Page 22 of Dark Possession
I pull it from my pocket, my pulse hammering as I read the message.
Koka:While I will accept the downpayment as a gesture of goodwill, it appears there has been an error in accounting. The debt owed is $100,000. You have one week to arrange the remainder.
The breath leaves my lungs. My fingers tighten around the device, disbelief crashing through me.This can’t be happening. We had a deal.
A small noise of denial escapes before I can swallow it down.
Lev’s voice cuts through the haze of panic surrounding me. “Everything okay?”
I force a tight smile, quickly shoving the phone back into my pocket. “Yeah, just tired. I think I’ll go lie down.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t press.
I turn on my heel and hurry back to my room, my mind racing. How am I going to come up with another fifty thousand dollars? I’ve already sold myself once.
A dark thought creeps in, chilling me to the bone.
Maybe I could do it again. My stomach churns at the idea, but the alternative is unthinkable.
As I sit alone in this lavish prison, my mind twists with possibilities. How long does Lev want me? Am I just a temporary conquest, a toy to be discarded when he’s done?
If so, maybe I could use him to my advantage. And this time, I’ll make sure Koka won’t have any way of wiggling his way out of it.
The idea forms slowly, taking root in the shadows of my desperation. If I can seduce him, gain his trust, manipulate him… Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way out of this.
But the thought makes my stomach twist with self-loathing. This isn’t who I wanted to become.
Yet, staring at the bleakness of my future, I know I may have no choice. For the first time, I consider the true cost of survival.
And how much of my soul I’m willing to sacrifice to pay it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lev
THE MORNING AIR always has the scent of coffee; brewing it is one of Dima’s jobs before I wake up. But today, there is something savory. Unusual. I step into the kitchen, and the sight before me stops me in my tracks. The table is set—pristine, deliberate. A plate of food sits waiting, arranged too perfectly, like a goddamn magazine spread.
My gaze shifts to Alina. She stands at the counter, her back to me, a bathrobe barely secured around her waist. The silk clings to her, teasing at what’s underneath. But that’s not what holds my attention.
She made me breakfast.
I don’t trust anything at face value—not people, not gifts, sure as hell not food. Moving closer, I lean down, inhaling slowly over the plate. My expression gives away nothing as I straighten, locking eyes with her.
"Didn’t know you could cook," I say, voice flat, unreadable.
Her fingers fumble around a coffee mug as she turns, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before she forces a smile. "I thought...you'd like it."
Would I?
I slide into a chair, my movements slow, deliberate. She’s nervous. It’s obvious in the way she grips the mug, in the tension tightening her shoulders. But why? Because she wants to please me? Or because she’s waiting for something in return?
As I eat, I don’t take my eyes off her. The way she moves around the kitchen unsettles me. She acts like she belongs here. But she doesn’t. Not yet.
She keeps scrubbing at a counter that’s already clean, her breath coming unevenly. The longer I let the silence stretch, the more she unravels. I watch, intrigued, dragging out every second.
I left her alone last night, for no other reason than I wanted her in my bedtoo much. That’s dangerous. I won’t be led around by the dick by some female I know less than nothing about.
Best to put a little distance between us.
