He clicked his tongue, already steering me away from the bar, away from the exit. “Don’t play innocent,” he said, voice low, indulgent. “We both know you’re not.”
I felt cold all at once.
“Those pretty little sounds you’ve been making at night?” he murmured. “I want them in my ear. While I’m inside you.”
My stomach turned.
“This is just practical,” he went on. “I need to know what I’m marrying. You don’t buy cargo without inspecting it first.”
The words lodged in my chest and stayed there.
He tugged me toward the elevators. I stumbled, my heel catching, panic breaking through the careful stillness I’d been holding all evening.
I needed Maksym.
My hand slid into my bag on instinct, fingers closing around my phone. I kept my face neutral as the screen lit in my palm, typing without really looking.
Felix
Fairmont
I tried to add more. A floor. Anything.
“What are you doing?” Felix asked sharply.
I lifted my eyes, keeping my voice steady with effort. “I was just letting Father know I’ll be out late, that’s all.”
His hand shot out, snatching the phone from mine before I could react. His eyes dropped to the screen, reading both messages.
“Who is Katya?” he asked, voice suddenly quieter—and colder.
My stomach twisted. “Just a friend. It was just a precaution… I’m scared of you.”
That last part wasn’t a lie. Maybe if I said it, he’d find some sliver of decency. Maybe he wouldn’t touch me.
But his expression darkened instead. The elevator doors opened and his hand closed around my wrist. “Let’s go,” he hissed. “You just made things a lot worse.”
He yanked me forward.
My heels caught the threshold; I stumbled, barely keeping upright as he strode out into the hallway. The carpet blurred under my feet. His pace was merciless, long legs eating distance while I half-ran, half-tripped to keep up, the stilettos wobbling dangerously.
When we reached the suite, his guard—the same one from the car, was already waiting outside the door, silent and alert.
I could hear my own breathing too clearly—thin, uneven, and ragged with panic—as Felix unlocked the door and pushed it open. The soft hush of the room made everything louder: my heartbeat, the drag of air in my lungs, the faint click of the latch behind us.
As he turned to shut the door, I ran.
My heels skidded against the polished marble floor, throwing off my balance, but I made it to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me. The lock clicked just as his weight crashed into it.
“You fucking bitch!” he roared.
The door rattled in its frame as he pounded against it. “Open this door. Now.”
He kicked it, once, then again—each impact louder, angrier. I jumped back, breath catching in my throat as I backed against the vanity.
“Open it. Open the fucking door or I swear to God I’ll peel it off with my teeth.”
I collapsed onto the toilet seat, my chest heaving, the porcelain cool beneath my shaking thighs. My phone—he had it. I couldn’t call anyone. No one even knew where I was. No one except Maksym—and God only knew if he’d seen the messages in time.
