The Billionaire's Thief: A Love Forged In Crime

Chapter 4

ANASTASIA

Cold steel bites into my palms where I grip the yacht’s railing. I’d thought I had it all figured out. I’d pictured a life where I didn’t have to barter pieces of myself to people who treated my fear like a commodity.

I’d thought I was free. But freedom was just a shape I’d drawn in my head—no substance, no weight to hold it down.

Salt and open water fill my lungs, sharp against the knot tight in my throat. Waves slam against the hull, each crash matching the frantic thud of my heart. I don’t need to turn around to know he’s watching me. I can feel his eyes on my skin, warm and heavy as they move over me. It’s like he’s learning the lines of my body by sight alone, and the thought that I’m giving him pleasure makes my stomach clench.

Maybe that’s what he wants—to look at the woman who tricked him, who took from him like he takes from everyone else.

His stare makes me prickle all over. Then he laughs, low and smooth, cutting through the wind like silk through glass. This man isn’t the one who held me in bed that night. He’s nothing like him at all.

Kirill Yevgenyevich Ivanov. He was supposed to be my ticket out. Loan sharks had been breathing down my neck for years; three years running with a crew of thieves still wasn’t enough to pay off the million my ex left me with. So I took a chance on a solo job. I picked him because I thought he’d be easy.

But easy doesn’t exist where he’s concerned. Not with him standing just a few feet away, quiet as the sea.

He hasn’t said a word since I woke up on the deck. He doesn’t need to. The soft rustle of his shirt against the wood is enough to fix him in my bones—solid, unshakable, impossible to ignore.

I’d told myself billionaires don’t miss a little cash or jewelry. That he’d write off the wallet and ring like they were nothing. The joke is on me now. The job I’d planned as my last might be the one that buries me.

I must have taken more than his things. I’ve caught his attention, and that’s a heavier burden than any debt.

Maybe it’s my fault. I dug my own grave the moment I didn’t bother to learn who he really was. All I knew was he was rich, that he liked bars and swapped women as often as he changed his shirts. I let him take my virginity because I thought it would get me close enough to steal what I needed.

I bite my lip and drop my eyes to the deck, where salt crystals glitter like broken glass. Then his voice cuts through the wind.

“Look at me.” The command is flat, final. No trace of the gentle tone he used that night. The playfulness, the sly charm I’d thought I’d seen—all of it is gone.

I lift my chin and meet his gaze. Wind whips my hair across my face, but I don’t push it away. Let him see my eyes only. I’m terrified, but he’ll never read it there.

He stands like he’s been carved from stone, skin smooth and pale under the setting sun. A black diamond piercing glints in his lower lip, catching light like ice on a blade. His hair is the color of weak sunlight breaking through winter clouds, and his eyes are blue as deep water—so dark they look like they could pull you under and keep you there.

Women fall for him, yes. But not just for his face. His eyes hold something sharp and bitter—a monster wearing the clothes of a prince. The piercing flashes every time he moves, and his voice carries like it’s coming from far away, like a song you want to follow even as you know it will drown you.

The sun paints gold across his shoulders. He wears no tie, just a white shirt rolled to his elbows; the top three buttons are undone, revealing the hard line of his collarbones.

“You’re wondering why I haven’t thrown you to the sharks.” His voice is low, calm as the sea before rain comes.

I force a smirk to my lips. “Saving it for low tide, I bet. Less mess to scrub off the deck.” If I’m going to lose, I won’t look like I’m begging.

Something flickers in his blue eyes—admiration, maybe.

“Clever girl,” he murmurs, and starts walking toward me.

When he’s close enough, his cologne wraps around me—spicy and clean, the kind of scent you can’t buy with just money.

“But wrong. I want you awake when I break you.” The yacht lurches to a stop as he speaks, and I stumble forward. My palm hits his chest, flat against warm skin and muscle.

I can feel his heart beating under my hand—steady, slow. Nothing like mine, which hammers so hard I think it might tear through my ribs.

Kidnapping a woman seems to mean nothing to him. No panic, no second thoughts. I was right about one thing: he won’t kill me. But he won’t let me go either.

I’m a toy to him. Something to play with until he gets bored.

I shift my hand to steady myself, and my fingers brush his n****e by accident. He lets out a slow breath, warm against the air between us, then cups my chin with his thumb.

“You’ll work for me.” It isn’t a question.

“Work for you as what?” I snap. “Your w***e?”

One corner of his mouth lifts slowly. “Too simple. Hmm… I want you on your knees asking to be my whore.” He runs his thumb along my lower lip, light enough that I can barely feel it. “Starting tomorrow, you’re my secretary. My shadow. You’ll bring me coffee and keep track of every man I put in the ground. Every night you’ll sit across from me at dinner—wearing dresses I choose, eating what I say you can… and wondering when I’ll finally have enough of you.”

I laugh, sharp and disbelieving, and pull away from his hand. “Go to hell, Kirill.” I spit at his shoe, the wet spot dark against polished leather.

He doesn’t flinch. He catches my wrist in his hand, his grip firm enough to hold me still even as I pull against him.

“Careful, love. You’ll make me fall in love.”

—

“Let me go! Are you out of your mind? This is kidnapping, Kirill!” I scream as the men in black shove me forward across the yacht’s wooden deck. Rope bites into my wrists where they’re bound behind my back, and the same clothes I wore when they took me cling to my skin—wrinkled, stained with salt spray.

I can’t tell how much time has passed. I remember arriving in Inhobol as the sun was going down, and now it’s sinking low again over the water. That means nearly a full day has gone by since they dragged me aboard. The hollow ache in my stomach confirms it—I haven’t eaten a thing since before it all went wrong.

I fix my eyes on Kirill’s back as he walks ahead of us, each step steady on the deck. If I could burn holes through him with just a look, his spine would be swiss cheese by now.

“Hurry up—” The man behind me starts to speak, then cuts himself off when I spin around and bare my teeth at him.

“This is kidnapping. It’s illegal. Why are you letting him do this to me?” I nod toward Kirill, my jaw tight enough to ache.

I can’t see their faces—sunglasses hide their eyes—but one of them shrugs before leaning close enough that I flinch back from his breath.

“Blame yourself. The moment you caught his eye, you sealed your own fate.” He straightens up, his voice flat and final. “No one to blame but you.”

I fall silent. Fighting won’t get me free—not today, anyway. But I’ll get out eventually. I just need to learn every inch of this place first. I need to know where every door and window leads.

I drop my gaze to the deck, then look back at Kirill as he reaches the dock and steps onto dry land. I follow, my shoulders tight with anger I can’t shake loose.

Why now? Why when I was finally free to start over? Why now?

I let out a slow breath and scan my surroundings. White sand stretches out in every direction—no tourists, no signs of anyone else at all. Of course he’d pick a private island. Even a fool wouldn’t bring a hostage somewhere crowded.

“Hey. What is this place? Where are we?” I ask the men behind me, turning to look at them. They just stare ahead, their faces blank as stone.

I slump my shoulders and turn forward again, studying every detail as we walk. We pass through thick trees first—dark green and heavy with damp air—then emerge into light so bright I have to blink.

“Wow.” The word slips out before I can stop it. A pathway opens up ahead, arched over with flowers of every color—pink, purple, yellow—like something from a movie set. Petals brush against my cheeks as we pass under the arch.

“s**t. Where are we?” I mutter, even as I feel a flicker of wonder.

“Just wait till you see the house,” one of the men says, and I cut him off sharp.

“Is that so?” My voice is hard, even as my eyes drift over the petals at my feet.

I pick up my pace, irritation pricking at my skin. They could have been decent to me—they could have taken me back to the city. But money makes people loyal, I guess. Billionaires can buy just about anything.

I’m about to snap at them again when I stop dead in my tracks. The house ahead isn’t a house at all—it’s a mansion, sprawling across the hillside with stone walls and ivy crawling up every surface. Windows catch the last light of the sun, glowing like gold coins.

“Told you,” the guard says from behind me, and I turn to glare at him.

“Don’t talk to me. I don’t speak to devils.” My voice drips with sarcasm, but he just shrugs.

“Poor woman,” he says, then both men turn and walk away, leaving me at the front gates.

“Hey! Where are you going—” I clamp my hand over my mouth, my heart jumping.

They left me. Does that mean I can run?

I look around—no one in sight. Kirill’s nowhere to be seen either, probably inside already.

“Can I really get away?” I whisper to the air, my eyes scanning for another way out. I start toward what looks like a garden—fountains splash water into the air, and flowers grow in neat rows all around.

I move faster, my hands working at the ropes on my wrists as I go. I almost reach the garden gate when a voice booms across the lawn, echoing off the mansion walls and carrying over the sound of the fountain.

“Choose. Walk inside on your own, or I’ll walk inside you.”

I look up to find him on the terrace, leaning against the railing with a megaphone in his hand. He’s grinning, and his black diamond lip piercing catches the light like ice.

I pull my hands free of the ropes and flip him off with both fingers.

“f**k you!” I shout back, my voice raw and sharp.

He brings the megaphone to his mouth again, and his voice carries across the lawn like cold water.

“Try me, Anastasia.” The way he says my name makes my skin prickle all over.

“Disobey me, my dear secretary, and you’ll learn what it means to serve. I’ll f**k you till you can’t stand up straight.” His piercing glints as he smiles.

“That’s not a threat, Tasia. It’s a promise.”