I stare at the mountain of bags on the floor. “What is all this?”
“Since you’ll be staying here,” he says calmly, “I got you some clothes, toiletries, everything you’ll need for now.”
“I don’t need you to get me anything,” I bite out. “I need to go back home and get my things.”
Maxim’s expression doesn’t change. “I already told you, that place is no longer your home. This is. And whatever you need, I will get it for you.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he’s already turning away. He walks out and closes the door behind him.
I wait until I hear his footsteps fade, then I climb off the massive king-sized bed and start going through the bags. The toiletries are all wrong, expensive brands I’ve never used, scents I don’t like. I push them aside in irritation and open the clothing bags.
Everything is flimsy. Tiny shorts that look more like underwear, sheer tank tops, see-through lace bralettes, silk slips that leave almost nothing to the imagination. Not a single pair of proper pants or modest top in sight. These aren’t clothes. These are barely-there scraps meant to tease and expose.
Rage boils up inside me so fast I can barely think.
I storm to the door and yank on the handle, but its locked.
Fury and panic crash over me. I start banging on the door with both fists, hitting it as hard as I can.
“Hey!” I scream, slamming my palms against the wood again and again. “Open this door right now!”
My hands and shoulders start to hurt, but I don’t stop. I keep pounding and shouting until the door suddenly swings open.
Maxim stands there, eyes narrowed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I shove one of the tiny sheer tops at his chest. “First of all, never lock me in again. And second, I can’t wear these! They’re flimsy and ridiculous. This isn’t my style at all.”
He barely glances at the garment before looking back at me. “Why? They’re not any different from what you’re currently wearing.”
My mouth falls open. “In case you’ve forgotten, you kidnapped me while I was coming back from a club. These are club clothes!”
Maxim’s dark eyes drag slowly down my body, taking in the short dress I’m still wearing from last night. A slow, dangerous smirk curves his lips.
“I kind of like you in it,” he says, voice low. “That’s why I got you more of the same. You’ll be dressing like that from now on.”
I stare at him, stunned. “I will never dress like this.”
His smirk only deepens, something dark and hungry flickering in his gaze as he looks at me.
“My house, my rules. If I say you wear these clothes, then you wear them.”
I fold my arms tightly across my chest, glaring up at him. “Well, newsflash, I don’t give a fuck whose house this is. I’m not putting on these ridiculous scraps.”
He shrugs like my anger means nothing to him. “Fine by me. You have two options.”
I quirk a brow.
“One,” he continues calmly, “you put on the clothes I bought you.” His dark eyes gleam. “Two… you can walk around the house naked.”
I feel like slapping him. My hands actually twitch at my sides. “Not in your wildest dreams,” I hiss. “You will never see me naked.”
Maxim’s lips curve into that infuriating half-smirk again. “Never say never…krasivaya.”
The Russian endearment rolls off his tongue like velvet and fire at the same time. My cheeks burn with rage.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
He glances toward the door. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me, fiancée?”
