her only son and three of her grandbabies. So, she left me alone in the world.”

A piercing shaft went through his chest and his fist clenched against the table as he imagined her pain. Glass shattered behind him. The servant dropped something on his way back to the table. Jaya jumped, her gaze flying past Ivan’s shoulder. Ivan didn’t bother turning to look. He knew what’d happened. The man had been listening to her, watching her. She’d touched him with her pathetic story, just as she’d somehow touched Ivan.

“How old were you?” he asked, his voice cool.

“Twelve,” she answered picking at her food.

“Impossible,” Ivan snapped. “You can’t have been that young. Who took care of you?”

She shrugged. “No one. I took care of myself.”

“How is this possible?” he asked, staring at her. “You were practically a baby. You weren’t taken in by family or friends? You just… what? Wandered the streets of Mumbai until you grew up and became a hacker? No, I do not believe this, Jaya. Tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth!” she snapped. “I had no more family left, or none that I could get in touch with. But I was self-sufficient. I’m a genius, Ivan. I didn’t just become a hacker as you call it, I was always gifted this way. I look at technology and I just know how it works. I’ve always been that way.” She stared at him, her expression a cauldron of emotion. “What about you, Ivan? Did you just become this way overnight? Or were you born with a gun in your hand? I think something shaped you to become this way. What was it… what’s your accent, Ivan? Bosnian? Croatian? What, you don’t like talking about it?”

He stiffened, anger finally overriding the desire and curiosity he’d been feeling toward his dinner guest. He stared back at her, his icy expression the only warning he gave for her to stop speaking. She didn’t heed him.

“If I had to guess again I would say you were shaped into this soulless monster through war,” she continued, charging forward, heedless of the boundaries she smashed through. The servant who’d become instantly smitten with the pretty hacker wasn’t heedless though. He stood next to Ivan, his mouth open in horror, obviously terrified for her as she ploughed recklessly on. “What happened, Ivan? Did your neighbours murder all of your people and now you take your revenge on others as a way to control the world around you because you couldn’t control your childhood. Is that what happened?”

Ivan picked up his wineglass and took a sip, the only emotion visible was the slight tremble through the stem. He set it carefully down and asked, “Where did you find this information?” She couldn’t possibly have guessed. She must have come across it somewhere else.

She closed her mouth and stared at him, her face paling slightly as she realized exactly how far she’d just gone. What she’d just said to a notoriously vicious international arms dealer. He stood slowly, unfolding his tall body from the chair and then straightening the sleeves of his dress shirt before making his way around the table toward her. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in fear as he approached.

“Talk, now,” he demanded.

The servant hovered behind Ivan as though he could somehow save Jaya from Ivan’s wrath. In a move so swift that the servant didn’t see it coming, Ivan picked up a carving knife from the table, grabbed the other man by the jacket, slammed him against the table and sank the blade deep in his neck, slicing right through in one quick motion. He made sure to sever the carotid artery so the man would bleed out quickly and save them unnecessary screaming.

Jaya stared down at the man’s face, which was less than two feet away from her dinner plate. Blood poured from his neck and soaked into the white tablecloth while he flailed helplessly against the side of the table. Ivan watched Jaya during the entire episode, judging her capacity to handle this side of him. Her face had drained of colour and she looked as though she was about to either vomit or faint. As the servant ceased struggling, his body growing limp against the side of the table, Ivan tossed him away and dropped the knife back on the table. He stepped toward Jaya.

She stood abruptly and tried to back away from him, stumbling into her chair, terror creasing her features.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

She froze, her breaths coming out in whimpers. She bowed her head and refused to look at him as he stepped up to her. He tilted her chin and stared down into her face. Even frightened, she was so fucking beautiful it made his black heart ache. This evening might have ended in disaster, but there would be others. He’d ensured it by caging her in an impenetrable fortress.

He leaned down, bending his neck to adjust for his height and pressed his lips against her trembling mouth in a chaste kiss. “Sleep well, my Victory.” He turned and strode away leaving her to the care of her bodyguard.