by Bella King
There’s something special about the tan-lines on her cleavage, and the highlights in her hair. It’s a reminder of a life that I never got to live, but one that I would choose in another reality. It’s carefree, something that I never got to experience.
Truthfully, the urges I’ve gotten around her may be centered around jealousy. She’s good, maybe too good, and I never got to be that way. I was stuck with the life I’m living now, forced into crime, and kept by an insatiable lust for power. I want to take Cora into the dark with me.
I sigh as I fold my hands beneath my head and stare at the ceiling in my bedroom. I wonder what Cora is doing now. Maybe she’s undressing, slipping her slender body into a gigantic bed with linen sheets. Is she thinking about me? Why has she hesitated so much in agreeing to marry me?
I consider calling her father. Eleven million dollars aren’t going to waste over this woman. I will take my money back by force if I have to, slaughtering anyone who stands in my way. I’ll kill them all and return to Russia, but I would never be able to live out a true rise to power that way.
No. I must stay put and be calm. I can’t get ahead of myself. Her father will only be contacted if there’s a real problem. Currently, there isn’t one. Cora is excited to get out of the Lauder Estate and start living a freer life. I’m her ticket out of there, and she knows it.
I chuckle to myself. Yes, that woman is theatric. She knows how to flirt and tease, and she knows how to make me feel like I might not have her in the end, but she will succumb to what I have to offer in the end. She knows that just as well as I do. This is a dance, and she is the dancing queen.
I’m curious to know more about Cora. She seems to believe that she’s simpler than she is, but I find her quite interesting. She knows more than she lets on, and she has a high level of suspicion toward me. I know that I don’t exactly fit into the dry political climate that she’s used to, but I’m not trying to appear like anything more than a handsome stranger.
Sooner enough, we will be alone, and that’s when the dance truly begins. When Cora is solidly in my domain, she will understand who is the one holding the ropes. She’s in for a lot more than she could ever dream of.
I glance at my bedside table, where Cora’s silver handbag rests on the scratched wood. She left it in the restaurant, and it’s the only reason why I’m still going to be able to marry her. Mrs. Johnson will be taken care of. That woman has no business snooping into my personal business.
The phone that Cora had with her contained messages from the Community Operations Manager, Mrs. Johnson, suggesting that I’m not who I say I am. Well, she’s right, but Cora won’t know that. I have made sure that Mrs. Johnson will be silenced and removed from her position before Cora returns home.
I had no need to kill her, thankfully. I don’t like killing the innocent. She’s much purer than anyone else at the estate, aside from Cora. She just got in the way, and now she’s going to retire in a remote location in Russia. Goodbye, Mrs. Johnson.
People are fools. They always think they can get in my way, but time and time again, I prove them wrong. There is no stopping Viktor Kazakov. It’s simply impossible.
I shut my eyes, imagining the delicious things I’m going to do with Cora before I continue my power journey through the political offices of the United States. She is going to be mine, and that’s just the icing on the cake.
Chapter Thirteen
Cora
“Do you know where I can find Mrs. Johnson?” I ask one of the bodyguards.
It’s late, and I can’t find my handbag to let her know that I got back safely. I need to speak to her, but I haven’t found her in her quarters. It’s as though she vanished from the estate while I was gone.
The bodyguard standing in the hall shakes his head. “I don’t know where she is, sorry.”
They’re never much help. I sigh and trudge down the marble hallway, poking my head into empty rooms, hoping that I’ll find Mrs. Johnson filing papers or speaking with someone important. She must be around here somewhere. Why would she leave the estate?
I’m confused, but as I continue to search the estate for her, coming up short with each room I check, I’m starting to connect the dots. She knows something that Viktor doesn’t want me to know.
He probably took my handbag and looked through my phone. I’m not an idiot. I can put two and two together. Mrs. Johnson knew something about Viktor, and that’s why she didn’t trust him. He pulled the plug on her once he found out that she was texting me. It’s the only explanation that I have for this.
I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, but I’m afraid of what else Viktor can do. What if I do say no to him? What then? Will he make me disappear, just like he did to Mrs. Johnson? Did he kill her?
I’m probably right to be worried, but I don’t think that I can do a whole lot about it. The only thing that I can do is try to get in contact with my father. He might know what’s going on. He might be able to help me through this.
I don’t have a phone now, but I know that I can find out in Mrs. Johnson’s office. I already know that she’s not in there, and if she’s gone, there won’t be any chance that I would be caught by her. I have nothing to lose.
I’m more casual in my stride as I get close to Mrs. Johnson’s office. I know that it’s none of the bodyguards’ business what I do around the estate, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m in danger. They’ll put me on lockdown, as they had done in the past when there were national emergencies. It would put a heavy kink in my plan to contact my father.
I might also be able to gather evidence as to what Mrs. Johnson knew about Viktor, but that’s a long shot. If she was that secretive about her suspicions with me, then I doubt she would have written them down on a sticky note in her office. Regardless, it doesn’t hurt to look.
It’s late, almost midnight, but my eyes are wide open. The pleasant buzz that I felt from the whiskey has worn off, replaced by a giddiness that I can’t shake. It isn’t from romantic excitement this time, however. It’s from the anticipation of solving a mystery.
The door to Mrs. Johnson’s office is shut, and the lights are turned off. I can tell because I can’t see the thin sliver of yellow beneath the mahogany door. Nobody is in, but I hope it’s not locked. It wasn’t when I took a peek inside before, which is unusual because Mrs. Johnson always locks the door at night.
I creep up to the door, looking left and right down the hall. There are no bodyguards present, but one should be making his rounds soon. He won’t bother me once I get inside, though, so I place my hand on the cold brass doorknob and turn it.
I hear a click, and I’m able to push the door open. I feel along the textured wallpaper until I find a light switch, but I go into the room and close the door again before I switch it on. I don’t want to attract more attention than is necessary.
The room is dimly lit, even with the light on, and the golden texture on the wall glints beautifully against the green carpet. I always liked Mrs. Johnson’s office. There’s a feeling of comfort to it that other parts of the house fail to provide. Even the lounge that I first spoke to Viktor in wasn’t this comfortable.
The phone catches my eye once I’m finished soaking in the rural coziness of the room. It’s glossy black and looks very outdated. Very nearly everything in the estate is outdated because it’s much harder to find good quality appliances now. This phone is antique, and probably much more expensive than its modern counterpart.
I walk lightly toward the phone, all the time wondering if I should actually call my father. He could be sleeping, and he’ll probably be annoyed that I disturbed him even if he’s not. He was never very nice to me.
I place my hand on the phone, my fingers sticking to the glossy plastic as though my hand was made of bubblegum. I raise it off the base, and a dull tone exits the earpiece, awaiting a number to call. I quickly mash in my father’s phone number before I can hesitate and hold the phone to my ear.
I want to slam the pho
ne back down on the table before my father picks up, but I can’t let myself chicken out of this. I can’t marry a man who might be tricking both my father and me. I have to check with him before I commit to anything.
Finally, after what feels like a millennium, I hear my father’s scratchy voice on the other end. “Hello?”
I clear my throat, mustering up the confidence to speak. “Hey dad, it’s Cora.”
“Cora? Why are you calling me from Mrs. Johnson’s phone?”
“It’s the only one I have access to,” I reply.
“Well, you shouldn’t. Did she give you access to it?” he asks, his voice already growing irritated.
I should have known this was going to go poorly. My father only cares about me staying in the house and following the rules.
I sigh. “No, Mrs. Johnson isn’t here. I don’t know where she went.”
“Then hang up the phone this instant. It’s late, and you should be in bed,” my father scolds.
“No, dad, you’re not listening. I have a problem,” I plead.
“What problem?”
I lean against the desk, pressing the phone against my ear so hard that it hurts. I speak softly into the mouthpiece, afraid that someone else will hear me, even though there clearly is no one else around. “I think there’s something wrong with Viktor.”
“Viktor?” My father bellows on the other end. “He’s a fine suitor for you.”
“I mean, it’s not that I don’t like him, but is he really a politician?” I ask.
“What nonsense are you going on about, Cora? I have arranged for you to marry him, and that’s that. I don’t want to argue the fact.”
I groan. “No, you don’t understand. He’s strange. His story just doesn’t add up.”
“Cora, I’m only going to say this once more. I’m not going to debate with you about your marriage to Viktor. You need to listen to me and accept his offer. You won’t find a better one.”
“What if I don’t?” I ask, but my voice dies halfway through my sentence.
“What?!”
“Nothing, dad. Okay, I’ll marry him. I’m sorry I called,” I blurt, trying to smooth over the confrontation.
“Good.”
The phone line goes dead. My father has hung up on me.
I place the phone down slowly, my head hanging low as my cheeks flush. I don’t know whether to cry or to scream, but either way, I can’t change the result. My fate is sealed in red wax and stamped with the official seal of a senator. I’m going to be the bride of Viktor Kazakov.
Chapter Fourteen
Cora
I send a messenger out to tell Viktor the news the next morning. I have accepted his offer to take me as his bride, and I assume he will take me to his home close by. I’m nervous about it, but it’s the right thing to do, given my current circumstances. I can’t delay this any longer, at risk of angering my father and throwing my whole life into chaos.
Viktor manages to arrive thirty minutes after I send the messenger to him, eager to take me from my home and put me in a new one with him. I wonder what it’s going to be like. Will I have the same level of security there, or will I have more freedom?
Viktor strides confidently into the lobby when he arrives, dressed in his usual black suit again. I look at his wrists to check for the tattoos I saw during dinner, but I can’t get a good enough look up his sleeves. It doesn’t matter at this point anyway since we’re already fated to marry. I have given my word, and only exceptional circumstances would cause me to go back on it.
“You look spectacular,” Viktor purrs as his piercing eyes fall on me. He seems in a very chipper mood, probably because he doesn’t have to hope for my hand in marriage anymore. He has it.
“Thank you,” I reply. “You’re handsome, as always.”
He tosses back his head in laughter. “You don’t have to lie to me, Cora. I know you’re just in this for the money.”
“What?” I ask, slightly offended.
“That’s a joke,” he says with a wink. “If you’ll excuse me for a second, though,” he says, moving past me toward the door to the hallway. “I need to take a quick visit to Mrs. Johnson’s office.”
My heart sinks all the way to my stomach. “Mrs. Johnson?”
He nods, a casual smile on his face. “I need to pick something up from there. She requested that I get it for her.”
“Wait, you know where she is?” I ask, frowning.
“Yes, of course. She has retired. Short notice, I know. She forgot a few things in her office, so she’s asked me to grab them for her.”
“What?” I ask, shaking my head. I can’t make sense of this. What the hell is going on?
“Listen, we don’t have a whole lot of time. I’d like you to get settled into the house as soon as possible. Why don’t you wait in the car, and I’ll be out in a moment?”
I’m stunned, but Viktor doesn’t wait for me to recover. He waltzes out of the room like he’s walking on a cloud, just as happy as can be today. It’s throwing me for a loop.
Mrs. Johnson can’t’ have retired like that. I got no word of warning, and she was just about to tell me something about Viktor. Why on earth is he going into her office, anyway? I seriously doubt that she sent him to fetch her something. She could just come to get it herself.
A heavy hand falls onto my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“The car is this way,” another man with a Russian accent says. I’ve never seen him before, but I immediately know that he’s one of Viktor’s men.
I turn with him, heading toward the front door to leave the estate. I don’t know when I’ll be back if I ever will. I had hoped to take one final walk around before I went to Viktor’s house, but it seems that he wants me out as quickly as he can get me to leave.
The man who ushered me out still has his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him as we walk out into the morning sun, and I almost stop in my tracks. I hadn’t realized that he was so gnarly. His face looks like someone took a potato peeling to it before throwing him down a flight of concrete stairs.
He looks down at me without smiling, then looks back up as we get to the car. “My name is Dimitri. I will be your driver from now on,” he says. “Viktor wants you to wait in the car.”
I’d rather be with Viktor than this funny-looking chap, but I don’t want to be rude. I climb into the backseat of the limo that’s waiting out front and wait for Viktor to come out of the house. Dimitri slips into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.
The inside of the limousine is so dark, and the windows are tinted so darkly that if I have just woken from a nap in here, I would think that it was nighttime. I search along the velvet road for a light, but I fail to find one.
The door opens suddenly, causing me to jump back in my seat. At first, I think it’s Dimitri climbing in to eat me alive, but it’s just Viktor, returning from his adventure in Mrs. Johnson’s office.
I hold my hand over my heart as he closes the door. “Jesus, you scared me,” I breath, continuing to hold my heart as though it might stop beating if I let go.
Viktor slides his hand to a switch on the door, flicking on a dazzling display over overhead lights that look like stars. “I’m sorry about that,” he replies, leaning back into the black leather of the limo seat. “Are you afraid of the dark?”
“A little bit,” I say, feeling more than a little relieved at the new source of light in the car.
“Well, I’m going to make sure you’re very safe, Cora. You don’t need to worry about anything,” Viktor says smoothly, his words rolling out like a snake slithering across the forest floor.
I suppose I should trust him, I’m in his hands now, but I still feel a tinge of resistance toward him. That might wear off as we approach the wedding date, but right now, I can’t get his visit to Mrs. Johnson’s office out of my head. What was he doing in there?
The limo begins to move, rolling through the heavy iron gates that once separated me from the rest o
f the world. I should be happy because I’m free now, but I can’t help but feel like I’m simply moving from one prison to another.
“What were you getting from Mrs. Johnson’s room?” I ask Viktor as we leave.
“Stuff,” he replies dryly.
“What kind of stuff?” I ask, tilting my head in such a way as to seem like it’s just a curious question.
Viktor doesn’t buy my act. “Stuff that Mrs. Johnson asked me to get for her. You shouldn’t pry in other people’s business.”
“But I know Mrs. Johnson so well. She would be fine with it,” I say.
“In that case, she would have asked you to get her things, not me. Clearly, you don’t have as close of a relationship with her as you thought,” he says, a hint of irritation moving into his deep voice.
The cheerful tone, the politeness, the gentleman ways – they’re all gone. What’s left now is the man I’m going to marry, and the veil is coming off his rugged face to reveal something much darker.
It’s what I expected. Everyone keeps up a convenient façade when they first start dating. Hell, I haven’t been quick so honest with Viktor as I should have, but that’s normal. We show our best selves until we feel like we got what we came for, and then all bets are off.
Two can play at this game, however. I’m not going to be so nice to Viktor if he’s going to be snippy with me. I need to establish boundaries if this marriage is going to work. I’m not as sweet and soft as he probably thinks I am. I’m a silent fighter.
Chapter Fifteen
Cora
“This is where we’ll be sleeping,” Viktor says, pushing open a door to reveal an expansive master bedroom.
“We?” I ask, looking at the menacing king-sized bed with black silk sheets.
“Yes, we. You’ll be sleeping with me at night.”
