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For a moment I am frozen in place.
“Okay.” I sound stupid.
She smiles.
“Let’s go see what ingredients we have, then.” I walk towards her, and she slips her arm around my bicep. I dare not react to it, in case I push her away.
We walk through to the kitchen and she slides herself onto the countertop with her legs swinging comfortably.
I search in the fridge and pull out a few things. “How about tacos?”
“That sounds divine. I don’t really know how to make them. though.”
“I can teach you.”
She nods, smiling.
While we cook, she is laughing and teasing me a little. She seems more relaxed than she has in a long time and I can’t help but think to myself, damn, Darya was right.
I want to talk to Jennifer about my day, to tell her what has been happening in my life, but I am so worried. What if she finds out the other side of who I am? That I torture people for information? How I have run my business? What my world is really about? What she knows about my world is what she has seen for herself—during her horrific experience in that container with Alexander’s men. My brothers and I are not part of that disgusting behavior, and I don’t want her to find out certain things about me and then group us in the same category as those men.
I know she can’t comprehend what I am capable of, and I don’t know if I want her to know.
I have done dark things in my life. Will she hate me because of it?
I want to allow her to be closer to me. I want her to accept me for who I really am, to see me for who I am, but I feel as though I have to hide parts of myself from her.
She turns towards me with a smile on her face and a smear of sauce across her cheek.
I grin and brush my thumb across her cheek to wipe it away. “The sauce belongs on the tacos.” I chuckle.
She turns back to stirring the sauce and I lean over her with my body against hers. She does not move away or push me aside, so I stay there, enjoying being so close to her.
This is what I want. This is what I have always wanted. I don’t know how long this will last, but I do know that my sister was right about smothering her—about giving her the chance to make her own choice and to choose to spend time with me.
I can’t force this. Despite it being so difficult for me to do, I need to try harder to give her more freedom. Leaning against her like this is making me question my ability to control myself, though. I don’t want to force myself onto her. I told her that she has to obey my every command and she has been doing that. If I kiss her now or make a move, I don’t know if she will be responding out of her own free will or because she wants to keep her friend safe.
I force myself to push away from her and turn my focus back to making our food. I feel myself pull away a little, even though it tears at my insides.
When I glance over at her I can see there is hurt in her eyes.
What am I supposed to do?
Chapter 15 - Jennifer
I am still trying to process the fact that I am pregnant, never mind everything else that has been going on. I am doing my best to settle into my new life and this very structured routine that Kiril has me locked into. It is not easy at all, but what choice do I have?
How can I complain, anyway? I do have everything I need. And if I need something else it is brought to me quickly. Whatever I want, I get. I know that is not the be-all and end-all of things, but it is some kind of luxury I should appreciate.
I guess the problem is that I don’t want things as much as I want freedom and genuine connection. I wish I could feel like this was my home, but it just doesn’t. I can’t come and go as I please. I can’t pop out to the shops and get a takeaway coffee. I can’t walk around the mall or along the river. I can’t do anything. I am not allowed to.
I can’t leave the house, because Kiril is afraid someone might recognize me, and those same men will find me again.
It has been a week since Kiril confronted me about everything he found out and it has essentially been a week of hell. My emotions are all over the place and my pregnancy is not helping the situation as I feel tearful all the time.
Obviously, I feel terrible about the fact that he found out the way he did. I keep reprimanding myself in my mind. I should have told him. I should have trusted that he would know what to do. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea for me to handle it on my own.
I was scared for my friend’s life, but why didn’t I think that he could do something about it? He seems to hold a lot of power. I know there is a lot about him that I don’t know. I am sure, without a doubt actually, that he has done things that would make my skin crawl—especially when it comes to protecting his family. Yet, I know another side of him. This softer side. I have seen how he takes care of me, how he tends to every single one of my needs, often before I even ask for or mention something. I have seen how he reacts when I am sick or hurt or upset. He is a beautiful person. I don’t want to think these thoughts, because he is holding me captive, but I can’t deny what I have witnessed for myself.
