Summary:

“You have no idea who your parents really are, do you?” the Russian asked seriously after a few minutes passed of them staring at one another, though it was really more Shane glaring and heaving while Ilya calmly observed him with an unsure glint in his eye. “I have no idea what I’m doing here and what you want with them. If this is some kind of stupid business dispute, I have bad news for you, asshole. I don't know about their business, I don’t even know what their business is, and I’ve never been involved in their business,” Shane seethed as slowly as he possibly could so Ilya could understand that he genuinely had no idea of what was going on. “Now will you please untie me and take me home? I don’t even care if you knock me out again, just fucking let me go!” Ilya set the glass down to the side of him on the black leather cushion and rose from his seat, unfolding gracefully until he was towering over Shane with cool indifference. He bent slightly, leaned in close enough to Shane’s face that he could smell the vodka the Russian man had been drinking, then said easily, “I think I will keep you, actually.”