Page 127 of Sins of a King
Thirst. I was parched. I headed for the bathroom. Sticking my head under the sink faucet, I drank greedily. When my thirst was satiated, I began opening drawers, but found nothing of use. Anger and fear pulsed in my veins, but it wouldn’t help me to lose my cool. I had to keep a calm, rational frame of mind. Locked in a room with no escape, I could do nothing but wait, so I went back into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.
I had no idea of the time, but I was hungry. My stomach rumbled as I looked around for a clock. No luck.
The sound of a key in a lock and the bedroom doorknob turning had me leaping off the bed—to go where? I forced myself to stand my ground, knowing the best I could do was watch and wait.
A handsome man of an undistinguishable age stood in the doorway. He had chiseled cheekbones and a firm jaw, brown eyes a shade or two darker than the styled hair on his head. Regal and powerful, I knew this man was behind my kidnapping.
“You are awake,” he said in heavily accented English. “Good.” His gaze dropped to the sheet covering me, lips quirking in amusement.
My hands gripped the sheet tighter.
“You know who I am.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
“Yes.” My throat was tight with fear.
He stared at me for a long moment and then strolled to the heavy wooden armoire along the far wall, flung it open, and grabbed a long black sheath dress from a hanger. He walked over to me and presented it like a gift. “Put this on,” he commanded. “And we will dine together.”
I swallowed and took the gown which was much more suited for a date to a gala. As my hand clutched the hanger, the man’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, exerting just enough pressure to let me know he could hurt me if he desired.
“Do not think to escape,” he said, his voice low. “No harm will come to you if you listen to me.” His brown eyes bore into mine, waiting for my answer. I nodded. He released me. I exhaled slowly.
What was his game?
“I will give you ten minutes to make yourself ready and then I will come for you.” He left the room, closing the door, making sure to lock it.
I didn’t waste any time putting on the dress and even went as far as searching for shoes in the armoire. There were none. When I glanced at myself in the mirror, I nearly blanched. I looked like I was wearing lingerie. The material stopped at my ankles, but the skirt was sheer with a long slit down the left leg. The bodice was form fitting, almost corset-like.
I felt like a whore, a kept woman, a trophy for a man who won all the trophies.
Fear morphed into terror as I waited for Igor Dolinsky to come back for me.
Dolinsky returned, and if I had a stopwatch, I would’ve bet it had been ten minutes exactly. His eyes raked over me in appreciation, but while I expected it to be lewd, it wasn’t. That surprised me.
He offered me his arm in a gentlemanly fashion and waited for me to take it. It would go a long way to humoring this powerful, unpredictable man.
Dolinsky led me out of the bedroom and down a hallway. Under different circumstances, I would’ve taken time to notice the opulent wealth and decor, but I was too caught up in my own head.
Why was Igor Dolinsky treating me like a welcomed houseguest?
We walked down a long, wide wooden staircase, and I had to stop myself from gaping. I was in a ballroom. An old-world Russian ballroom, like something in the time of Nicholas II, Czar of Russia.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dolinsky asked gruffly.
“It is.”
He smiled like I’d pleased him with my answer. Guiding me across the ballroom, he took me through a set of ornate wooden doors and into a dining room. A long table that could seat a state dinner was set with silver candelabras, two white china place settings, and a blood red tablecloth.
If I could get my hand around one of the candelabras, would I have the strength to bludgeon him with it? Or was it foolish to attempt such a thing? Even if I did manage to wound him, there was no way I’d escape from his home—surely he had security lurking in the shadows to prevent me from fleeing.
No, better to watch and wait. Keep my eyes and ears open and take my shot when I had a better chance of success.
Dolinsky escorted me to the seat next to the head of the table. He held out my chair for me and waited. I sat down slowly and automatically reached for the napkin. Dolinsky took his place.
For a long moment, Dolinsky stared at me, and I had to stop myself from fidgeting. “You must be curious as to why you’re here,” he said politely, still playing the gallant host and gentleman.
“A little.”
He smiled. “Most women would be crying and demanding to know what was in store for them. They’d beg and plead and cower.”
