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"Please don't do this," I beg them one last time as they force me into the room and close the door behind them, leaving no doubt that escape isn't an option.
Boris's hands clamp down on my shoulders, pushing me into a chair with a force that leaves no room for resistance. The rope scrapes against my wrists, growing tighter with each pull from Andrei. He fastens a gag around my mouth, silencing my protests. I twist against the bindings, my muscles burning with the effort but it's no use. The ropes are unyielding, biting into my skin.
Lev and Mikhail share a knowing look before they leave the room, their footsteps a fading echo on the cold, hard floor.
In a sudden surge of defiance, I jerk my head forward, connecting sharply with Boris's jaw. A grunt escapes him, more from surprise than pain. He stumbles back, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. I brace myself for his retaliation.
"Ty smelaya," he mutters under his breath. You're brave. I understand a bit of Russian because my father forced me to learn it. He said it was important to understand our rivals' language, for respect and caution. So, while I can't speak it, I can grasp some of what Boris says.
Then, without warning, his hand strikes across my face. The slap stings, making my eyes tear, blurring my vision. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I hold his gaze, unflinching, even as my cheek throbs with pain.
That's when Dimitri walks in. He’s with Ivan, his cousin and right-hand man.
He stands in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the dim light.
When he walks in, his presence fills the room, commanding and chilling. Dimitri, with his cold, calculating eyes and a demeanor that spells danger. Yet, there's an undeniable charm about him, a magnetism that draws you in, despite your better judgment. If only he weren't so ruthless, I find myself thinking. Under different circumstances, maybe...
But no, that's not a road I can afford to go down. Not with everything at stake, not with my heart caged in fear and loathing. Dimitri's gaze meets mine, and for a fleeting second, I see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Then it's gone, masked by the familiar icy indifference.
"What do we have here?" he says, his voice resounding with a smooth, dangerous lilt that sends a shiver down my spine. He steps closer, and I can't help but notice the way his shirt clings to his lean, muscular frame.
I try to steady my breathing, to maintain some semblance of control in this helpless situation. Dimitri is the predator, and I the unwilling prey, caught in a game that I never wanted to play.
His eyes, dark and inscrutable, fix on mine, holding me captive in a way the ropes never could.
Then, without a word, he leans down and his lips meet mine. It's a kiss that's not a kiss, devoid of tenderness, a show of power, a claim. I'm frozen, shocked by the audacity, the brazen violation of my space. His lips are firm, unyielding, and I'm too stunned to respond. When he pulls back, it's with the faintest smirk, as if he's just won a round in a game only he's playing.
Dimitri turns sharply to Boris, his features set in a hard line. They lock eyes, and Dimitri's voice drops to a dangerous growl, the words coming fast and furious.
"Yesli ty yeshche raz udarish' yeye, ya otorvu tebe golovu," Dimitri hisses, the threat in his voice icy and lethal. If you hit her again, I'll rip your head off. I catch the meaning of his words, just enough to grasp Dimitri's deadly warning.
Boris recoils slightly, the fear in his eyes betraying his usually stoic facade. He nods quickly.
Just then, my phone starts ringing. Dimitri's eyes flicker to me, a mischievous glint appearing in them. He reaches over and snatches my phone from the table. "Looks like Lorenzo's calling," he says with a teasing tone. He holds the phone out, looking at me with a challenging smirk. "Should I answer it? Let him hear all the terrible things I could do to you?”.
Another phone erupts into a shrill ring at that moment, slicing through the tense air. Ivan walks up to Dimitri and gives him the ringing phone.
“It's your brother.”
Dimitri snatches it and his eyes narrow before he strides out. His scowl deepens with every step. Ivan walks out behind him. The door slams shut behind them.
Mikhail and Lev reenter the room, their eyes flicking over me with a mix of curiosity and malice. Boris, still nursing his jaw, sneers in my direction. "Dimitri's got his claws out for this bitch," he mutters, a venomous edge to his voice. "Thinks she's something special."
Mikhail smirks, a cruel glint in his eye. "Well Dimitri's not here to play the hero now." His words hang heavy, ripe with implication.
Andrei's laugh, dark and wicked, sends a shiver down my spine. He moves towards me, and his rough hands shove the gag back into my mouth, stifling any protest. I try to scream, but it's muffled, and it's useless.
Then Boris's hand connects with my face again, a sharp sting spreading across my cheek. My vision blurs, as tears well up. My shirt strains against the force, and one of my buttons pops loose.
Lev's eyes light up with a predatory hunger. He reaches out, and his cold and unwelcome fingers touch my skin. "Soft," he murmurs, almost to himself, before his hand traces my chest to my breast and he fondles me roughly. I twist away, repulsed, but the ropes hold me tight. God, please no, I scream in my head.
Boris grips my hair, yanking my head back with brute force. Lev and Andrei join in, touching me anywhere their hands can reach. I feel degraded and repulsed by every touch.
The room spins, I've never felt so much fear and desperation in my life. I can't fight them off no matter how much I try. The realization sinks in like a stone in my stomach. This is happening, and I'm powerless to stop it.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and Dimitri strides back in. His eyes take in the scene, and a shiver slices down my spine at the cold fury building in his gaze.
"Chto, chert voz'mi, vy tut delayete?" he spits out. "What the fuck are you doing?"
