Page 124 of Bratva Jewels Box Set

My feet falter at the top of the stairs, my knees locking together. My body has taken over where my mind cannot, and it’s sayingdo not go downstairs.Then my kidnapper pushes the gun harder into my back, my body relents, and I descend into the depths of hell. I stumble as my wobbly legs slightly miss the bottom step. Thankfully my kidnapper’s hands are tight aroundme and save me from face-planting into the teak flooring. He lets out a disgruntled huff at my clumsiness.

“In there.” He shoves me toward an open door.

I stumble at the force with which he pushes me and my hands land on the bed. The sound of the door closing and the clear click of a lock echoes around me. I can hear the loud thud of footsteps walking away from my door, then back up the stairs.

Guess this is it.

I look around at the boat’s bedroom, my eyes focusing on how small it is. Claustrophobia claws at the edges of my mind as I stare at the single bed with its nautical-inspired bedspread. There’s a bathroom to the side with the world’s smallest shower and toilet. Guess I should be thankful that I don’t need to use a bucket to relieve myself. It’s a step up in the kidnapping game this time. There’s the tiniest of portholes above the bed. I rush toward it hoping to catch a glimpse of something to work out where I am, but when I look through it, I realize the porthole is just above water level and can’t be opened. I consider the thought that if it could open, I might hopefully be able to drown myself in the seawater.

I slump against the bed, which is surprisingly comfortable, and pull my legs up to my chest. My body shakes with the shock of my situation coupled with what could be the start of my withdrawal kicking in, and I sit there in a crumpled heap slowly losing my mind.

At some point I must have fallen asleep as I wake up disorientated and confused about where I am. Then everything hits me like a kaleidoscope of images, and I jump up and rush to the bathroom to throw up. I stay hunched there next to the toilet, still feeling green, the rocking of the boat not making the situation better as I throw up again.

Exhaustion must claim me again as I open my eyes and see I’m still wrapped around the toilet bowl. I throw up again, mywhole body shivering now, my skin clammy. I need a pill, just one to take the edge off, help me think, and to feel better. Frantically I search all my pockets for a pill, usually, I keep an emergency stash on me. Why can’t I find it? Then I realize I had taken it out because I wanted to wear this dress to Zoe’s engagement party and there was no room in the tight dress to hide it. I thought I could rush to my room whenever I needed my fix until I was snatched.

“Motherfuckers,” I scream.

I keep screaming as the anger and frustration inside me build over the entire situation. Something snaps inside of me because I turn feral as I begin to destroy everything in the room. I pick up the trashcan and smash it into the mirror sending shards of glass everywhere. Seeing as nothing else is in the world’s smallest bathroom, I move on to the bedroom. I tear the sheets from my bed and rip them apart until they are nothing but long strips of linen. Next is the pillow as I tear it open and thousands of white feathers pour out of it like a blizzard as they float all around me. My chest is heaving and every muscle in my body aches, but I continue my spiral as I spy the small TV on the wall, rip it from the wall, and smash it on the floor. My anger then turns to the cabin’s door, and I kick and scream at it, but the lock holds under my frustration. I destroy as much as I can until the room looks like one of those smash rooms where you go and get your anger out and smash things up. This was my private version of one of those rooms. Moving onto the next stages of anger I collapse into a heap and sob.

3

MAXIM

We’ve arrived in Sardinia, and I head down to get the girl to transport her to my home before delivering her to Dmitri. I open the cabin door, and my jaw hits the floor. What the fuck has she done to the room? It’s destroyed, every single item has been ripped out, every mirror smashed, and all the pillows ripped apart. It’s a complete mess.

I’m impressed. Destroying your captor’s luxury boat is probably not the best way to survive, but it is a giant finger to them. The girl has balls, big ones, I’ve held many a captive on this boat, some of the most feared men of the underworld, and none of them and I mean none of them have the balls to do what she’s just done.

I spot her amongst the carnage in a crumpled mess, covered in blood and white feathers like a fallen angel. Her blonde hair is wet and she’s shivering, yet her body has tiny beads of sweat all over it. Her face is pale, and her eyes aren’t focused. Is she sick? The smell of vomit filters in from the bathroom.

“Holy shit,” Sergei comments behind me. He looks around the room, then chuckles as well. Sergei then takes a couple of steps into the room to stare down at her. “Is she seasick?”

I shake my head, it’s the reason we were able to snatch her. Hugo was delivering her something, drugs of some kind but I never cared to ask him what it was.

“Wake up,” I call out, nudging her with my boot.

She groans and curls up into a ball.

“Woman, are you on any medication?” I ask, again nudging her with my boot to wake her up.

“Fuck.” Sergei rakes his hand through his gray hair.

“I think she’s withdrawing.”

“From what?”

“Don’t fucking know, but I think she might be a drug addict.”

Sergei frowns. “Dmitri never said anything about that. A jewel can’t be a drug addict, I thought.”

I give him a look as if to say,I think maybe being a jewel is what

made her an addict.

“Shit, we aren’t prepared for this. We need to get her out of here,” Sergei grumbles. He leaves to plan how to transport her back to our home on the outskirts of San Gimignano in Tuscany.

I stare down at this shell of a woman, and I’m confused by her. All the stories I’ve heard about the jewels include how much they adore being a jewel. That girls are desperate to be one of the elite women for the Bratva. They get to wear designer clothes and earn large amounts of cash. They have the most powerful men in the world falling at their feet, which gives them power, like modern-day courtesans. They always described the jewels as loving sex, as if they are nymphomaniacs. It’s a great privilege to be a jewel from what I have heard.

“What happened to you?” I mumble, crouching down to dust off shards of glass and feathers from her frail body. She doesn’t move, she doesn’t fight me. Most women in this situation would have their guard up and not be completely comatose. It’s as if mentally she’s given up. The destruction of the bedroom, herlast bit of rebellion before her mind says I can’t take it anymore. Is that why she’s taking drugs? Was she not strong enough for the jewels? The fluorescent numbers on my watch tell me it’s getting late. We should hurry before it gets too dark otherwise the helicopter won’t be able to land at my estate.