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Mikhail rested his fist against the door, listening to her cry softly. He was not a man built for pity. Tears did nothing to move him. And yet, as he triple-locked her into the holding cell, he felt something akin to empathy tug at his heart. Mikhail, ever the dutiful soldier, brushed that emotion aside. He stalked off to his own bedroom, where he settled in for a night of watching his bride-to-be on the surveillance cameras.
CHAPTER6
ANNIKA
Thin pillarsof shadow streaked across the young captive’s beautiful face as she stood at the barred window. The moon was hanging full and luminous tonight over the city of Las Vegas. The streets down below were humming with traffic. Engines revved, stereos bumped, tires squealed, and horns honked, all adding to the collective background soundtrack to city life. It was a Sunday evening, but there were still tons of people out and about. The looming approach of Monday morning couldn’t put a stopper in the nightlife activities on offer here. Annika stared down at the tiny-looking tourists and locals mingling on the sidewalks. From way up on the top floor of Mikhail’s apartment building, the cars looked like toys, the people like colorful moving pinpricks on the ground. All so involved in their own lives, blissfully unaware that there was a young woman trapped in a penthouse suite way above.
Annika sighed and stepped back from the window. It was almost more painful to have a window to look out than four plain walls. Sure, the claustrophobia would probably be more intense, but it broke her heart to be able to see the world, but not touch it. Strangely enough, this wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way. All those years at home, her parents had done an impressive job of keeping her isolated. The only difference now was that she’d tasted freedom for a brief time on the California coast, and she wanted more. Instead, she’d been bumped from one holding cell to another.
Admittedly, it was a much nicer room than she might’ve expected for a ruthless criminal like her future husband. It was meant to be an innocent second bedroom, with a convenient attached en-suite bathroom, small but functional. The decor was sparse and rather spartan in taste, but it was comfortable enough, especially compared to sleeping in a car on the side of the highway. The queen-sized bed had neat white sheets and pillows. There was a built-in bookcase on one wall, and a small desk with a few old books in a language she didn’t understand. Judging by the shape of the letters, she assumed it to be Cyrillic. The books were small and lightweight, like most of the moveable objects in the room. Annika had now spent two full days here, and had checked out every item available, noting that there was nothing at all she could use for defense. The mirror was riveted to the wall. The desk chair was so clunky, she couldn’t hope to pick it up with any precision. There were no lamps, heavy books, paperweights… nothing. Even in the bathroom, the toilet seat and lid were customized with heavy-duty metal latches to prevent someone from removing them and wielding them as a weapon. This was not Mikhail’s first rodeo; he had thought of everything.
There was no chance of escape either. The window was barred, not that she would have fled from the top floor anyway. The door was always closed with multiple locks, and Mikhail kept his visitations to a cruel minimum. He appeared twice a day to bring her a morning and evening meal and barely stayed long enough for Annika to eat before taking the dishes and leaving her alone again. The first time he had come, she had still been in full defiance mode. She’d refused the breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, and fruit he’d brought her and spent the entire short window haranguing him with insults and pleas to be let go.
Needless to say, it was not effective. Mikhail was impervious to her plight, and even seemed to take a little pleasure in it. After that first missed meal, Annika quickly changed tactics. With her stomach rumbling and her mind running in circles, she explored the room and discovered a tiny camera installed where the ceiling met the wall. She felt a sting of embarrassment in realizing that he could watch her as much as he wanted. She felt violated, but she also knew this was her best chance of communicating with Mikhail. At first, she had just waved her arms and jumped up and down, shouting at the camera.
Early iterations of her ‘communication’ with him had amounted to, “Hey! I know you’re watching, creep! Let me out!”
He hadn’t responded, but Annika had heard the faintest rustling sound coming from the other side of the far wall. It had dawned on her that his room must share that wall. He was so close, yet totally unreachable. It drove her crazy.
“This isn’t fair,” she said to the camera. “You get to watch me all day and come in whenever you want, but I can’t see you? Isn’t this supposed to be a partnership? I’m going to be your wife, not your hostage, right?”
Mikhail had come in last night for her evening meal, bringing some choice words along with it. As soon as he’d opened the door, he hissed, “You’re not my wife yet. You’llneverbe my partner. And maybe if you hadn’t taken off to California, you wouldn’t have to be a hostage. But there are consequences to your actions, little girl. Your daddy isn’t here to clean it up for you anymore. You fuck up, you deal with the fallout.”
“What was I supposed to do? Just go along with the plan even though I never agreed to it? I’m not the one who arranged this marriage,” Annika shot back.
“Neither am I,” Mikhail retorted. “Now, shut up and eat your damn dinner.”
Annika wanted to continue her hunger strike, but the ache in her belly forced her to pick up a spoon and eat the hot vegetable soup and dark, flavorful bread in front of her. Mikhail stood guard, silently watching her eat. The second she was done, he swiped the dishes and left without another word.
Despite her frustration with him, she felt worse when he was away. Annika found herself pining for meal time, not only because she was hungry for food, but she was absolutely starving for Mikhail’s attention. She hated to admit it to herself, but there was no denying the giddy feeling in her chest when she heard him moving on the other side of the wall or heard his footsteps approaching her door. Surely it had to be some kind of instant Stockholm Syndrome, she reasoned. Why else would she spend hours thinking about him, having one-sided conversations with a security camera, and wishing he would come back and shout at her again? He was the enemy, after all. The criminal who talked down to her and held her captive.
And yet, she ached for his return. The second day, she was more desperate. The hours alone were getting to her. It was even worse knowing he was right there… and not touching her. Annika tried to talk to him when he brought her breakfast and dinner, but it was like chatting with a brick wall. An impossibly strong, athletic, good-looking brick wall. Every time he left her alone again, Annika upped the ante. If she couldn’t appeal to his empathy, maybe she could simply provoke him.
Now, it was nightfall. Facing another night alone, Annika stood squarely under the surveillance camera and stared into it. She put her hands on her hips in a sassy stance and said, “You know what? I think you’re just a coward. You can’t face me, so you stay hidden behind that stupid camera.”
There was no response, as usual. But Annika wasn’t exhausted anymore. She had all the energy in the world to antagonize him tonight.
“Is this how Sokolov men treat their women?” she said, twisting the knife deeper still. “Am I just some object to you? Is this what you really want?”
Her heart thumped like crazy, but her eyes never wavered from the camera. She peeled off her clothes, one item at a time, and tossed them across the room, until finally she stood there only in a bra and panties. She spread her arms open wide and taunted him, “A real man wouldn’t need a wall between us to control himself. A real man would come and claim what’s his.”
She waited, barely breathing as she listened closely. Her heart skipped when she heard the telltale thump of his footsteps… coming fast. The bedroom door burst open and Mikhail came thundering in, looking like a wolf homing in on his helpless prey. Annika suddenly felt very small and vulnerable in her half-naked state.
“Finally, a reaction! If I’d known this was all it takes to get your attention, I would’ve taken my clothes off a long time ago,” she tossed at him, just as he closed in on her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gripped her hard, his eyes blazing.
“You want to play grown-up games, little girl?” Mikhail growled.
Annika lifted her chin and met his gaze. “So what if I do? Are you man enough to teach me how to play?” she countered fiercely.
His fingertips dug into her soft flesh. Fear and lust pulsed through her veins in equal measure. She was so hungry for his touch, whether it was painful or not. As long as she could keep him here, she didn’t care what it took.
“Watch it,” Mikhail snarled. “Don’t ask for things you can’t handle.”
Annika stood up on tiptoe, having to push against his hands on her shoulders to do so. With every ounce of nerve in her body, she whispered, “I can handle whatever you’ve got.”
His dark brows lifted, his lips curling into a smirk. He ran his hand up from her shoulder, along the ticklish slope of her neck, and around to cup the back of her head.
“Is that so?” he asked, toying with her.
