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"But I don't like caviar."

His brows lifted. "Have you ever had it?"

It's fish eggs. Who could possibly like it?

"Well, no, but—" There were lots of things I hadn't tried that I knew I wouldn't like. I didn't say the last part out loud. God only knew what kinds of depraved ideas it would give him.

"Then eat." He pressed the bite against my lips. "Trying new things is the spice of life."

I huffed, pushing away his hand. "My life is already spicy enough, thank you very much. I think we both know I have tried plenty of new things since meeting you."

Pavel gave me a dirty smirk, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

I glared at him, but he didn't remove the fishy monstrosity from in front of my face. His silent demand was clear.

Reluctantly, I took the bite.

The instant the salty little bubbles burst on my tongue, I regretted it. The briny, fishy taste flooded my mouth, making my stomach lurch. I would rather starve to death than ever eat that again.

My nose scrunched, my gag reflex hit hard as the rest of my body tensed.

Everything about it was wrong—the texture, the overwhelming saltiness, the way it seemed to coat my tongue.

But I didn't dare spit it out.

Not in front of him. I had seen how much this awful stuff cost. Would he yell at me for wasting such an expensive… delicacy?

Pavel watched me closely, his sharp gaze missing nothing.

After a moment, he held up a napkin, silently offering me an out.

Hesitant, embarrassed, and terrified of angering him, I spat it out, quickly muttering an apology for not appreciating his expensive taste.

But then the words slipped out?—

"It tastes like a salty dead fish."

Instant regret washed over me. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut? Bracing myself, I waited for his reaction. For his hand to slam across my face or for him to grab my shoulders and slam me down on the table before getting his belt again.

But Pavel laughed.

Not just a smirk. A real, amused laugh. It sounded pure and spontaneous, like he couldn't help himself.

It unsettled me more than anything else he'd done. Laughter like that only came from joy. Could a man that evil experience things like joy without his emotions being contaminated with malice?

The entire situation was unsettling.

I was trapped with a man who could kill me in an instant, and every instinct in my body screamed at me to run. Nothing good could come after that laughter.

My eyes darted around the penthouse, flying over theluxurious space, scanning for anything—anyone—who might help me.

There was no one. No allies. No escape.

We were alone, and I was trapped.

My fate was tied to this treacherous man, whether or not I liked it. The weight of it settled like lead in my chest. I was stuck, and my time was running out.

My fingers twitched as I tugged at the hem of the sweater, wishing it were longer, thicker, and I could just hide from the world in its thick threads.