AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She doesn’t even try to make conversation and expects me to trail after her like a lovesick puppy.
I have no choice because Mikhail’s parting shot made my blood boil. Restrain her if you must. The guy’s a fucking joke.
He has already demonstrated that I’m not getting out of here. He has a small army on my tail, which tells me I wouldn’t get far. Katerina is no use to me either. I already know she will never help me. It’s written in her disapproving eyes, and I sigh inside. The best thing I can do is everything I’m told until Mikhail gets bored playing with me as much as I hate the prospect of that actually happening.
Have I got Stockholm syndrome, as well as the weight of the word on my shoulders?
Why do I crave every word from his lips and every glance in my direction? I hate him, yet I want him. He repels me but excites me at the same time. I want his body and I don’t want his mind. He is one conflicting bundle of emotion that I must learn how to deal with.
I’m sure most women would be ecstatic about the next few hours. Katerina escorts me to a suite of rooms that causes my mouth to drop. This entire place is wealth on a scale I have never seen before, and I stare around the space that is designer chic with no expense spared. Marble, silk, soft lighting, and furniture so pristine I don’t want to touch it in case I leave dirty finger marks.
Katerina is sophisticated perfection, and it’s as if she has just fallen off a production line for beautiful women. There is not a blemish on her face, or a crease in her tight-fitting dress. Her expression is always blank, and her demeanor is business-like.
We sit together at a glass table overlooking the city and she arranges for some hot tea and cinnamon buns to be delivered.
Then she sits beside me with a file, and we run through everything.
First is a clothing checklist where she demands my sizes, making me stand while she measures me like the most attentive tailor. She arranges a hair appointment with one of the finest hairdressers who will call in after he finishes work, apparently. I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled where I will be examined, tested and prescribed birth control.
I shrivel in my seat when she speaks as if I’m not human at all.
Through it all, I say nothing because I’m not even sure I understand what’s happening to question it.
I’m grilled about any food intolerances, allergies, or phobias. I’m to provide her with a list of past and present boyfriends and any one-night stands. I can’t even look at her because I am so mortified at this line of questioning. She wants to know if I’ve ever had a std or visited the sexual diseases clinic.
I’m to sign over access to my medical records and list any bank accounts I have. My past schools, addresses and friends are all written down on several forms that make my eyes water at the number of them.
My entire life is detailed on those forms and if she wasn’t so freaking scary, I would tell her to fuck the hell off, but Mikhail’s words are ringing in my ears.
Restrain her if you must.
I’m his prisoner. He’s made that pretty obvious, but to what degree? Will I enjoy any personal space away from the man? Will I always be watched because I tried to dispose of a piece of shit? What business is it of his, anyway?
I’m getting a headache and am relieved when she collates the form together and says firmly, “I have arranged for lunch to be served in here. You will eat alone while I arrange what we have discussed. In exactly one hour, you will be collected, and we will familiarize you with your closet and duties.”
“Duties?” What on earth am I required to do and Katerina barks, “Your job while you’re here is to serve Mr. Romanov. He expects his companions to be ready when he calls.”
She stands and gathers the folder and heads out of the room without a backward glance, leaving my jaw hitting the marble floor.
Not fucking likely.
Forty minutes later and I think differently. It’s true I could get used to this. Lunch was sublime and I have never been waited on with so much reverence before. The waiter almost bowed as he served the most exquisite salad of leaves with a honey dressing with pine nuts and a glass of cold water.
To be honest, I could murder a burger and fries and say somewhat desperately at the end of it, “That was lovely, but I wonder if I could request something a little more, um, substantial.”
He appears confused.
“Madam, Mr. Romanov has instructed the chef to design a low-calorie healthy menu for your stay with us. Your quantities are to be carefully controlled, and it is designed to ensure you remain in the optimum health. Perhaps another glass of water may help.”
He smiles as if he’s answered my request satisfactorily and I’m not sure if the hunger is making me more cranky than usual, but I snap, “Please could you inform Mr. Romanov that I would like to see him? Immediately.”
His eyes widen and he stares at me in shock.
“I’m sorry, Madam, Mr. Romanov would not take kindly to being interrupted when he is working. I believe you have a meeting scheduled with him at seven pm for dinner in his private suite.”
“Is that right?” I am seething inside, and he nods, careful to back away from me, smiling as he goes.
Fucking jerk, Mikhail I mean. Cock sucking bastard, creep and weirdo. Who the fuck does he think he is, controlling my life like this? What the actual fuck? Holding me prisoner in his glass palace, issuing instructions as if he’s the boss of me.
