Page 9 of The Bratva's Forced Kidnapped Bride
There was an adjoining bathroom that was fully stocked with apple-scented shampoo and conditioner, a new toothbrush, and a fresh tube of toothpaste. The closet had thick towels and a pair of slippers, and there was a plush robe hanging on the back of the door. Finally, I went into the bedroom closet, ignoring the clothing items hanging on the racks, to inspect the ceiling. Sometimes houses had openings to attics or crawl spaces located in the closets, but this wasn’t one of them.
Sick to death of the red dress that screamed my mistakes at me, I took it off and got a hot shower. As the stinging spray washed over me, I let a few tears fall for August and Viktor, but allowing sorrow to overwhelm me wouldn’t help my situation. They wouldn’t have wanted me to be distracted when I needed to keep my wits about me.
Wrapped up in the cozy white robe, I sat on the bed again, trying not to gnaw on my lip, a bad habit that popped up in moments of high stress. This was definitely one of those moments.
When I heard the door unlocking from the outside, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Holding the robe tightly around me, I hurried to the side of the door, ready to attack as soon as Anatoli opened it. Other than the paintings on the walls, the room was devoid of other decorative items, so nothing useful to bash him over the head. He was probably wishing he’d thought to clear out the stuff on the table in the entryway nowthat I’d smashed his patrician nose in with one of the artsy paperweights.
The door swung open, but no one entered. “I’m bringing food,” an unknown voice said. “Attack me, and I take it away.”
Damn it. My stomach was twisting with hunger, and I could smell something delicious wafting in from the hall. The odds were against me getting far, even if I managed to overpower this guard, who was clearly ready for me. I showed myself and held up my hands, glaring at him wordlessly.
Just as wordlessly, he set a tray on the floor just inside the door and left, the click of the lock seeming to echo around my room. Maybe Anatoli wasn’t underestimating me so much after all if he warned his guard to watch out.
I fell on the food like a wild dog, sitting on the floor and shoveling in the warm rolls that were already slathered with butter. I had skipped breakfast before I headed out to the coffee shop that morning, so it had been well over twenty-four hours since I had last eaten.
It wasn’t just bread and water, either, but a generous spread. The steak was perfectly seared, the sweet corn crispy and as buttery as the bread. A salad of baby greens had a light splash of vinaigrette, just the way I liked it.
Halfway through the meal, I stopped with my fork right in front of my mouth. What the hell was Anatoli up to? A luxurious room, a hot shower, and fantastic food.
Was this my last meal? Or was he going for psychological torture instead of physical?
It was a miracle I was still alive, but what was he after if he meant to keep me that way? Why wasn’t I tied to a chair getting whipped or burnt or having hot pokers shoved—okay,I had to stop thinking that way. It was making the food less delicious.
Could he really expect me to be his wife? And do everything that entailed? There was no way. He’d suffer a lot more broken bones if that were the case. He was fucking with me, nothing more. As soon as I was finished eating, he’d burst in and drag me away, making me suffer.
Except that never happened. I stayed awake for hours, listening with my ear to the door, jumping at the slightest squeak down the hall, but nothing else happened. It seemed like the psychological angle was working. I was getting spooked.
It was pure exhaustion that had me falling onto the soft bed and eventually passing out. And that must have been what he was waiting for. Sun was streaming in through the open curtains when he slammed into the room, jolting me awake. He took up the entire doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at me.
Just stared at me.
I threw back the covers and jumped up, staring right back. Even with tape across his nose and two black eyes, he was disgustingly handsome, which put me in a worse mood. His good looks had always pissed me off, from the very moment I first clapped eyes on him. Which wasn’t even him in the flesh, but a picture some society blogger had managed to get at a charity ball he went to.
As his alter ego, the elusive tech billionaire Terrence Hendricks, he rarely went out, and while everyone knew about him, there were people in Silicon Valley who’d never seen him. I knew now that he was coming out of hiding back then to goad us into a fight. We’d stepped into his trap but had comeout victorious, and he was probably furious he’d lost so much ground and had to go into hiding.
Remembering better days did nothing to fix the present. I was at his mercy. With nothing to throw at him but the feather pillows on the bed, or nothing to hold in my fist to make my punches stronger, he had the upper hand. Oh, and the fact that I was locked in his secluded mansion in the middle of the desert wasn’t on my side either.
“Good morning, Mrs. Ovinko,” he said.
Right. I had blocked that part out. I was also married to the son of a bitch. I shook my head, a hundred insults crowding into my mind. The only thing keeping me from cursing him was the fact that he’d only laugh. He stepped closer, dropping his arms to his sides, big hands loose and ready to grab me at the slightest attempt to jet past him. I was still groggy from what little sleep I managed after waiting for the worst to happen for most of the night, and still only wearing the bathrobe.
The closets were full of clothes, including comfy pajamas, but stubbornness had kept me from partaking in his false generosity. Now I realized that the robe was hanging half open, revealing way too much skin. His gray eyes darkened as they raked over me, and I hurriedly yanked it shut and tied it tight. A flicker of his lip made me want to slap him as he kept his gaze on my body.
“Get dressed,” he said, pointing to the closet, then looking at his expensive watch. “Five minutes.”
I stayed where I was, sitting in bed with the covers in a tangle at my feet. With a shrug, Anatoli was at the bedside in a blink, dragging me up and hauling me to the closet.
“I will dress you myself if you don’t emerge from here in…” he consulted his watch again. “Four and a half minutes.”
The door slammed, leaving me in darkness until I found the switch to turn on the light. Maybe I should have been grateful he wasn’t going to watch me, but I had no good thoughts toward him at the moment. Hurriedly throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with a damn heart on it of all things, I stepped out just as he was reaching for the door handle.
“That couldn’t have been four minutes,” I snapped.
“I’m feeling impatient today,” he answered, smirking at the heart on my shirt before licking his lips.
“Got a big day planned?” I asked, trying not to start shaking. He looked way too full of anticipation for my liking. Or probably for my well-being. How long until that stupid sweatshirt was in tatters from his knives?
He wrapped his hand around my arm and tugged me toward the door. “You’ll see,” he said.
