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Chapter 13
She hid her heart behind a wall in which only a real man could climb. - R. H. Sin
Natasha
Anton has not spoken to me since the car started rolling its way towards his house. His hand is wrapped around my back, and he is stroking my thigh. I am not sure whether I should be taking comfort in this or not. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching Rusev in pain as he fell to the floor with a shot in each knee, but it didn't leave me any less confused than I was before we got to the party. I liked the kiss we shared. It was impossible not to, and I liked the way he protected me and the way he held me in this car, but I don't know what it means.
I don't know what I want it to mean, if I want it to mean anything.
We pull up into the parking garage which houses the high rise I have been captive in for several days, weeks, how long has it been? I have honestly lost the exact count. All these rooms and money, and there is no calendar.
The minute the car stops, Anton lets go of me. He opens the door and jumps out like he is trying to escape a fire. I have no idea why he tore out on me, but I see one of his goons come up to the open door, offering his hand to me like a gentleman. He is forced to be one, but I am grateful nonetheless. This dress is not easy to walk in and get up and down in. Not only is it see through, but it is so damn tight I am surprised I have made it this long.
I sigh and take the goon’s hand and let him lift me up to my feet effortlessly. He is one of the bigger ones. I should fear a man like this, but I am not. All the goons do one thing; they serve Anton. If he doesn't order it, they won't do it. They would never dare touch me because they fear his wrath.
I walk in these high heels and ridiculously pompous dress to the inside elevator with the goons. I go straight to my bedroom because I want to get out of this, but I realize calling it my bedroom is also just as ridiculous as this dress.
When I first got here, I had insisted I would not sleep with Anton, that I needed time and space. I had actually never planned on there being a time when I didn’t. I don’t know when Anton realized it, if he always knew, but it began just a few days after I got here. He would come to me at night, while I was sleeping and curl up to me. Falling asleep in the very bed that’s supposed to be mine.
I wake up to him in my bed every morning now, which I have gotten used to but said nothing about. He is not forcing anything else on me, so I leave it alone.
I finally get this dress tugged off and go straight into the shower, turning on the water, only to be instantly scalded on my cheek with the hot water. I suck in a deep breath and move out from under it, wondering if the pain is because he peeled off a layer of skin with that slap.
I sigh and let the water run all over my body, doing my best to protect the cheek. It was throbbing when it first happened, and when we left the party. It has stopped now, but it still hurts, and I wonder if the adrenaline from getting my point across to Rusev is what has kept me from noticing just how bad it is until this moment. But I can't regret anything I did to him, anything I said. It was the right thing to do.
I grab the bar of rainforest scented soap and began to lather up my body in it, letting the smell soothe me and lull me into a more relaxed state. I never expected to run into Rusev again any time soon, but I am proud of myself for the way I handled the situation. I would never have had the guts to do something like that before when I was with him and not even half the woman I am now.
It's a little easier now when I think about my uncle. I think I have done him proud by reacting the way I did and showing Rusev he no longer owns me, for deciding no man owns me anymore.
That statement confuses me, though. I am still here in Anton’s house, technically under his control, though I can choose to resist him more, make it harder for him to get me to do what he wants. But the thing is, I feel like I am still here because of how I feel, or how I might feel about Anton. I cried over him, over the possible loss of the idea of him. Maybe I do want to get to know him and let him in again, bit by bit, if he proves to be worthy. The problem is, I can never tell with him what is real and what is an act. I am going to have to get to the bottom of this.
I rinse off the soap and shampoo savoring the last few moments in the warm shower before I have to return to reality. I get out and pull one of the nicest towels I have ever come across to my body and dry myself, the softness gives a bit of mercy to my otherwise in pain face and hand. I get the feeling it is only going to get worse as the night goes on and all the shock wears off.
I walk into the bedroom, surprised that I do not see Anton waiting for me to say something or try to convince me to do something else for him.
I reach for a clip, and I twist my hair on the top of my head and pin it there trying to keep it out of the way. I hate the feel of wet hair against my neck. I pull on a pair of silk shorts and a matching top, a fitting lavender color that compliments my complexion and hair.
I have to go downstairs, I realize this, and I prepare myself for anything, such as running into Anton and having to endure another conversation or fight with him. I find the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and pull out the Ibuprofen, knowing the swelling of my cheek is getting worse by the minute. It means the pain will also get worse, and that the last thing I need. I am sick of pain.
I pop the pills in my mouth and down them with some cold water from the filtered tap before I go to the freezer and open it, searching for something that will help me. There is frozen pizza and other frozen meals in there… how nutritious… and then I see it. A bag of peas! Perfect! I grab the cold bag and press it to my cheek with a satisfied and relieved sigh. It stings at first, but it begins to help with the swelling and numbs some of the pain. It’s just what I need.
I sit down for a moment at the bar, my mind wandering back to what Rusev said about my father; that he didn't care about me or my new status as Anton’s…whatever I am to him.
My father isn't cold, not to family. He may be a monster by nature, but he should care about what happens to me, his daughter. But there is always a possibility that in this one case, Rusev was right about the reason my father has not reached out. Maybe he doesn’t care about what’s happened to me. Maybe he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me at all. It’s not like he ever deserved the father of the year award or anything.
I gasp and jump, almost falling over as an unexpected arm snakes around my waist. He catches me, and I know it is Anton even without looking to see. He has this habit of sneaking up on me like this a little too often for my liking.
“Relax, it’s just me,” he says, a little too late. It would have been nice to have the warning before. His lips land on the back of my neck, and it causes a chill to run down my spine. Why does he have to know my weakness? The neck gets me every time. “Are you alright?” he asks me in a low voice, and I nod my head.
“You need to be verbal. I need to hear you say it out loud.” Anton growls suddenly. I didn't expect this level of worry once we were behind closed door.
“I am fine,” I tell him, hopefully satisfying him before he begins to worry too much.
Anton turns me around and gets me down from the chair, having more strength than he looks like he has. I guess I am so used to his goons and how gargantuan they are even compared to Anton’s height.
He presses me into the marble island, and his hand slides over mine, the one that is holding the bag of peas to my injured cheek. He is now helping to support it. I can feel the tension between us, a tension I know all too well. My eyes are on his, but neither of us is speaking or making a move. Is he assessing my reaction?
We are just breathing here in unison in complete silence as I imagine what it would be like to let go of all of my walls with him and just let him kiss me. I realize that we both lied in a way, both hid who we were for our own selfish reasons, reasons that make it necessary. I don't know if we will ever be the same as we were before or live up to what I thought we were becoming, but I don't know if I want him to hold back anymore, not when it comes to this part of us. After all this loneliness, it would be nice to be touched, to be wanted by someone.
