The massage table was set up in my room, along with candles and soft, soothing music. I had a brief moment of panic when I undressed and crawled underneath the sheet. It made the day of my kidnapping vivid. Remembering the fear, I tried to take deep, even breaths while I waited for the masseuse. In the midst of my almost freak-out, the door opened.
The masseuse asked, “Would you like deep tissue?”
I recognized the Swedish accent, and all of my worry dissipated. This would not be like last time. “Please.”
The woman got down to business, using strong hands to work on my muscles. At some point, her touch lightened and because I felt safe and relaxed, I fell asleep. Unsure of what startled me awake, I turned my head and opened my eyes.
The Swedish masseuse was gone, and Vlad was standing over me, his finger lightly tracing the outline of my naked shoulder blade, as if he had all the right in the world to it. His eyes swam with dark, dangerous intensity.
“What are you doing here?” I asked throatily. His gaze dipped to the bare swatches of skin that weren’t concealed by the sheet.
His hand dropped to his side. “I don’t know. I feel…” His tongue traced his bottom lip. “What are you doing to me?” His question came out a whisper, yearning. “I can’t stay away from you.”
I smelled the vodka on his breath and noted the glassiness of his eyes. Words like “tortured” and “entranced” raced through my mind. The strong and mighty Vlad was crumbling before my eyes.
“I don’t sleep, I don’t eat. To be in this house and see you but not be able to touch you. What is it? What’s your power?” he demanded, his eyes hardening. Vlad was drunk, drunker than I’d thought.
I rolled over under the sheet so that I was on my back. Vlad closed his eyes, like he warred with himself. He went on. Rambling, “Campbell, Igor, me. What do you do to us?” His face came close, his lips were a breath away from mine and everything froze.
Could I do this? Carry out my plan? Was I cruel enough? Cold enough?
“I don’t do anything,” I said, my heart picking up speed as Vlad’s mouth grazed my cheek before dipping to the hollow of my neck and staying there. His lips were soft, his breath warm.
“You make me powerless…helpless.” His voice was low, and I felt his teeth against my skin. My pulse pounded in my temples.
“Helpless…wanting you. You’re Igor’s.”
“I’m no one’s,” I stated calmly. My hand reached up to touch his dark hair, stroking the silky mass of it. “We could be together. No one would have to know. Igor wouldn’t have to know.”
He lifted his face from my neck to look into my eyes. His lips descended toward mine, but instead of kissing me, he wrapped a large strong hand around my throat.
A shot of terror flared through my body as he began to squeeze, slowly cutting off my air supply.
“You won’t be the reason this dynasty falls. You won’t be the reason Igor makes decisions with hiskhuy—dick.”
I struggled against the vice around my neck, clawing at the hands choking the life out of me. Black spots danced before my eyes as I continued to flail, attempting to kick my legs. This wasn’t how my plan was supposed to go. Seduction, lust, pleasure—that was how I was going to bring Vlad down.
But the joke really was on me. I had trusted the wrong person, and now I was going to die.
I’d trusted myself, and I shouldn’t have.
Chapter 45
I was dead.
I had to be. Why else would I be in so much pain? My head was pounding and my throat felt tight.
My lids fluttered opened, and I took in a deep breath, and struggled to swallow.
My hand went to my neck, but before I could touch what I knew was swollen flesh, a hand grasped mine.
“You’re here,” I croaked.
Dolinsky’s brown eyes were hard, emotion lurking in their depths. “I came as soon as Sasha called.”
“Sasha,” I murmured.
“He’s the reason you’re not—that Vlad didn’t—he came to check on you and he’s the only reason why you’re still here.”
