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stroking his cock. What had happened next?
    No .
    Shit, she knew what had happened next. How did she end up shackled to his bed? Fuck, she needed to remember. She had to piece this together. She could not make a plan if she couldn’t piece it all together.
    The room was completely black, but she knew he was beside her. He wasn’t touching her, but heat radiated from his body. She was chained to Roman Zakharov’s bed. Her heart beat faster still. His proximity was too much; just knowing he was near sent her pulse racing.
    She would have never agreed to being handcuffed, which meant Roman had figured out her motives…or… Shit, maybe she had agreed to being chained. The desire was real; she had wanted him. She remembered that much. She had wanted to have sex with Roman. Maybe she would have agreed to handcuffs. Damn it. Why couldn’t she remember?
    Alcohol did not affect her this way. She could handle her liquor as well as any man in Russia.
    The tranquilizer.
    She had taken the drugged shot. No, she would not have been that careless. She never would have made that mistake. Roman switched them. He knew.
    Oh, fuck. She took in a ragged breath. But he would have killed her if he knew, and her knee was in agony, so she was very much alive.
    “Good morning.” Roman’s deep voice sounded in the darkness. The mattress dipped under his weight as he rolled over. Her heart jumped into her throat. He was in bed beside her. Terror slammed against her with every violent beat of her heart. She was defenseless now, not that she’d had any power before, but at least she had not been shackled. She was completely at his mercy. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she sucked in air. She could not slow her breath any more than she could slow her pulse. What was he going to do?
    He stood up and switched on the light. The chandelier above lit up. Thousands of crystals sparkled above them. Light ricocheting off every surface blinded her. She could not open her eyes; the light was far too bright.
    Oh, shit. Think. What do I do? Her brain would not engage. All training was lost to the frantic fugue of thoughts.
    “I trust you slept well,” Roman said. He was standing above her. She blinked several times to clear her vision. When she finally did she regretted it: he was completely naked, just like her. The remaining breath in her body left her in an audible whoosh.
    “Uncuff me.” Her voice cracked. Her throat was dry. Water, she needed water… Roman towered above her, wearing nothing but a scowl. He was menacing enough when he smiled. When he scowled, it was the stuff of nightmares.
    The scar on his face reached down his neck and over his shoulder, ending below his chest where his heart should be. She squinted to study his body; it was oversized perfection. Georgina was used to men with long, lean muscles. She used to think that was what a man’s body should look like, but she was wrong. Men’s bodies should look like Roman’s, with large muscles and deep grooves that defined each one. Roman would never struggle to lift her. She would not need to starve herself if he were her partner. If all male dancers were built like him…
    His body was beautiful…but terrifying.
    “Uncuff me,” she said again.
    Slowly Roman shook his head. “We both know I can’t do that.”
    Georgina swallowed past the lump in her throat. She was still alive. If he wanted her dead, he could have already done it. And whatever depravities he wanted with her body, he had already done them, and the only thing that hurt was her knee. She could get through this.
    Roman held up the transmitter. “Small. Government issue. You are from United States, yes? What do the Americans want from me? All of my businesses there are legitimate.”
    Georgina forced a smile to her face. Any fear she felt, she could hide. And she would not bother denying it was a bug. “No doubt that is where the money ends up after it is well laundered.”
    “So your government sent you. I did