Page 9

Valentina stepped into the lodge, her feet echoing on the creaky wooden floor. Her sharp gaze darted around the small space, taking in the worn furniture, dim lighting, and faint scent of pine mixed with dust.

Her frustration simmered just beneath the surface, a constant ache that gnawed at her ever since Ilya broke the news of Aleksander’s involvement in the ambush and her father’s decision to be under Ilya’s care.

She had only spent a few seconds inside the lodge, but she already hated being stuck there, surrounded by walls that felt like they were closing in on her. But what cut deeper than anything was the bitter taste of being treated like a fragile, helpless thin g? like someone who couldn’t handle her own affairs.

She could still feel the anger boiling in her chest, especially after everything that had happened with her father. His decision to send her here, far away from any of her usual contacts or territory, was a direct blow to her pride.

Did they really think she couldn’t handle the situation? She wasn’t some na?ve little girl. Wasn’t she the daughter of a mafia boss? A powerful one at that? She knew the risks. She knew damn well how to protect herself.

Her father’s decision wasn’t the only thing that was insulting to he r? it was how everyone around her seemed determined to treat her like a baby, like she was too fragile to be trusted with her own mess. The fact that they thought locking her away in some godforsaken mountain lodge in the middle of nowhere, with no other person than the bane of her existence himself, nearly drove her mad.

The lodge was clean enough, and it possessed a kind of warmth she hadn’t expected from such a rusty place. The walls were lined with portraits, and rusty knickknacks were scattered around.

With a frustrated sigh, she marched toward the nearest window, yanking back the faded curtain. Her heart sank as she took in the view beyond: the lodge perched high on the mountainside, surrounded by towering trees and steep drops. The winding road they’d taken to get here looked more like a treacherous ribbon of dirt and gravel than any reasonable rout e? a harsh reminder that she couldn’t escape even if she tried.

“Are you kidding me?” she muttered, spinning around to face Ilya, who was standing by the door with his hands in his pocket, casually observing her. “You didn’t think to mention that this place is basically unreachable unless you’re willing to risk your life on those insane roads?”

Ilya straightened, his expression unreadable as he glanced at her. “It’s a mountain lodge, Valentina. What were you expecting? A five-lane highway leading straight to the front door?”

Her scowl deepened. “I was expecting… I don’t know, normal . It's not a death trap that’s impossible to leave. If I’m going to be imprisoned, it might as well be in a nice place.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “You’re just staying here for now until I’m sure it’s safe.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “So, I’m stuck here until you , my lord and savior, decide it’s best for me to leave. Perfect.”

The earlier argument, the harrowing drive, the realization that she really was stuck her e? everything felt like it was piling on, becoming too much for her to bear, and she had nowhere to vent but at him.

Her eyes flicked back to the portraits on the walls, now noticing the smiling faces, the way they all seemed to belong here. A family lodge. It was so painfully obvious now, even though she couldn’t fathom the thought of him and his siblings sharing such a tiny space.

She narrowed her eyes, feeling the tension rise in her chest. “So, now that I’m stuck with you till God knows when, what exactly am I supposed to wear? Is there some sort of mountain uniform? Or do you just let your guests freeze to death?”

Ilya gave her an almost bored look as he shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort it out.”

She scoffed. “Oh? And how exactly are you planning to do that? Are you going to pick out my clothes for me? You don’t even know my siz e? do you know my bra size? My panties size?” She gave him a sly smile, trying to rile him up.

Ilya’s lip quirked in a barely restrained smirk as he leaned back casually, his gaze steady and unashamed as it swept over her from head to toe. Val’s discomfort only grew. She was still in the same black lace dress from the night before, now slightly tattered, and her heels were long forgotten back at his place.

She hadn’t had a chance to shower yet, feeling grime clinging to her skin, her hair likely a tangled mess, but Ilya still looked at her like she was a masterpiece on displa y? and it made her insides twist in a way she wasn’t ready to admit.

“I don’t need to know the details, Valentina,” he said, his voice calm and casual, almost teasing if she heard him right. “I’ve got your body etched into my memory, even if I haven’t seen you naked yet.”

His words landed like jolts of electricity in her skin, and her breath hitched. The heat of his words struck her in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and the unexpected complimen t? or challeng e? flustered her, reminding her of the night before, how close they were for her to feel the heat of his breath in her face.

She blinked, realizing he was still shirtless from earlier, his toned chest on display. It was hard to ignore, especially now with the way he was looking at her. The shift in the atmosphere made her pulse quicken, but she tried to mask it with irritation.

“I… I didn’t ask you for your opinion on my body,” she managed to say, her voice suddenly tight, though the anger she tried to feign wasn’t as strong as before.

Ilya raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he watched her with an almost calculating gaze. “No, but I’m sure you’re used to being looked at. Do you enjoy it, Valentina? The feeling of men watching you, lusting after you from the sidelines? Do you put on tight little dresses like this on purpose? To give them a tease? A taste of what they can never have?”

Valentina’s eyes narrowed, irritation flickering in her gaze. “What’s it to you, Ilya? Does it bother you that I’m not out here wearing rags, waiting for you to decide what’s appropriate and what’s not?”

His smirk didn’t waver, his voice still smooth as silk. “It doesn’t bother me, Valentina. Just don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy the attention.”

Val scoffed, her temper flaring. “You’re just mad because you don’t get to play the game, huh? News flash: Not everyone’s desperate for your approval.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t put up a challenge for her to strike down. “If you say so.”

She stood in the small living area, feeling the uncomfortable weight of her frustration. She didn’t want to ask him for directions, not after everything that had already happened. So, she stubbornly made her way toward the hallway, glancing around, hoping to figure it out on her own. But, of course, she had no idea where the stupid bathroom was.

Ilya, who had been watching her with mild amusement, finally spoke up, his voice as calm as ever. “If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s down the hall to the left. First door on your right.”

Valentina’s jaw tightened. She turned to him, her eyes flashing. “I didn’t ask you before entering, did I?” she snapped, irritation lacing her tone.

Without waiting for his response, she stormed past him, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her with a force that made the walls rattle. She gripped the edge of the sink, her tired reflection staring back at her.

She was seething, trying to hold back the scream that had been building ever since she’d stepped foot in the cabin. It was the only thing keeping her from completely losing it.

The cold water of the shower was a shock to her system, but she didn’t care. She let it pour over her, the rust-colored bathtub creaking beneath her weight as she stood there, trying to shake off the tension in her muscles.

The water didn’t help soothe he r? it only highlighted the fact that everything about this place felt wrong. The rusty fixtures, the faint smell of mildew clinging to the air, and yet, the small comforts that still lingered in the bathroo m? like the new citrusy bar of soap by the sin k? felt strangely reassuring in their simplicity.

She spent far longer than she intended in the shower, letting the water hit her skin as if it might wash away the anger and humiliation, but it was of no use. The thoughts wouldn’t stop. When she finally stepped out, her body was cold, and her skin was pink from the chill. She grabbed the soft white towel, wrapping it around herself in a hurry.

As she stood in front of the mirror, drying off, her dress slipped from the precarious position she had draped it over the edge of the tub and fell straight into the water.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, scrambling to grab it, but it was already too late. The fabric was completely soaked, and when she tried to wring it out, it only clung to her hands, heavy and useless. There was no way she could put this on right after having a shower.

Fuming, she dried off as best as she could, her damp hair hanging limply as she wrapped her towel tighter around her body. She hated this. She hated being forced into this position, forced to ask Ilya for clothes, but she wasn’t about to walk around the freezing lodge in just a towel. Not in front of him.

“Deep breaths, Valentina,” she murmured to herself, putting a long-abandoned breathing technique to use as she stood in front of the mirror. “You’re just going to ask for spare clothes. That’s all. Don’t let him get to you.”

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped firmly around her body, she hesitated. There was no way around i t? she’d have to ask. She scowled as she walked down the hallway, her mind racing with the possibility that he might find some twisted enjoyment in her misery.

When she reached the room, she found Ilya already there, standing by the desk. He glanced up when she entered, his eyes scanning her body with an unmistakable hunger. She stiffened as his gaze skimmed over her exposed shoulders and cleavage, and for a moment, Valentina couldn’t tell if she was irritated by the fact that he was not trying to hide his stare or the fact that a defiant part of her enjoyed being at the center of his attention.

“I figured you’d be needing something to wear,” he said, tossing a pair of sweats onto the desk. He wasn’t smiling or frowning. Besides the darkness in his eyes from her appearance, he looked neutral. “You can change into these.”

Val frowned, but before she could make a comment, she noticed something different about him. His usual cocky smirk was replaced with something more genuine, almost caring, as if he were making an effort to give her space.

As she looked at the sweats on the desk, irritation burned in her at the thought of him joining the train of people babying her again. It wasn’t like him to be mincing words with her.

She glanced at the be d? the single bed that would inevitably be the new focus of their continued argument. Her mouth opened, ready to voice out her frustration, ready for another round of their tiresome back-and-forth about the one-bed situation.

But before any words could leave, Ilya raised his hands in mock surrender, exhaling with a resigned sigh. “You can have it,” he said without hesitation, offering it up with a calmness that was a stark contrast to their last encounter.

Val blinked, thrown off by his unexpected concession. She had been prepared for him to argue, to make some sarcastic remark or insist on him sleeping on the floor. But instead, he was simply letting her have the be d? without a single protest.

“Wait, what?” she asked, her confusion evident.

“You can have the bed,” he repeated, his voice steady.

“Are you serious?” she asked, still wary but now caught off guard by his sudden change in attitude.

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged casually. “You need the rest. I’ll manage.”

Valentina stared at him, torn between annoyance and surprise. She wasn’t sure which unsettled her mor e? the unexpected kindness or the sudden shift in his behavior. But with the exhaustion weighing on her, she chose not to argue.

“Go on and change into something warmer. I’ll take care of the heating,” he said, his voice low as he gestured to the sweats on the desk. “You must be freezing.”

She raised a brow, skepticism tugging at the corner of her mouth as she slowly grabbed the sweats from the desk. Without another word, he turned and left her alone in the bedroom.

A few minutes later, as she lay in bed, a strange sense of unease settled over her. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off with him. And she hated it. She hated this version of Ilya that babied her like her father and siblings. She preferred the version of him that was ready to get on her nerves and step on her toes.

Determined to know what his deal was, she rolled out of bed and walked into the main room. But she froze in the doorway when she saw Ilya sprawled on the couch in nothing but black spandex boxer briefs that clung to his hips, the outline of a noticeable bulge hinting at the sheer size of his cock.

The hearth behind him crackled, casting a soft, orange glow across the room, illuminating the defined muscles in his chest and arms. His relaxed posture made him seem effortlessly confident, and the sight of him caught her off guard, stirring something in her that she wasn’t prepared to deal with.

He caught her staring, his gaze following hers to his pelvis. Amusement flickered in his eyes, and a teasing grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice low and confident.

Val’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She scoffed breathlessly, “You wish.” And without saying another word, she slammed the bedroom door shut behind her, trying to block the image of him from her mind.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about his bod y? how he looked now and how he had glistened earlier, fresh from the shower, as he tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more than a feather.