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16
CATERINA
To my relief, Alexei doesn’t demand that I stay the night in his bed. When he’s finished with me, he leans down and scoops my clothes from the floor, tossing them at me as he disposes of the used condom in the trash, barely looking at me as I dress and retreat for the door.
That, in and of itself, is another relief. Alexei seems to have no interest in taking a chance that he might get me pregnant, which I’d feared even more than him forcing me into his bed. I still have no idea if it’s even possible for me, but I know that there’s one thing I couldn’t bear, and that’s to carry a child that wasn’t Viktor’s. I can’t imagine what Viktor would do in that scenario, what he would demand, how he would handle it—but I don’t ever want to have to know.
It’s an odd thing to feel relief in the bed of the man forcing you to sleep with him, but that’s exactly what I’d felt when Alexei had pulled out the foil packet. I’d almost felt grateful to him.
Is this what Stockholm Syndrome feels like? The thought flits through my head grimly, gallows humor making the corners of my mouth twitch as I move as quickly as I can towards the door before he changes his mind and decides that the night is still young.
It’s not—it’s nearly two o’clock in the morning, and I feel broken in both body and mind. I’d done my best to shut my mind off as soon as Alexei had ordered me to my knees, telling myself to simply not exist for as long as it took. It wouldn’t bemethat he was taking, just my body. Just the shell that I inhabit.It means nothing, I’d told myself over and over as I looked up at the raftered ceiling, following the knots and whorls in the wood as Alexei thrust into me. I tried not to think about the reality of what was happening, that he was taking what belonged to Viktor, leaving a mark on me that neither of us can ever wash away. I’d thought Viktor was the last man who would ever be inside of me, but that wasn’t the case any longer, and it wasn’t my choice.
How many times has going to bed with a man not been my choice?More than I can count, if I’m being honest with myself, between the majority of my marriage to Franco and the beginning of my marriage to Viktor. The last night I spent with Viktor stands out in my head as the one true time when I chose, all on my own, to seduce and sleep with a man.
I couldn’t let myself think about it then, though. Not with Alexei inside of me, doing his best to fuck every trace of Viktor away. He’d grunted things to the effect of that throughout the entire thing, reminding me with every second that passed the reality of the situation that I was trying to escape.
Take that Bratva cock. I know you like it. Once you get one, you get a craving for them, eh? Behave, littletsarina, and I won’t throw you to my men. You’d like that, wouldn’t you,tsarina? Italian whore. You’d like to see how many Russian cocks you could take at once.
I’d ignored him, my eyes glued to the ceiling, while he grunted out insults, spewing them faster as he got closer to his climax. He’d made a sound like an animal when he’d come, rolling onto his back instantly, his muscled abdomen gleaming with sweat as he’d pushed his white-blond hair out of his face with one hand and peeled off the condom with the other.
“I’ll make you come next time,tsarina,” he’d promised with a cruel smirk. “You’ll see.”
Not a chance in hell,I’d wanted to say, but I’d just given him a small, forced smile, feeling something crack inside of me as I’d done so. It seemed to have satisfied him because he’d turned away from me, tossing the condom into the trash and getting up with a groan, striding past me towards the bathroom. He’d finished with me.
Please hurry,I think silently to Viktor as I step outside into the hall, immediately greeted by a large guard who takes my elbow, hustling me towards the stairs and down to the floor where we’re being kept.I don’t know how long I can bear this.
I will, for as long as I have to. If it keeps Alexei mollified and pleasant, prevents him from using my friends or my stepdaughters as punching bags, I’ll go willingly to his bed. But I can feel that I’m going to lose a small piece of myself every time.
I hope that there's something left by the time we’re rescued.
The room is quiet when I slip back in. I can barely see, but as my eyes adjust, I manage to make out the makeshift sleeping arrangements that the others came up with while I was gone. Anika and Yelena are sleeping soundly in one bed, and Sofia and Ana are squeezed together in the other, with Ana on the outside. Two piles of blankets are next to the bed, with Sasha curled up on one and the other empty—meant for me, I imagine.
Sasha stirs as I kneel down on the pile of blankets. I want desperately to shower, but I have a feeling that we’re not allowed to do that without express permission, and I don’t want to risk incurring Alexei’s wrath.
“Mrs. Andreyva?” she whispers sleepily, and I reach out, patting her hand as I lie down. “Are you okay?”
I let out a sigh. “Just call me Caterina, please? Or Cat? Especially after all of this, I think we’re past formalities.”
Sasha hesitates. “Okay,” she whispers finally in the darkness. “Caterina. Are you okay?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “But I’m alive, and I’m not hurt. So all in all, I’m as good as I can be, I think.”
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“Not—” I swallow hard. “Not physically, no.” Alexei had been a surprisingly boring lay, all things considered, especially after the things that Viktor had opened my eyes to. He hadn’t tried to hurt me during sex or really been violent in any way, which, again, I’m weirdly grateful for. It’s strange, the things that seem to matter when everything else is so terrible. He’d gotten off on the fact that he was fucking his former boss’s wife, apparently, and not much else.
“That’s good,” Sasha whispers. “We weren’t sure where to put you to sleep, if—” she hesitates, and I hear the sound of her swallowing hard in the darkness. “With Sofia being pregnant and considering Ana’s condition, I thought they should have the bed. I don’t mind the floor. But I wasn’t sure—”
“I could probably fit in the bed with the girls if need be,” I murmur tiredly. “But this is fine.” At least down here, I can stretch out, which wouldn’t be possible sharing a bed with a nine and seven-year-old. “Did they go to sleep alright?”
“Almost immediately,” Sasha says ruefully. “Children are resilient.”
She says it in a way that makes me think there’s more to it. I remember what she and Viktor had both said about her being in foster care, aging out of it before Viktor took her. I want to ask her to tell me more about herself, to get to know her better. But I don’t, because lying there in the darkness in this monstrous house, it feels as if going to a place that dark is more than either of us can take.
“He’ll want you again,” Sasha says softly. “Men like him always do.”
I want to ask how she knows that, too. But I don’t. “I know,” is all I say, simply, and then I lay back on the makeshift pillow that was left for me, staring up at the ceiling.
