Page 25 of Lethal Devotion
8
SIENNA
Adam and I don’t make it down to the kitchen until it’s nearly lunchtime.
I slept in, which was a blissful, unusual occurrence. If it was just me, working the late hours that I do, I’d probably sleep in until ten or eleven every day. But I have a toddler, so that’s just not possible. I’ve gotten used to managing on four hours of sleep or so a night, making my way through the days and dancing with an energy that I don’t really possess at night. But after everything that happened last night, I fell asleep so thoroughly that I don’t know what could have possibly roused me, and I didn’t wake up until eleven-thirty, according to the clock on the nightstand next to the massive king-sized bed I slept in.
Not even the nightmares that plagued me all night could drag me out of the deep sleep I was in. I ran to Adam’s room as soon as I woke up, terrified that he would be panicked and afraid, trapped in a strange room without me. But I walked in to find him sitting on the floor, in his pajamas from last night still, happily playing with a wooden train set that I had no idea where it came from. I sat with him for a few minutes, reassuring him that this was all a big adventureand that we were staying with Mama’s friend for a little while, as a vacation, before I retreated back to my room for a much-needed shower.
Even with the nightmares, I felt better after sleeping in. I’ve never slept in a bed so soft or so comfortable, with pillows that felt like clouds and the warmest, softest duvet I’ve ever experienced. It must be what staying in a five-star hotel is like, except we’re going to be here for… a while, according to Damian. An indeterminate amount of time.
The thought scares me. The unknown of it all scares me. I don’t have a job any longer. I don’t have money, other than the cash that’s still in my apartment.
I don't have an apartment anymore, either. Not really. Not when I can't go back to it.
After Damian leaves, the silence in the bedroom seems impossibly loud. I know I need to go get Adam and take him downstairs for something to eat, but I find myself sinking to the gleaming wooden floor for a moment, looking around my new surroundings and trying to wrap my head around all of this. I thought it was just the exhaustion last night that made it seem so overwhelming, so impossible to fathom, but it still feels like some kind of insane nightmare. Like everything that’s happened couldn’t possibly be real.
Last night, I was almost trafficked. Almost killed. And now… now I’m married to a man who works for a Bratva crime lord, living in a mansion that’s extravagant beyond anything I could possibly have imagined.
I brought my own toiletries from home last night, thinking that the familiarity would be good, but once I saw the bathroom here and what was in it, any thought of using my drugstore shampoo and body wash, and lotion fled. The bathroom connected to my bedroom is enormous, with marble flooring and multiple showerheads inside the stand-alone shower, the huge soaking tub a completely different entity on the other side of the room. My hair smells like sandalwood and vanilla now from the shampoo, and my skin has a sweet honeyscent. It feels like silk from the lotion I found. I’ve never felt so soft in my entire life.
I dried off with a plush towel that wrapped around my entire body, and I’m surrounded by so much luxury that I don’t know how to make sense of it… but it can’t erase what happened. None of it could wash away the fear and confusion of last night, and what I’m now a part of, even though I would never have chosen to be.
All my choices were taken away last night. All except for one—marry Damian, or die.
Which wasn’t really a choice.
And nothing that’s happened since then has made me think that he’s lying. He certainly didn’t bring me here because he wanted to fuck me. My cheeks burn all over again at the memory of how he looked at me when he walked in on me changing, and how he refused to touch me all the same.
It doesn’t make sense, based on my knowledge of men. Men who have a beautiful woman under their power take what they want with that power. It’s just how things are. Especially men like Damian.
I bite my lip, pushing myself up from the floor.Maybe it’s a game.He’s a brutal, calculated man, and he’s married me and stashed me away here. Maybe he wants me to pursue him, to show him how grateful I am, how willing I am to please him in order to keep that protection. The thought makes my face heat, shame washing over me at the idea of groveling for a man’s protection, but what other choice do I have?
The thought that Damian might simply not expect anything else from me in exchange for his protection, this roof over our heads, and everything else he’s offered, makes no sense. It can’t be what’s really happening here. There’s more to it, and I just have to figure out how to appeal to him, what game it is that he wants to play.
Apprehension twists in my stomach at the thought of trying to figure out a man like Damian Kutnezsov, what he might want, what might please him, but I push it out of my head for now. It would be easier, somehow, if he just took what he wanted, but I’ll do what I need to do.
And for now, what I need to do is get my son and find out where we can get some food. I’m starving, and I know if I am, then he must be hungry too.
Adam is reluctant to leave his train set, but the promise of a special breakfast gets him dressed and into my arms. I settle him on my hip, feeling entirely out of place as I head out of the bedroom and toward the stairs, aware of how I must look if anyone sees me. I’m wearing a twenty-dollar pair of jeans and a five-dollar T-shirt, both thrifted, and Adam’s clothes are pretty much the same, although everything we’re wearing is neat and clean. Still, I feel like we both stand out here, surrounded by mahogany and crystal and marble.
It takes me what feels like twenty minutes and asking two separate staff members to find the way to the kitchen. It’s nearly one in the afternoon when we walk in, judging by the clock on the wall, and I see the same woman who was woken up last night to get us settled standing at the counter, assembling plates of food. The kitchen smells heavenly, like grilled meat and tangy cheese, and my stomach rumbles loudly enough for her to turn around and see me hovering in the doorway.
“Ah, Damian’s wife.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “And your adorable little boy. I brought him up that train set this morning. It was in the attic with some of Konstantin’s old things, from when he was a child. He’ll never know it’s been moved.” She chuckles at her own joke, and I try to crack a nervous smile.
“Thank you. I slept in so much later than I meant to. That really helped keep him entertained.”
Her smile widens. "Such a sweet boy. He was very polite when I brought it to him this morning. You’ve raised him well."
“Thanks,” I manage again, feeling awkward. “I, um…”
I don’t know how to ask about lunch. I’ve never in my wildest dreams imagined havingstaffto get me anything, but there’s a housekeeper-slash-cook right in front of me, and I don’t know what to do. Lunch at home means throwing together a salad for myself and some mac and cheese for Adam, or whatever we have in the house that’sedible. I have no idea what’s on the plates behind Mrs. Horvat, but I’d be willing to bet it’s not something I’ve eaten before.
“Food.” She claps her hands together. “You and the little one must be starving. Sit down.” She motions to a table at the far end of the kitchen, square and made of cedar with four chairs. It’s clearly for the help, but it’s still nicer than any of the furniture in my apartment.
Was, I correct myself silently, feeling a small pang in my chest. I’m under no illusions that we’ll be going back there. Damian isn’t going to pay my rent on an apartment that he’s of the opinion I would be better off not returning to, and I have no means of paying it myself. I still don’t know what to make of his suggestion that we start over after this with new identities. If there really is that much danger… but the thought of becoming someone else, of starting over entirely new, sends a different sort of fear through me.
Don’t think about it right now,I remind myself as I settle Adam in at the table. I have enough to worry about right now without thinking so far into the future. Adam’s awe at his surroundings is enough to momentarily distract me, as he looks around the kitchen wide-eyed.
