Page 55 of Beautiful Secrets

When I toss it to her, she catches it seemingly on instinct. Then she holds it out to inspect it.

Slowly, she lowers her arms.

Ah, what a magnificent glower.

“This?” she growls. “I will not—”

“Careful.” I tut my finger at her as I sit back on the bed. This time I lounge back, my knees spread wide, and give her the slimiest leer I can manage.

She weighs her options for all of two seconds before retreating into the closet to change. This time the door almost comes off its hinges how she slams it behind her.

There’s a muttered string of Russian curses. Something thumps against the door.

I could get used to this.

21

Mika

“You can scream or make a scene, but I promise you’ll regret it.”

I am not sure what is more insulting—the fact that I know Cole is right, or that making a fuss had not even crossed my mind.

It must be the shirt.

He forced me to change back into the white one with the unicorn on the front. It is so hideous, I even considered disobeying him. But he threatened to pull me over his lap, and I could not afford for that to happen again. I am still recovering from the last spanking he gave me—both physically and emotionally.

So I behave like a good little girl, and I wear the damn shirt. And I do not make a scene. And when he slips an arm around my waist like we are boyfriend and girlfriend, I let him.

Because he has just told me we are going out tonight.

I knew he had to leave eventually. Thank God.

He is being secretive about where we are going, but that is not important. The important thing is that we will be in his car. And not on the freeway—at least, not at first.

Let him leer at me in this ridiculous outfit. I do not care. Because as soon as we hit a red light, I will jump out of the car.

It is late afternoon already. After Cole’s horrid fashion show, he ordered two pizzas and some sodas for the room. Then he tied me up and put me back in the closet while the repairman came to fix the intercom—again.

I heard him talking with a woman out there in the living room, but Cole had left me gagged.

We watched another movie while we ate. I have a feeling that is how Cole spends every meal. Perhaps because he is alone all the time.

I was starting to think I was wrong about him, that he was not in fact thePakhanof his family. But then he announced that we were going out.

We are definitely heading somewhere important. There is a strong energy coming off Cole, as if he is suppressing his excitement. His lips are constantly curled into a handsome smile, which makes concentrating on my escape plan very difficult.

He lights a smoke in the car and opens both our windows. A quick glance confirms what I had secretly hoped—our doors are unlocked.

But as soon as he turns onto the road and the car’s speed increases, those bolts click down.

Does that mean I cannot open the door? My heart starts racing at the thought.

“Where are we going?” I ask, as casually as I can.

Cole glances my way before replying. “The Asylum.”

My stomach turns queasy again. I swivel in my seat, watching him warily. “Excuse me?”