Page 14 of Dark Possession
I messed up.
I shouldn’t have been listening to his conversation, but I couldn’t help myself. I should have kept my head down, my eyes lowered, like a good little captive. But curiosity is a cruel mistress, and now I’m paying the price.
Lev’s gaze locks onto me like a predator catching an intruder in his den. The weight of it presses against my chest, suffocating me. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t even move, but the message is clear—he knows. And that alone is enough to send a shiver through me.
“You need to get ready for the event tonight.” His voice is a blade, smooth and cutting. He speaks in English, though the sharp edge of his accent makes the words more menacing. “I’ll have someone bring you something to wear.”
He lifts a house phone, speaks a few murmured words to someone…Dima, perhaps, then replaces the phone in the receiver.
“Tonight?” I ask.
He lifts an eyebrow. “I expect you gathered enough of that conversation to understand.”
I hesitate, my pulse thrumming in my ears. For the first time, I allow myself the smallest act of defiance. I wrinkle my forehead, tilt my head, and murmur in Russian, “No, I don’t understand.”
A dangerous silence stretches between us. Amusement flickers in his dark eyes, but beneath it, there’s something sharper. Calculation. Awareness. He doesn’t buy my act.
He steps closer, the distance between us shrinking until I can feel the heat radiating off his body. He smells like expensive cologne and something darker, something lethal. The air thickens, charged with unspoken tension, and when he speaks again, his voice is low, deliberate.
“You understand perfectly,” he murmurs, switching to Russian with unnerving ease. Then his voice drops further, the words curling around me like smoke. “However, if you prefer, we can skip the event altogether. I’ll take you to my bed and continue to have my wicked way with you all night.”
A spike of something sharp and electric bolts through me—not fear, not entirely, but something dangerously close to it. My breath catches in my throat as my gaze snaps to his. He’s testing me. Pushing me. And the worst part? He’s enjoying it.
I force my expression into one of cool indifference, even as my heart pounds like a drumbeat against my ribs. I won’t give him the reaction he’s looking for. If he expects me to tremble, to plead, he’ll be disappointed.
So, instead, I lift my chin and keep my voice steady as I reply in English. “Fine.” I’ll let him sort out the ambiguity in that. It could either mean the charity event or bed. My stomach might be twisted in knots, but I’ll die before I let him see it.
A slow smirk tugs at his lips, like there was never any doubt. He doesn’t need to confirm that I’ve just walked into his trap—he lets the weight of the moment do that for him.
A knock at the door breaks the tension. One of the house staff steps in, head bowed. “Follow me, Miss.”
Lev doesn’t move, doesn’t say another word. He simply watches as I turn and follow the woman out of the room. And even as I leave his presence, I feel his gaze lingering on my back, a phantom touch that refuses to fade.
The ensuite is a palace. Gilded mirrors, gleaming fixtures, fabrics so rich and heavy they might as well have been spun from gold. It’s a world away from the cramped, modest home I share with my mother and sister. In this world everything is immaculate and untouched—except by those who know how to wield wealth like a weapon.
A steaming bath awaits me, infused with the scent of something fragrant, delicate. The staff work around me with quiet efficiency, drawing out the knots in my hair, scrubbing away the remnants of the day.
It should feel like a violation, like a reminder of how little control I have, but part of me is desperate to wash away the taint of the auction house and everything that accompanied it. I don’t even care whose hands accomplish that miracle.
Beyond that, there’s something else beneath it, something almost intoxicating.
This is Lev’s world. Opulent, powerful, dangerous.
Holding my breath, I slide beneath the surface of the water, letting it rinse and soothe and baptize every bit of me. The sounds above me—the chatter of the maids, the clink of bottles on the marble countertops—mute in the stillness.
I hold my breath as long as I can, until a concerned face hovers over me and fear seizes me. I breach the surface and suck in a breath. How long before this world completely pulls me under?
When I step out of the bath, the maids wrap me in the softest robe I’ve ever felt and lead me to the vanity. They comb and dry and torture and twist my hair into an elegant updo and move to apply cosmetics. I hold up a hand.
“I really don’t like makeup.”
The woman shakes her head. “You must wear it with this. A naked face will look odd.”
I grimace. “I look odd with it on. Like a child playing dress-up.” It was true. I had small, delicate features, and makeup tended to overpower them.
The woman places a hand on my shoulder. “You will trust me. I know what I am doing with faces.”
Left without much choice, I nod. I close my eyes as she applies the cosmetics with careful precision, opening them as directed at various intervals. I don’t look until she’s finished, and then I simply stare. The woman staring back at me from the mirror is someone else entirely.
