Page 45 of Pageant

The scarred one, he hates screaming.

Wiring women up to a lie detector that zaps them with electric shocks must be causing an awful lot of screaming. I wonder how many women have already been eliminated today.

“I have a question for him,” I say, turning to glare at the dark-haired, dark-eyed man wearing a tight black T-shirt.

Kirill flexes his head from side to side, a smile spreading over his face. He takes his time stretching his muscles before finally straightening up. “For you, Number Eleven? Anything.”

I twist my arms in my restraints. “Why don’t we make this fair? How about you get yourself into this chair instead of me so I know if you’re lying?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I thought a weirdo like you would get off on electric shocks.”

Kirill gives me a wicked smile, showing all his teeth. “Not one of my kinks. But good guess. What’s your question?”

“What did you do to me while I was unconscious?”

“Ah, yes,” he purrs. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. How much do you remember?”

I sigh and shake my head. “Really? Answering my question with a question? I’m strapped to this machine and I’m doing as I’m told. Can’t you give me a proper answer?”

Kirill saunters toward me. Taking my jaw in his hand, he murmurs, “We didn’t get far, but oh, the things I had planned for you,neordinarnaya. How beautiful you look when you’re asleep. When I locked you in that cell, I stood there for an hour watching you while you were out cold. Fuck, I was so hard.”

My brows draw together in confusion. “Me being unconscious…makes you hard?”

He lowers his head to mine and speaks lovingly, as if he’s begging for a kiss. “Do you really want to know?”

Of course I don’t, but I want to eat up as much time as possible. “Yes.”

The machine buzzes and my eyes fly open. Shit, I forgot about the—

Kirill whips his hand away a split second before pain bursts through me. I groan and fall forward against my restraints, my blonde hair tumbling around my face.

Youidiot, Lilia.

When I sit up, Kirill has his hand in the air and he’s laughing like a madman. “Did you see that? She almost got me.”

I shake my hair out of my eyes and give him a dirty look, like it was my intention all along to give him a second-hand electric shock.

Kirill walks over to the two-way mirror and stares into it like he can see the women on the other side. “You little liar, Number Eleven. But seeing as you ask so nicely about my dick, I’ll tell you anyway.”

I can feel the women’s disdain from the other side of the mirror as he seems to stare straight through the reflective glass.

“You probably won’t believe this, but when I was a boy, fifteen, sixteen, I didn’t know how to talk to girls.”

Oh, I can believe it. “Now you’re a grown-up creep who still doesn’t know how to talk to girls,” I fling back, remembering how much he enjoyed my banter yesterday.

Kirill laughs and meets my gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “How stupid you are to piss me off. You sleep in this place while I hold the key to your cage. Would you like to hear my story, or should we go back to interrogating you?”

I keep my mouth tightly closed and my mind blank. I don’t trust the machine not to zap me.

When I don’t reply, Kirill continues, “The girls at my school talked about me behind my back. Freak. Weirdo. Pervert. But I got my revenge. I walked the streets at night and peeked in all their windows. I watched them sleeping in their pretty nightgowns and they couldn’t stop me. They didn’t even know I was there. I could have touched them while they slept. Stuck my fingers in them. Screwed them. I imagined their faces as they woke up and saw me.” He turns around and rests his back against the glass. “That’s the best part, Number Eleven. The tension. Wondering when they’re going to wake up and catch you.”

A sick feeling spreads through my stomach. Did he actually do these things, or were they a fantasy?

He strolls back to me. “Everyone wants something that’s a little strange, Number Eleven. What gets you off?” He glances at Elyah, and then back to me. “Sneaking around with someone who’s beneath you? Pristine, perfect Mrs. Kalashnik in her luxurious house, getting railed by a tattooed ex-con. How many nights did you lay in bed next to your sleeping husband, fantasizing about his driver’s cock?”

Shit. How did I let him turn the conversation back on me? I never laid next to my husband fantasizing about Elyah, that would have been—

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