Page 40

SASHA

I ’m going crazy.

I’ve been pacing the length of this room for the past two days, back and forth like a caged animal.

At first, I looked for an escape and tried the door, but it’s made from blended material as if it was designed to withstand bombs or something. I can’t even pick the lock, because it’s thumbprint protected.

The windows at the top are a lost cause, too, considering they’re made of tempered glass.

Since that asshole Kirill took away my gun, I’m completely defenseless and without a way out.

I glare at the bracelet around my wrist. The one I’ve been religiously wearing since he gave it to me on my birthday. I threw it down earlier, but soon after, I got to my knees to search for it.

Maybe there’s something wrong with my head, because I don’t seem ready to abandon this part of me yet.

The thought of Kirill’s upcoming marriage always brings tears to my eyes, and while I don’t expect myself to get over it this quickly, I also hate this.

I hate strong emotions.

The helplessness.

The emptiness.

And right now, I hate him .

The least he can do after he stabbed me in the heart is to let me be. But no. Of course the damn monster has other plans.

What? I don’t know.

I feel like he’s teaching me some sort of a lesson right now. Is he mentally torturing me? Maybe he’s testing my limits and how far it’ll take me to snap.

No one’s come around, and there’s no signal on my phone. A fridge that’s stocked with food sits in the corner beside a microwave, but that’s about it.

Under different circumstances, this place would be good for a small retreat. Not only does it look like a hotel suite, but there’s also a Jacuzzi tub and a huge cinema-like TV in the living area.

Needless to say, I haven’t used either.

And I have barely slept.

My mind has been pushed around and strained so many times over the past few days that I’m surprised it hasn’t given up on me yet.

The worst part is that Kirill hasn’t come around for over two days. Fifty-two hours, to be more specific. But who’s counting?

I’m slowly losing it, though. I’ve never gone this much time without action or something to do. And the worst part is that I can’t leave this prison until His Majesty Kirill decides I can.

I’ve been doing push-ups and using the few machines in the corner of the room, but those activities are barely keeping me focused.

After pacing for thirty minutes, I hop in the shower for the third time today and take an ice-cold one. Once I’m finished, I leave my bandages off and put on joggers and a T-shirt.

It feels weird to walk around with my breasts free, but they could use some air. It’s super uncomfortable when they bounce, though.

I stare in the mirror and wince at my bloodshot eyes. So yes, maybe I cried myself to sleep last night and kept replaying the image of Kirill’s stupid engagement.

When will I ever be free of these emotions?

My hair is getting longer again, reaching my nape. I swear it grows so much in so little time just to mock me for not being able to keep it.

I pull at it and then release a frustrated sigh.

Surely Maksim and Yuri are looking for me, right? Unless Kirill told them something that made them believe I don’t need help.

A creak comes from the front door, and I stumble out of the closet and run to the living room. I come to a slow halt when I find Kirill standing by the door, looking more dashing than a model.

It’s been only a few days since I last saw him, but it feels like forever. He’s the same person, but for some reason, he’s also not.

The jacket stretches around his bulging biceps, and the few undone buttons of his shirt reveal a hint of the tattoos on his chest.

He strides inside, his icy eyes filling with undeniable lust as he takes in the length of me. It doesn’t matter what I wear, Kirill always seems to be able to see beneath every layer of fabric.

It’s as if I’m always standing naked in front of him.

I clear my throat in a helpless attempt to chase away the lump stuck there. “Are you going to let me go?”

His attention finally slides back to my face, but that’s not necessarily a good thing. Tension lurks beneath his narrowing eyes as if they’re hiding something. “That depends on whether or not you’ve come to your senses. You’ve had plenty of time to think about it, no?”

“What does that mean?”

“Are you going to abandon that nonsense about leaving?”

“No! You can’t make me stay here against my will, Kirill.”

He adjusts his glasses with his middle finger, looking as cold as a statue. “News flash, I’m already doing that, and if you keep defying me, I’ll take this further.”

“Further…how?”

Is there something worse than keeping me as a prisoner and confiscating my freedom?

“You’ll never leave this place until you stop being stubborn for no reason.”

“No reason?” The emotions flow back into my words again, and I jut a finger at his chest. “How is being cast aside because Your Majesty is having an arranged marriage called no reason?”

He engulfs my forefinger, and the rest of my hand in his, then spreads my palm on his chest. More accurately, on the steady rhythm of his beating heart. My own heartbeat picks up and refuses to be brought back down.

His expression sharpens, and a tinge of strange emotion ignites in his light eyes for a fraction of a second. “That’s where you’re wrong. I never cast you aside. You’re doing that yourself.”

“Well, excuse me if I don’t want to be the other woman.”

“The only other woman in this equation is Kristina.”

“But she’s the one who’ll be your wife!” My vision blurs, and I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

Why do I get riled up this easily? Why can’t I be as detached as he is while he’s ripping my chest open?

Just why?

“Is that what you want to be? My wife?”

My lips part, and his words do a strange thing to my bleeding heart. The gaping wound slowly closes as if it’s been touched by a magic wand, and that’s fucked up, because I know for a fact that he’s just throwing me a bone right now.

I always knew Kirill excelled at mental torture. I just didn’t realize I’d be on the receiving end one day.

This is just too cruel.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” I sniffle.

“When have I ever lied to you?” He steps closer, killing the distance between us, and wraps his hand around my waist even as I push at his chest. “Answer the question, Sasha, do you want to be my wife?”

My fight wanes, partly due to his words and partly because I’m breathing his cedar and woods scent with each inhale. I didn’t realize how much I missed it and him until right now.

My fingers curl into his jacket as I take his face in. He’s so close that I see my reflection in his glasses—vulnerable and stupidly hopeful. But I still hold on to him, to the damn optimism and the smokescreen of happiness.

This is all I have left, and believing in the half-full part is better than wallowing in misery.

“If I say yes, will you make it happen?” I whisper.

A smile lifts his lips. It’s not cruel or condescending. It’s not sadistic or cunning. It’s…triumphant. Happy, even.

This is the first time I’ve ever seen this expression on Kirill’s face, and I don’t know why that makes me want to smile back.

His free hand strokes my cheek, and I instinctively lean into his touch, then it lowers to my neck, and he wraps his fingers around it as he whispers in my ear, “Fucking mine.”

He releases me as quickly as he grabbed me. “I’ll be back.”

I stare, dumbfounded, as the door closes behind him.

Once he’s out of sight, I run toward it and bang on the stupid metal. “You can’t keep locking me up, Kirill! Let me go!!”

No reply comes. I continue hitting the door for a few more minutes until my fists and legs ache. Then I hit my head against it.

What the hell was I thinking?

The fact that I even suggested being his wife is an anomaly in and of itself, but to also be rejected so subtly makes me want to scream.

Kirill is definitely a master of manipulation, because I can already feel the mental toll of this situation.

Damn it.

Damn it.

What if he keeps me here forever, and then I have to live through being his mistress?

Oh, God.

I won’t be able to survive that.

I straighten. No. I’m getting out of here no matter what.

The next time he returns, I’ll attack him and run away. If he doesn’t want that, then he shouldn’t have imprisoned me.

The question is, however, what if he doesn’t come back anytime soon?

* * *

Just when I think I’ll start hitting my head against the door again, it opens.

Exactly two days later.

I jump up from the sofa and grab my chosen object of attack—a heavy vase—and run to the door. My feet come to a halt when Kirill walks in with an older man while rolling a suitcase.

The vase remains suspended in midair. Obviously, I lost the element of surprise, but that’s only because I’ve been taken completely aback.

Kirill is dressed in a dashing tuxedo, his hair is styled to perfection, and his eyes shine with a rare gleam behind the spotless glasses.

My arm loses strength, and I let it and the vase fall to my side. “What’s…going on?”

“Wait here,” Kirill tells the man who’s dressed in a smart suit, has a small belly, and is wearing strong aftershave that I can smell from here. He’s also carrying a briefcase like some sort of accountant.

After he nods, Kirill walks to my side and grabs me by the arm. I don’t have time to protest as he drags me and the suitcase to the adjoining bedroom and closes the door.

I twist my arm free and jump away from him, my mind racing with countless options. I can still hit him now and run. That man outside didn’t look strong enough, so I can probably handle him—

“You should have everything you need here.” He pushes the suitcase in my direction. “Make it quick.”

Curiosity gnaws at me, but I don’t touch it. “What’s in there?”

“A wedding dress. Lingerie. Some makeup in case you need it.” He reaches into his jacket and then retrieves a black velvet box.