“Let’s go get your woman,” Dmitri says as my brothers put on their protective gear and double-check their weapons.
I pull my bullet-proof vest from the closet in my office and put it on. I also make sure to take extra magazines to go with the weapons I’ve added to holsters on my vest and belt, and the weapons I’ve stuffed in the waistband on my back and leg holster.
“I’m coming,lyubimaya,” I say to myself as I get into the front seat of one of the waiting SUVs. “I’m coming.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EMMA
THE FLUORESCENT LIGHT flickering overhead wakes me up from a restless sleep. I try to plunge myself back into darkness by pulling the flimsy blanket over my head. It softens the harsh light, but doesn’t completely block it out. It certainly does nothing to ease the pounding in my head.
I hear the slide of the lock and the heavy door opening, then sit up quickly. That was a bad idea. The pounding headache momentarily intensifies.
“Good morning, little clover,” Patrick says to me. I used to think his accent was sexy. Now I just find it offensive to my ears.
“What’s good about it? I want to go home,” I reply. My voice is hoarse from screaming and lack of water. I’m desperately thirsty and hungry, but I’ve ignored the food and water I’ve been provided unless it’s been forced on me. I don’t trust it to not be laced with something.
“Is that any way to greet your future husband?” he asks, pushing a lock of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
Husband?“What the fuck makes you think we’re engaged? I haven’t agreed to marry you, and I never will,” I spit out.
“That’s where you’re wrong, little clover,” Patrick replies. “You see, you’re my reward that comes with my job promotion.”
“Like hell I am,” I tell him. “I’m not some prize to be won, and I will never agree to marry you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Your father owed a debt to Declan Callaghan. He didn’t pay, so his debt belongs to you,” Patrick explains. “Callaghan told me if I brought you in, I could have you. You’ll be my wife soon.”
“There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that will happen,” I say through gritted teeth. “Ivan will come for me before then.”
“We’ll see, little clover. We’ll see,” Patrick says as he turns to leave the room. “Maybe some more time in this room, alone, will help to change your mind.”
I close my eyes tightly against the intrusive overhead light while trying to remember anything that happened since I saw Patrick at the farmer’s market. I remember being in the backseat of the car and screaming when Patrick called Ivan. I felt a prick on my neck when Patrick put his hands on me, and the next thing I remember is waking up in this basement room and having the conversation with Patrick.
Patrick returned later in the day. He smiled and it did nothing but make me feel oily and slimy all over. He asked me what I knew about Ivan’s operations, and I gave him nothing. He didn’t believe me when I told him that all I knew about Ivan’s business is that he was a real estate developer.
I spit in his face when he traced my cheek with his finger. He forced a kiss on my lips, and when I spit at him again, he slapped me across the face. I’m pretty sure there’s a bruise there now.
“You’ll regret that, Emma. Ivan isn’t coming for you. Not anymore. You don’t matter to him,” Patrick said before he left the basement room and locked the door.
I scream and cry, struggling against my restraints. What the fuck is happening? I know Ivan cares.
Someone comes in a little while later to bring me food, and I do my best to ignore the taunts that always come with the delivery. Patrick reappears and tries to force food down my throat. I resist as much as I can, but some of it goes down my throat when I’m forced to swallow it. I curl into myself when Patrick leaves and try to sleep.
The next day that I’m here, Patrick returns and tries to turn on the charm. I’m still not buying it, and he knows it. He tries to kiss me, forcing his tongue between my lips and into my mouth. I bite his tongue, and he recoils in pain before once again slapping me across the face.
“Fucking bitch,” Patrick says as he wipes the blood that is trickling down his chin. He pushes me to the bed so I’m laying on my back, and a chill runs through me. I don’t like where this is going.
Patrick rips my shirt in two, exposing my bra underneath. He grabs my breasts roughly, and I cry out in pain. I kick my legs as hard as I can, and somehow make contact with his shins. He curses at the contact, but not as much as he curses when my foot makes contact with his groin.
He falls to the floor with his hands covering his crotch, and I can’t help but laugh a little bit. Patrick apparently thought I was a weak little girl. Oh how wrong he was.
“That’s the last time you’ll do that, Emma,” Patrick says as he slowly gets to his feet. He leaves the room and locks the door behind him. He’ll be back, and who knows how far he’ll take things next time.
An hour later, I’m being led out of the basement and into the living room of the house. At least my body is covered now. Patrick sent down a pair of leggings and a shirt for me to put on, but I’m not going to thank him for basic decency.
In the living room, there are several people standing around. They’re all dressed in suits, and under different circumstances, I might find some of them attractive. My eyes scan the room and land on Patrick. He meets my eyes, smiles, and starts walking towards me.
“Come now, Emma, it’s our wedding day. You should look happy to be here,” he whispers into my ear. “Look happy, or there will be consequences later.” He unlocks the cuffs, but keeps a tight grip on my wrists.
