Page 104 of Captive Prize

My heart pounded in my chest, my mouth went dry, but when the door opened… my hope deflated.

Gregor walked in, moved to the foot of the bed, and just stood there, staring at me like a disappointed father waiting for his child to confess their sins.

It was a mind game; an old one.

He wanted me to speak first, to fill the silence.

Joke was on him. I preferred silence.

My back was against the headboard, wrist still cuffed to it. I shifted slightly, stretching the chain just enough to rest my hand casually on the carved wood of its frame.

My fingers traced the ornate curves as I waited. I would’ve preferred to tap my nails on the table beside me, or my foot against the floor, but that wasn’t an option.

I would take whatever control I could get.

The longer Gregor stood there and stared, the redder his face became.

I took more pleasure than I should have in my petty defiance. Just knowing he came in here to get under my skin and instead I had turned the tables and was getting under his felt good.

Finally, he broke the silence.

One point for me.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.

I recognized his voice. He was the man Roman argued with the day I arrived. He didn’t want me here. Roman had gone toe to toe with the head of his family…for me.

That had to mean something. I just didn’t know what.

“Because you haven’t killed me yet? Wanted to nurse me back to health before torturing me?”

He snorted, the corner of his lip twitching.

“No, but I like the way you think,” he said, face shifting back into its usual stone mask.

There was a table and chairs beside the bed, but he didn’t sit. He wouldn’t lower himself to my level.

In another overused power move, he wanted to loom over me. Use his size to intimidate me.

More mind games.

It was like all Russian bosses read the same outdated 1980s power-and-intimidation playbook. I bet he did power poses in the mirror before walking in here.

I wasn’t about to give up control. Not to him. Not to anyone. I didn’t care how long they stood in front of the mirror with their chests puffed up like Wonder Woman.

“Well, if not to torture me, kill me, or feed me…” I glanced around him pointedly. “Then I have no idea why you’re here.”

“I’m here to give you a choice,” he said.

I doubted that.

Men like Gregor didn’t ask questions they didn’t already know the answers to—and they didn’t offer choices unless they knew what you’d choose.

“Firing squad or guillotine?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow. I wanted him to see I wasn’t afraid.

It was a lie.

I was fucking terrified.

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