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His jaw clenches and I notice the way his eyes dip down the length of my body, even while I’m sitting in this chair. It feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes and my entire body turns hot under his attention, questionably so. “Perhaps I’ll find another use for you.” The fire in his eyes inspires terror and something else which borders on excitement, which makes no sense.
“What kind of use?” I ask.
The question seems to snap him out of it as he shakes his head. “That remains to be seen.” His jaw clenches and he turns his back to me, taking a few steps toward the door.
I don’t know what inspires me to ask the next question, as I know he won’t answer it. “Who are you?”
His footsteps falter and tension coils through his muscular back, which is covered in the finest cotton suit that’s been tailored to fit him like a second skin. Whoever he is, he’s wealthy, gauging by his attire and the thick white gold Rolex on his wrist.
The man glances over his shoulder at me and those dark eyes look black at this distance. “Only I ask the questions here, printessa. You will learn that sooner or later.”
I shudder at the intensity in his eyes, knowing that I wouldn’t purposely push him. The look in his eyes tells me he has the ability to be wickedly cruel. He walks away without another word, leaving me alone in the darkness, contemplating my bleak future.
It’s never been very bright, but right now it’s shrouded in darkness and danger, captured by the devil in disguise. A man so painstakingly beautiful and yet cruel to the core. I may not have seen the depths of his depravity yet, but I can sense the darkness inside of him having grown up around men like him.
* * *
The only soundin the darkness is the drip of water in the distance, but it goads me. A sound that mimics the ticking of a clock, making time crawl by slower than I believed physically possible.
I don’t know how long I’ve been down here alone, since the man who captured me turned his back and walked away.
Ever since I’ve been trying to work out who would be gutsy enough to attack my father like this.
And I keep landing on the same answer, no matter how hard I wish I didn’t.
The man who wouldn’t answer my questions is Valery Morozov, of the Morozov Bratva.
He’s the only man who would have the audacity to try to dethrone my father this way. He’s been after Moscow for a good few years since he inherited from his father.
I remember listening to my father at a dinner prattle on about how he’s a thorn in his backside and too ambitious for his own good.
My stomach churns as I wonder what his response will be to learning his daughter has been kidnapped by his enemy. I can only imagine it will be rather offensive, and I’m glad I won’t be there to hear his reply.
Yulian will probably care deep down, but he won’t show it. After all, we used to be close when we were little, before my mother ran away.
When she ran, that’s when everything changed.
I never believed that she ran away, but that’s the story our father stuck with. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was murdered by him for doing something wrong, her body discarded and never to be found again.
A loud crashing makes me jump as I sit up straighter, eyes fixed on the door.
“Fuck,” someone growls, followed by footsteps.
The door swings open and a medium height young man, no older than me, steps inside holding a tray.
“This is fucking ridiculous. I’m not a servant.” His eyes scan the room and when they land on me, his jaw clenches. “Room service.”
I don’t say anything, eyeing him and the tray warily.
He comes closer and places the tray on my lap, before loosening the bindings holding my arms. “Eat up.”
I narrow my eyes, glancing down at the tray of food, which I highly suspect was what I heard crashing to the floor, as it looks like roadkill. “I’m not hungry.”
“You will eat it or I’ll fucking shove it down your throat.”
I swallow hard and pick up my fork. “You dropped it on the floor, didn’t you?”
His nostrils flare. “It all tastes the fucking same, dirt or no dirt.”
