Page 130 of Sins of a King

“Why do you think you’re here?” He looked over his shoulder at me, and I was struck by the man’s beauty in the moonlight. Soft beams illuminated his carved cheekbones, and I found myself wanting to know his story. I quickly shut down that thought. To know him would make him human. I could not empathize.

“I’m here because I belong to Flynn. And you want to destroy Flynn. So, in destroying me, you destroy him.” I hated making myself sound like a possession, but for all intents and purposes, I was Flynn’s. My last name was Campbell, and I belonged with him.

Dolinsky’s sculpted mouth curved into a rueful smile. “When Chelsea first told me of you, I thought you were nothing more than a distraction for Campbell. When she failed to kidnap you in the parking garage at the Met, I was furious that she let you slip through her fingers. Chelsea underestimated you.” He shook his head.

“What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to anyone who fails me.”

I shivered at the coldness in his voice.

Dolinsky watched me with aloof brown eyes, his voice lowering. “At first I was irate, and then I realized what good fortune it was.”

“Why?” Blood was rushing through my ears, and I strained to listen to Dolinsky.

“You don’t destroy magnificence, Barrett,” he said.

“Stop speaking in riddles! What the hell do you want from me?” I cried in desperation.

He stared at me a long moment before his gaze returned to look out the window. He said nothing. In a blaze of anger, I stomped from the music room, wondering what the hell my life had become.

Chapter 39

Coffee.

Opening tired eyes, I let out a surprised squeak. One of the women who had served dinner last night was setting down a breakfast tray on my bedside table. She pushed down the lever on the French press, and I slowly sat up. She was young, blond, and didn’t say anything as she orchestrated my breakfast in bed.

“Thank you.” Dolinsky had spoken to her in Russian so I had no way of knowing if she understood me. “Spasibo,”I said suddenly, remembering the word from a long-ago episode ofSex in the Citywhen Carrie dated the Russian artist.

The woman nodded her head but didn’t smile, or say anything, and then she left. A wave of loneliness washed over me. I was isolated with no one to speak to, no one except Dolinsky.

I missed Flynn. Everything about him. He must have been out of his mind with worry.

There was no technology in my gorgeous prison—no computer or phone. I was truly cut off from the world. As I ate breakfast and sipped my coffee, I thought about my options. I could try to find something to use as a weapon and take Dolinsky out, but he was expecting me to do that. Even if I was successful, or at least managed to wound him, I doubted I’d get far—I still had no idea of my location. The cold snap of winter brought snowfall, and I wasn’t foolish enough to leave the comfort of a warm place and take my chances in the elements. Besides, even though I didn’t see anyone besides Dolinsky, I didn’t believe we were truly alone. A man like Dolinsky planned. I assumed I was well guarded even if I didn’t see anyone. No point in being foolhardy, and so far, my captor hadn’t shown me an ounce of violence.

I would continue to be wary and watchful, but for now, there was nothing to do except wait. Wait for Flynn to find me.

I finished my coffee and then headed for the shower. After, I padded over to the chest of drawers and found a pair of jeans and a white angora sweater. They fit me perfectly. I pulled on wool socks and then peeked out of my bedroom. All was quiet.

Instead of heading toward the familiarity of the music room, I turned the opposite direction and discovered the most incredible library. Dark wood, comfortable leather reading chairs, and a narrow staircase that led to a second tier. Shelf after shelf of books. More books than I could ever read in a lifetime.

“Good morning,moya krasotka.”

I started at the sound of his voice, not having heard his approach.I turned to look at him. Dolinsky stood behind me, his eyes watchful.

“Good morning,” I murmured and then focused on the gorgeous room. I felt like Belle inBeauty and the Beast. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

“You did not sleep well.” He came to stand by my side, his fingers reaching out to clasp my jaw in a gentle grip.

I tried not to flinch from his overly familiar touch. “No, I didn’t.” No point in lying. He could see the dark shadows underneath my eyes.

His hand lingered on my skin, and I held his gaze. Almost reluctantly, he dropped his hand and then gestured to the room. “What do you think?”

“Incredible,” I answered truthfully.

“Yes,” he murmured, though his eyes were still on me and not the library. He took my hand and led me to one of the brown leather chairs and gestured for me to sit. I rested my feet on the matching ottoman while Dolinsky went to a nearby shelf and picked up a book.

He walked over and handed it to me. I expected it to be a book by a Russian author but again, Dolinsky surprised me by giving me a leather-bound copy of theAeneid.