Page 6 of Forced Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #15)

The lock clicks shut after the door closes, and I’m left standing alone in the bedroom, staring at the wooden door and wondering how the hell I got into this situation.

My body is sparking with desire and tension. Not something I expected to happen, but apparently, the moment he steps close to me, my logic falls flat on its face and my hormones take over.

I shake my head and close my eyes, pressing my fingers against them to try and massage away the frustration, and how freaking hot he is.

The image of him looking down at me is still fresh in my mind. Whatever .

He can be as hot as he likes; it isn’t going to change the fact that I’m about to make his life a living hell in every single way I can.

First things first, I desperately need a shower and some fresh clothes. All the running and fighting and kicking and screaming—it turns out it’s quite a workout. That, and sleeping on the musty mattress on the floor last night. I just feel icky.

I walk straight to the bathroom and strip my clothes off, tossing them onto the floor, not in a neat pile, but spread out all over the place. I’m being petty, and I don’t care. The more annoyance I can create, the happier I will be.

The shower runs hot almost as soon as I turn it on, and steam quickly fogs the glass doors.

I step inside, and the warmth against my skin and my muscles disarms me.

For a second, standing underneath it, I fight tears and a flood of emotions.

I’m scared, even though I don’t want to admit it, even to myself.

I’m worried about what he has planned for me.

But on the other hand, why would he put me in such a nice room—and why would he marry me—if he was going to hurt me?

The bottom line is that I have no idea what he’s capable of, and I need to get out of this place as soon as I can.

The shampoo pours in a thick pink stream into my hand, and I lather it over my hair. It smells of strawberries and roses.

The conditioner is luxurious and creamy, and I let the scents wash over me like a soothing blanket. The calmer I am, the more focused I will be.

This guy has no idea the type of life I have lived with my brother; he doesn’t know how resilient I am to his bullshit and threats.

I can and I will get through this.

I’ll wait until tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep. I’ve snuck out of my brother’s estate so many times; those guards never caught me—I imagine these guards are going to be just as easy to get past.

After scrubbing myself from top to toe, I can think more clearly.

When I wipe the mist off the mirror in the bathroom, the girl in the reflection is no longer some dirty kidnapping victim—I’m me again, and I’m ready to get the hell out of this place.

Back in the room with a big white towel wrapped around my hair and another wrapped around my body, I take a good look around.

Right—let’s see what we’re working with.

The room looks like a normal bedroom. It could be my room, any girl’s room. It’s comfortable and simple and neat, and dare I say— cozy .

The closet is neatly packed with clothes, and as he promised, they’re all my size, which freaks me out a bit, because that takes meticulous planning. This Andrei guy didn’t kidnap me on a whim. He planned this over time. Weeks or maybe months . I don’t know. But it makes me nervous.

I’m here because he has it out for my brother. That much is clear.

But join the club, moron. Everyone has it out for my brother, even me, his own sister. Boris is an asshole. We know. Move on. Get over it.

I huff loudly as I push the next closet door open. What’s worse than the fact that he packed it with clothes in my size is that he chose items I actually like.

I’m going to pretend it was a coincidence, because that level of planning leans towards psychotic and not just being organized.

I slide my legs into a pair of dark skinny jeans, high-wasted and snug around the hips. Then I chose a pink crop top and a dark, short-cropped hoodie to put over it.

The neon pink sneakers immediately catch my eye, but I choose the ones next to them, the dark blue ones. I need to blend in, not stand out, if I want to sneak past guards later.

Dressed, focused and ready for anything, I start searching the rest of the room. There are a few hours left of daylight; that’s time I can use to my advantage.

After I’ve looked through every part of the closet, I move over to the drawers. There is face cream, hair products, a drier, hair pins, clips, notebooks, pens—

Hang on.

I pick up the stainless steel hairpin and grin at it as I roll it through my fingers, between my thumb and forefinger. It glints in the light like a beacon of hope. This will be perfect .

I slide it into my pocket for later and keep looking.

A knock on the door makes me jump, and I spin to face it, my cheeks heating as I worry that someone might see into my thoughts and know what I’m planning.

A quick look around the room for cameras makes me realize it’s the first thing I should have checked, but if there are any, they’re well hidden.

The door pushes open, and a woman walks in carrying a tray.

“Miss. Tatiana, I’ve brought you some food.”

“Okay. Thanks,“ I say, my eyes narrowing towards the woman while I search my memory. Lisa? Maggie? I can’t remember now.

In the doorway behind her, there are two bulky security guards, watching closely.

“I’m Maggie. I’ll be the one who brings you your food.

If there is anything specific you want, I can arrange it.

” She smiles tightly, setting the tray down on top of the dresser.

“This is tagliatelle, with mushrooms and creamy white sauce. I hope you aren’t allergic to mushrooms or dairy—are you? ” she asks, sounding worried.

“No. I’m not allergic. Thank you, Maggie. Can you tell me if the boss guy is still here? Andrei? Does he work here all the time, or does he leave, or…”

“Oh, I’m not supposed to talk to you about things like that,” she says hurriedly, turning towards the door to escape my questions.

I had to try.

I walk over to the food, and my stomach growls loudly. It smells incredible. I have a weak spot for pasta of any kind.

I could protest and refuse to eat. But a hunger strike would annoy me more than it would annoy him. I get super grumpy without food.

And it’s already been too long since I last ate.

The door clicks closed. I’m alone again. I carry the tray of pasta and fruit juice to the sofa near the window.

The views are really pretty, especially because the sun is starting to set, and the sky is turning beautiful colors.

Soon, I’ll be out of this shithole and free.

I recognize the city of Boston in the distance of my view.

We aren’t too far away. Thank goodness, I know where I am.

It won’t be hard to get into the busier part of the city and wave someone down to help me get home.

Oddly, the thought of rushing home to Boris isn’t as refreshing as it should be.

Boris might not be ideal, but at least he’s an evil I understand.

I eat my food slowly, savoring it and trying to stretch out time. It would be amazing to get some sleep, but I can’t risk it. If I fall asleep and don’t wake up at the right time, I’ll miss the opportunity to leave tonight, and I’ll be stuck here for another day. No thanks.

Around eleven, exhausted and impatient, I climb into bed.

Just because I can’t see any cameras doesn’t mean they aren’t watching me. I have to get them to believe I’m going to sleep so they let their guard down, forgetting about me until morning.

My eyes are heavy while I stare at the ceiling and wait for the right moment.

***

I’m guessing it must be after one in the morning. I haven’t heard anyone walk past my bedroom door in about two hours.

Tossing the blankets off myself, I quietly climb out of bed. I slip the sneakers on and slide the hairpin out of my pocket as I walk towards the door.

My heart is racing as I kneel in front of it and push the hairpin into the lock.

Holding my breath, I turn it and twist it and listen for the clicks.

One.

Two.

Three.

The lock pops open, and I take a quick, sharp breath in. I did it.

Slowly, I pull the handle down and pull the door inward, peeking out into the hallway as I do so.

No one is there. The coast is clear.

The door clicks closed behind me. I don’t want someone walking past and seeing I’ve escaped. I need all the time I can get before an alarm is raised.

It’s easy to sneak downstairs. But once I’m there, I realize how many guards there are. They aren’t patrolling the mansion; they are positioned at every single exit point.

The front door has two guys standing near it. The back door in the kitchen is blocked by a guard. The patio door that leads out to the pool area is guarded; the upstairs balcony with stairs leading down to the garden is also guarded; the door to the garage is guarded.

Dammit .

Andrei is clearly not taking any chances.

I’ve checked every exit I can find, and I’m trapped.

Chewing at my lip, I stand at the bottom of the staircase and fume quietly. What am I supposed to do now? I’m not going to lock myself back in my room. I honestly thought it would be easier than this.

Should I go and hide again, pretend I didn’t get out? At least then I keep it a secret that I can unlock the door…

Fuck that.

No, I think I should rather explore every inch of this mansion and familiarize myself with it. Maybe I can find Andrei and give him a rude awakening—let him know I’m not one for keeping in cages.

I had enough of that with Boris.

There is no reason for me to make my kidnapper’s life easier by being obedient and quiet.

After twenty minutes of roaming around, memorizing hallways and rooms, I hear voices. Rounding a corner, there is a glow coming from one of the far rooms. Big glass doors let light pour through them into the hallway. It looks inviting.

I sneak closer, recognizing Andrei’s voice.

He’s talking to a woman.

Late night meetings in the far corners of the mansion±—I guess Andrei has some kind of romantic affair going on.

I grin mischievously.

Well, I guess his mistress should meet his wife .

The door opens loudly, and when I walk into the room, I do it with my head held high and power in my step.

The best part of it is the look on Andrei’s face when he sees me.

His brows shoot so high he looks like a deer caught in the headlights, too shocked to move or say anything.

The woman he’s with is gorgeous. Her long blonde hair is falling over one shoulder.

She’s wearing a short red dress and black high heels with a dark black tailored jacket over her shoulders.

She’s leaning over his desk, looking down at something, standing very close to him.

The intimacy is undeniable. They know each other well.

Whatever is going on between them has been going on for a while.

Andrei stands up from whatever they were doing, and his eyes are wide as he stares at me. The expression on his face is delightfully amusing.

“Good evening, husband ,” I snap, letting the words shoot from my lips like arrows. “Are you having fun?” My arms fold across my chest, and I tilt my head to the side, letting my eyes drift over the scene.

Neither of them has spoken yet.

The lady in red looks confused.

She stands up fully, too, taking a small step away from him. I wonder if he forgot to tell her he got married less than twenty-four hours ago.

I smile at her, sweet and confident. Glancing at him and then back at her, I say, “Honey, I wouldn’t bother with him. Men like him don’t know how to satisfy a woman or keep her happy. I imagine his manhood is as weak as his door locks. Pointless and just there for show instead of function.”

I see a trace of curious amusement in her eyes. She looks from me to Andrei, her gaze narrowing at him. She opens her mouth to speak, but ends up just shaking her head in confusion and looking back at me.

I laugh quietly. This was more fun than I expected it to be.

“Enjoy your evening. I’m going to bed, it’s been a really long and shitty day,” I sass, turning away from the two of them and marching back down the passage.

I may as well get some sleep after all. It’s clear I’m not escaping tonight, but at least I made it beyond obvious to this moron that he can’t keep me locked up.

He does not have the upper hand here. He underestimated me.

And hopefully, I ruined his fun this evening. Maybe I even started a fight between him and his lover. That would be amazing.

Letting out a soft breath, I climb the stairs to my bedroom, and my thoughts drift in directions they shouldn’t go.

What is Andrei like in bed?

What would it be like to have his arms wrapped around my body as he moved against me?

I shake my head.

Stop that, Tia.

Go to bed.

Get some sleep.

Make a new plan tomorrow.

Instead of sleeping in jeans, I change into a cute pair of pink sweatpants. Almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, I drift off, too tired to think about Andrei or his girlfriend and too tired to plan any more escapes.

My dreams are full of haunted mansions and secret voices calling to me in the darkness.