The blindfold was ripped away, and bright cabin lights stabbed straight into my eyes.

I gasped, yanking hard against the thick leather cuffs locking my wrists to the armrests of the luxurious seat. The jet engines were already humming louder, the plane accelerating down the runway. My heart hammered like a war drum in my chest. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was real.

And the man responsible sat directly across from me, legs spread, watching me with those icy grey eyes that seemed to cut right through my soul.

Alexei Petrova.

Forty-two years old. My father’s most hated rival. The man whose name was never spoken aloud in our house...