Page 22 of Unholy Tsar

But my ex isn’t any regular ex. And that’s not just because he left me at the altar. Sooner or later, he’ll realize I’ve been hiding in plain sight next to Bree Kilpatrick. But Bree is practically untouchable. Daughter of a fearsome mobster, cousin to the new king of the entire American underworld. Niece to powerful dons. She’s nearly invincible, and even my crazy ex would know that. He would never touch her… not unless he’s truly lost his mind. Me, though, I’m a nobody. I’m fair game to him.

My limbs turn to jelly as the gravity of what’s about to happen becomes clear. I rest against the wall and slowly sink into the floor. I am so fucked. My mind whirls as I try to think of what to do. Bree was my only plan.

“You’re not to go near my niece again,” Maksim repeats, but I’m barely listening to him. “Instead, you’ll come with me to an apartment of my choosing. I’ll station guards around the perimeter so you can’t try to run away and—”

“What?” My head snaps up. “What are you talking about?” He’s going to give me an apartment to stay in?

“Essentially, Cecilia, you’re my captive now. There’s no escape for you.”

I glare at him, “You can’t do that to me. I’m a person. How do you expect me to survive in an apartment with no food or water?”

Maksim walks toward me, all the while undoing his tie. Shit. He didn’t even take his tie off while he fucked me. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way,” he says, holding the tie loosely in his hand. “Get up.”

I narrow my eyes on him, heart racing as I do as I’m told. “Give me your hands,” he demands. Said hands form fists by my sides. He smirks and grabs my hands. I don’t fight him as he tightly ties the silk material around my wrists. Then he unlocks the door.

“Shall we?”

If he’s expecting me to put up a fight, then he must be out of his mind. “How long do you plan on holding me hostage?” I ask as he pushes me into the back of a Lincoln.

He whispers something in Russian to his driver, then gets in beside me, pulling up the privacy partition. The car starts with a purr, and we’re off.

“As long as it takes for me to find out everything about you,” he finally answers. “Or you could save us the time and effort and just tell me everything yourself.”

“Never,” I say with feeling.

“Then it looks like you’re going to be my captive for however long I want.” He takes his phone out of his suit pocket and starts typing furiously.

I cross my arms over my chest and glance out the window. “Aren’t you going to blindfold me? Isn’t that what bad guys do to their kidnapped victims?”

“Blindfolding the victim means the kidnapper is going to let the victim go alive and doesn’t want to risk them coming back with the cops,” he says, still typing away on his phone.

My stomach drops.

What does that mean? That he doesn’t plan to let me go alive or what? I gulp, but I’ve already decided I’m going to go along with this. I won’t let his threats dissuade me.

Right about now, he’s probably getting in touch with that bastard Vincent and telling him not to let me get close to Bree again. So where does that leave me?

I shudder at the possibilities. My ex. Homelessness. Countless other horrors. It’s a no-brainer that I’m choosing to stay with Maksim.

He said he’ll provide me with an apartment. Security. Which means I won’t have to battle the elements out there or the creeps crawling around NYC.

Looks like Maksim’s got himself a ‘captive’.

Jokes on him though, because my prison is my safe tower.

The prison is a beautiful three-story, red brick townhouse in Brooklyn Heights. I even have my own private chef and everything. Guess I’m not going to starve after all. I love it here.

“Behave.” That’s the last word Maksim growled at me before stalking back out of the apartment and leaving me alone—after introducing me to the house staff, of course.

That was a week ago.

Since then, I’ve discovered that he dropped a black credit card for me to use, so I could get ‘essential’ items. At first, I told myself I wasn’t going to use it. But then, the first day went by. The second day. The third day, and my resolve weakened. By the fourth day, I was ready to make my escape, consequences be damned. It felt like I was going crazy.

No matter how big and luxurious the apartment is, a prison is still a prison, and I miss the outside world. Even if you own a pet, you occasionally take them out for walks, damn it.

On the fifth day, I came up with a brilliant plan to lure Maksim back to the townhouse. I went online and splurged on some expensive designer clothes and shoes worth over a hundred grand. I actually winced as I clicked ‘pay’.

Did it work? Nope. But my clothes arrived yesterday, and I loved them, so a win is a win, I guess.