by Raven Dark
I kick the slippers under the bed. “Was there something you wanted, Sir?”
“Go to the closet.”
I walk over to the open closet door, about to ask him what I’m looking for when I see my answer. There’s a dress hanging there covered in a plastic drape. It’s a stunning, all white cashmere affair, low and tight in the bust with a skirt barely long enough to cover my ass.
I snatch in a breath, running my fingers over the creamy silk fabric. The entire thing is cashmere. It must have cost a fortune.
“You like?” His low, husky voice washes over me.
“It’s beautiful, Sir. A little fancy for my taste, though.” Even living with my father, always being provided with the best money can buy, I’ve always dressed causal. It drove my dad nuts.
“Still a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl, huh?”
“Always.”
“Not anymore. I want you dressed nice for me at all times.”
I can literally feel a little more of my freedom slipping away with every second. “I’m not undressing in here with your pervy eyes on me, Sir.” I head toward the en suite bathroom for a shower. “Wait, is there a camera in the bathroom, too?” God, is he going to expect to watch me shower?
“You think I’m going to tell you?”
Yeah, it was stupid to even ask. I drop my shoulders.
“Turn around, Aurora. Take off your clothes.”
I whirl around. If he needs me to turn around in order to see anything interesting, the camera in here must be behind me.
Throat dry, I march across the room and look over the dresser and vanity, inspecting the mirrors on both, examining the perfume bottles and top-of-the-line makeup. I don’t find anything that looks like it has a hidden camera, but I’m not a surveillance geek, so that doesn’t say much.
Dad had cameras all over his apartment, but they were to make sure no one was bringing in anything dangerous or trying to steal from him, and they weren’t in my bedroom or anywhere I did anything private. I scan the room, but still don’t find anything that looks like a surveillance device.
“Don’t bother looking. You won’t find the camera.”
“Michael, you’re bent.”
“Clothes. Off. Now. I want to see you.”
Humiliation washes over me in a wave, while the rich, growled timber of his voice along with the prospect of baring myself for him licks at my clit.
Livid, I toss the phone on the bed and strip down until my body is bared in all its glory. Then I snatch up the phone. “Happy?”
He hums in his throat. The sound makes my toes curl into the thick white carpet. “Very. Turn around.”
Tears of shame sting my eyes. I close them, refusing to risk the chance that he can see me well enough on the camera to tell if I’m crying. It takes all my willpower to put my back to him, letting him see my ass.
“Chort proviri, you’re fucking gorgeous, kravitsa.”
“Can I have my shower now, Sir?” It pisses me off that my throat is tight enough for him to hear it in my voice.
“Do you know what you do to me?” His voice is rough now. “I got off three times last night just thinking about you.”
Oh, God. I want to be angry at his words, at the idea that he was sitting somewhere watching me in this room and beating off without my knowledge. I am angry, but the notion also fills my mind with images of him fisting that monstrous cock of his, stroking himself to release. My mouth waters.
Not trusting myself to speak, I swallow and say nothing.
“All right,” he adds as if going easy on me. “Go have your shower. Clothes will be left for you every morning on the closet door. The phone is programmed so that I’m the only one you’ll be able to call.”
“Of course it is.” Wouldn’t want me calling Antonio. Or the cops.
I can hear the smile in his voice again. “I’ll be back in the evening sometime. Katerina will show you around.”
I put my head back, rolling my eyes.
“You don’t like her, do you?”
It’s unsettling to realize he can see my irritation.
“No, Sir.”
He makes a curious sound. “Interesting.”
The response gives away nothing and leaves me wondering what’s going on in that head of his.
“Don’t give her any trouble,” he adds now. Delight drips from his voice. “Enjoy your day, kravitsa. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
The phone goes dead.
I have to will myself not to throw it across the room.
After a long hot shower, I slip on the clothing Michael left on the door. Along with the dress, he’s left a pair of matching black lace panties and bra. The undergarments are the kind I’d find in a high end boutique in the Upper East Side, each probably costing my entire month of pay working in data entry. They’re perfectly fitted to my size. A neat trick, considering that my ass is at least one size bigger than it should be for my upper body, and no matching set has ever fit right.
Slipping the bra on, I’m stunned at how good it feels. The bra and panties hug my curves and feel light as silk, and the bra doesn’t pinch into my skin or fall off my shoulders.
I wonder if Michael was in the shop describing my sizes to the store clerk. It’s difficult picturing this huge Russian heir to a criminal empire standing in the middle of the lady’s lingerie department describing his captive’s dimensions, but how else would they know how to choose clothes that fit so well? He probably ordered them from a catalogue or something, but that image isn’t nearly as much fun.
The dress feels just as good, light, despite the thickness of the material, and smooth on the skin. The skirt is a lot more revealing than I would ever wear, and so is the plunging neckline, but I can’t deny that it makes me feel sexy as hell.
There’s a pair of matching white pumps that, like the rest of the clothing, are exactly my size. It’s only as I slip them on that I realize how he must know my sizes so well. He probably rifled through my damn clothing one day while he was in my apartment.
Fucker.
I throw my wild curls up in a ponytail and head downstairs, steeling myself to deal with the next few hours in Katerina’s presence.
She’s sitting in the kitchen waiting for me.
“Let’s get this over with,” I tell her.
She looks me over, taking in the dress, visibly noting my carelessly tossed up hair. Without a word, the amused shake of her head says it all. I can doll myself up all I want, but I won’t ever look like I belong here, or with him. Not like her.
The woman heaves a sigh and leads the way into the hall. “You know what?” She turns to me, snapping her fingers as if she’s just had an idea. “You said you can find your way around here yourself, yes?”
“Yes.” I can’t keep the tightness out of my voice. What the hell is she up to?
She claps her hands. “Since neither of us wants to spend any more time in the other’s presence, be my guest. You are allowed anywhere on the property you wish. Except the last room at the end of that hall.” She gestures down the hall behind her. “That’s Michael’s private office. All the gates on the edges of the property are locked, and there are security cameras everywhere, so you can’t get far unnoticed. If you need anything, someone’s always around to attend you. You might as well make yourself at home here. You may be here a while, after all.”
She waves her hand as though flicking away a small pest.
It takes effort not to widen my eyes at her. She’s letting me wander around here unsupervised? Suspicion crawls up my spine, but the reality is, the chance to explore this place without someone looking over my shoulder isn’t a chance I can pass up.
Studying her face, there’s no hint that she’s planning something. On the contrary, she looks relieved, as if she’s just gotten out the world’s worst babysitting gig.
Before my mother died, she always said courtesy goes a long way. I nod. “Thank you.”
With hope springing to l
ife in my chest, I keep my face neutral and start down the hall toward the library Katerina mentioned earlier. It would be far too suspicious of me to immediately head outside. I might as well make it look good by starting my search with somewhere innocuous.
Katerina said there would always be others around if I needed anything, but I don’t see anyone else on my way down the halls. Unless he has House Elves here, there should be staff everywhere in a place this huge.
The library turns out to be in the east wing, on the first floor. As soon as I step into the room, my jaw falls open.
“Wow.”
The library is a book-lover’s haven. Every wall is lined with books of all kinds, on polished wooden shelves. They rise up two stories, high enough to need those rolling ladders that stand in front of the shelves. Thick, plush lounge chairs sit between wide bay windows that let in plenty of warm sunlight.
“Jesus. Belle, eat your heart out.”
The library is as big as the one in Beauty and the Beast. The room smells of polished wood and old books. The only difference is the tablet sitting on a desk in one corner.
My heart stops.
A tablet!
No, it can’t be that easy, can it?
Grabbing the doorknob, I use shutting the door as an excuse to look around for a servant or a maid. I don’t see one, but there might be a camera in here too, so I’ll have to be careful.
I make my way across the room to the desk, casually, I hope. The tablet is hooked up. As soon as I touch it, the screen lights up. The indicator for the wifi is on.
“No way,” I mouth.
Flicking through the downloaded apps, I bring up Google. Half expecting the cell phone in my pocket to ring with a call from Michael telling me not to bother trying to alert anyone, I try typing in something innocent, like Youtube.
A page pops up with that irritating spaceship thing and a message that the page is not available. My heart sinks. I try several other pages, only to be met with the same unavailability message.
“Figures.”
He’s probably used some kind of app to block the internet. Well, I couldn’t have expected him to leave a tablet sitting here with access to the outside world, waiting for me to send out an S.O.S., but a girl has to try.
Maybe he’s only blocked select sites.
I bring up the kindle app. It’s filled with books of every genre, including several hundred cheesy romance novels, the kind Isabella always teases me for reading. One of my favorites, a biker romance called Trouble, comes up on the first page. It’s the first book in the Hell’s Heathens MC series, and I’d managed to get halfway through it before this shit with my father happened.
I shake my head, annoyance with Michael rearing up. Somehow, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he has books on here that I’ve read on my kindle.
I try going to the store page to buy the second book in the same series, Bedlam. Even access to Amazon would mean he hasn’t shut me off from the real world entirely. I wait for the page to load.
Page not available.
“Damn.”
I drop the tablet on the desk with a clatter.
All interest in the fabulous library gone, I explore some of the other rooms in the lodge, though what I’m looking for, I don’t know. Michael isn’t likely to have left a laptop or a phone I can use to contact anyone for help. According to Katerina, all the ways off of the property are locked. Still, not looking for something of an advantage would be foolish.
Of course, if I did contact someone or get out, then what? Where would I go? How would I avoid either Michael’s men or my father’s finding me? I don’t know anything about remaining off the grid or making myself disappear, and Dad has cops in his pocket, so I can’t trust one of them to help me.
Hopelessness creeps in, but I push it aside. I’ll worry about what’s next after I find anything useful.
Once I’ve explored every room I can access without much luck, I grab a long fur coat that’s hanging in the closet—Michael’s, I assume—and head outside.
The cold burns my cheeks and gives my nose an icy kiss. I’d guess it’s hovering around freezing.
As soon as I walk out to the front garden and make my way around the large property, I see exactly why Katerina has allowed me to wander off alone. Now that I have a chance to really look around me, it hits me just how remote this area is.
To the left of the front garden, acres of snow-covered hills stretch for half a mile. Beyond them, a forest marches all the way up to massive, rugged mountains. To the right is more of the same. There’s not a cabin or another living soul anywhere.
At the back of the lodge, a ten foot stone wall surrounds the yard. It has a wrought iron gate, half hidden by brambles. The gate is padlocked. I rattle it, but it doesn’t give.
I turn in a circle, looking out across those hills that roll to either side of the property. The acreage of unpopulated land seems to stretch to infinity. The desolation is almost overwhelming. To make matters worse, the snow looks crazy deep, and it’s cold enough that I would need better clothes if I’m going to make it very far without dropping dead.
Life tethered to Michael, condemned to endless days of humiliation and imprisonment, without human interaction except when and if he ever allows it, fills my thoughts, equally desolate and hopeless.
“Shit.” I yank at my ponytail. “Shit. Shit, shit.”
No wonder Katerina wasn’t worried I would get away. There’s virtually zero hope of that.
No surprise, when I make my way back to the front of the lodge and try the gate there, it’s locked.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”
I march back inside, or I try to. When I pull on the front door, it’s locked.
“Ugh. Really?”
The little bitch probably locked me out to let me freeze to death.
Muttering to myself about all the ways I’m going to kill Michael, and then Katerina, I search for another door. All locked.
Until I find the garage. I step in and let the door slam shut, grateful for the flood of warmth.
Automatic lights flick on, flooding the large garage in brilliance. A row of fancy cars sit, gleaming and perfectly polished. I’m guessing the limo is in the second garage, since it’s not in this one. This one sports a candy-apple red Ferrari, a silver Porsche, and a white Viper, among others.
“Whoa.”
I’ve never been into fancy cars, but Isabella loves them. She’d freak out over the Viper, with its sporty look and sleek lines. Still, even I can appreciate these beauties.
I walk over and run my hand over the hood of the Ferrari. It’s beautiful, but I wonder…
For a brief moment, I consider whether one of these babies would be able to bust through the garage and the gate out front. That is of course, if I could get one started. I quickly dismiss the idea and continue to scan the garage.
I tap the top of the car with my nails. My hand freezes when I catch sight of two snowmobiles standing near the back. My heart speeds up.
The hill to the left of the property isn’t as steep as some of the others, but driving down there would be too difficult in a car. But what about a snowmobile?
Dad used to take my sister and me skiing in the Alps when we were younger. Sometime he let me drive one up to the slopes. I think I could pull off driving one without getting myself killed.
I swallow, my heart in my throat as I make my way toward one of them.
This is the first real opportunity to escape that I have come across, but the realization is not exciting or comforting. Instead, the thought of actually being faced with the decision to run fills me with panic and dread. There are so many possibilities of what could happen if I took off on one of these snowmobiles, and too many of them could end in disaster.
God, what would Michael do if he caught me?
The man has repeatedly threatened to whip me, and that was for minor infractions. I can only imagine what he would do to me if I tried to escape. He might just
decide to send me back to Vincent, marked for death.
Terror rips into me, and I close my eyes, trying to get a handle on my breathing.
Standing in front of the snowmobiles, I look them over. Of course, there’s no keys in either vehicle’s ignition, but he had to have them somewhere. Would they be in the garage?
“You aren’t supposed to be in here, Miss Romano.”
I cry out and spin around.
Adrian is standing at the door to the rest of the lodge.
My thoughts race with panic. “Adrian.” I give a pathetic, nervous laugh that sounds like a sour note on a flute, clutching my heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”
He stalks over to me, his expressionless face even colder than usual. “What are you doing in here?”
Thinking quickly, I nod over to the cars. “Sorry. The cars. They’re beautiful.”
His gaze falls to the snowmobiles. Without him saying a word, I can see him putting the pieces together.
Busted.
“Where is Katerina?” he demands.
I stare up at him. There is no compassion, no room for understanding in his eyes. I won’t be able to bluff my way out of this.
“She said I could explore the lodge myself. Adrian, the front door was—”
“You aren’t supposed to leave the house.”
“She didn’t say anything about—”
“I will have to report this to Mr. Volkov.” It’s a surprise that regret darkens his green gaze. “Come with me.” He gestures for the door to the house.
Panic wells up, thick and choking. “Adrian. Wait.” I’m begging like a frightened little girl whose been caught stealing a candy bar from a corner store. Pathetic. “Adrian, Katerina told me I could go anywhere on the property I wanted. The door to the house was locked.”
“You weren’t supposed to leave the house,” he repeats coldly. “Come with me.”
There’s no use in pleading with him. It’s Michael I have to worry about. Resisting the urge to make excuses, any excuse I can, I follow him. It feels like there’s a heavy brick sitting on my chest.
Once we’re inside the lodge, Adrian leads the way down hall after hall. Before, the corridors felt warm and inviting. Now they seem too dark and narrow, the wood-paneled walls closing in.
