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“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” she says, her face a picture of annoyance and frustration.
I would find it amusing if I weren’t the one on the receiving end.
“Not particularly. The last time I fed a woman, it was under slightly more romantic circumstances.”
Her eyes go slightly wide as she curses at me some more in Russian, thinking I don’t know what she’s saying. I’ll keep the secret, for now. It might be better if we need to keep her under surveillance.
I leave the bowl on the bed, wondering if it’ll survive the night, not bothered one bit if she does or not.
2
KATIYA
I stop throwingshit at his head, mainly because I run out of cushions.
Instead, I eye this gorgeous man in front of me from head to toe. I can’t believe anything that’s happened in the last few hours. It all feels more like a nightmare. My retaliation seems to fulfill my need to lash out at someone.
I detest him, of course, even though I don’t know him. I detest all of them.
It’s nothing personal, it’s just how it is in these circles. I was a total bitch to him when he rescued me and also in the car. I may have kicked and screamed and swore like a sailor, but what do they really expect?
I had been held captive for over a week after I was snatched on my way to the airport. I still shudder when I think about some of the guards and what they had planned for us. Being shipped off to be a sex slave wasn’t in my future, and I’m still coming to terms with how close I came to being just that.
My family,I think idly.
Do they even know I’m gone? That is the question.
My father barely acknowledges my existence, and my uncle, while he cares for me and treats me better than my father, is a very busy man. He thinks I’m in Europe taking a break from studying for my master's in fashion design. I guess by now, he has received some kind of ransom note. I assume my kidnappers wanted money.
I glance back at Marco as he steps toward me with an offering of spaghetti and tells me to stop throwing shit and eat, then he places it on the bed.
It smells delicious, of course, but it’s going to take more than a homemade Italian meal to sway me into talking.
“I’m not hungry!” I declare, shoving him away as he gets closer. I stubbornly cross my arms over my chest.
He seems mildly taken aback by my outburst. I seriously have to wonder what he is expecting here; I’ve been held captive against my will by god knows who and now I’m expected just to trust him. I don’t.
“Oh, that’s just fucking fantastic,” he glares at me, “this is a fucking expensive suit,” he snarls when he manages to save himself from wearing the meal.
“Figures,” I fire back at him. “So was my dress before I was kidnapped.”
“I’ve fucking told you I’m not here to harm you. I doubt you’ll listen to reason given your latest tantrum.”
“Swear much?” I throw back at him. I don’t know why I’m being such a bitch, my defense mechanism seems to be kicking in again like second nature.
“How long has it been since you ate?” he scrutinizes my face. I did get to clean up in the adjoining bathroom earlier so I at least feel like I resemble someone almost human again.
“I wasn’t exactly counting when I was tied up and held hostage,” I fire back.
“Are you always like this?” He questions, one eyebrow shooting up quizzically.
It’s a pretty unforgettable face, I will admit that much. He has a strong jawline.
I’ve noticed that about all of the Medicis, they’re all blessed, but his face is very prominent. He has a beautiful olive complexion and shiny dark hair, artfully disheveled like it cost three hundred dollars to style. He’s not clean-shaven, something I don’t usually favor, and the little bit of stubble is sexy to say the least.
Then I’m met with his glare, his blue eyes like dark sapphires. He’s strong looking, not one to be messed with. I don’t even have to know who he is to know that.
It’s written all over him.
