AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I take it slowly, not wanting to come off as greedy, and hold it, weighing it, and admiring it. The box on its own is perfection. I mean, even if it is empty, like some sort of mean joke, I don’t think I’d care.
But it’s not empty.
I jiggle it around to savor the treat and for a split-second consider not opening it, maybeneveropening it, instead hanging on to it like it’s a mysterious treasure, too precious to see the light of day.
I mean, it’s not like I’m ever going to get anything from Tiffany again.
And what’s with a Christmas gift from these guys, anyway? Is this a thing among certain kidnappers?
But when it comes down to it, I don’t give a damn. I want my Tiffany present. So, I tear the box open like a hungry little animal.
I gasp, and my hands begin to tremble. “Oh my god. This is incredible,” I say, pulling out a diamond bangle bracelet.
Adiamond bracelet. Forme.
I’ve never gotten anything from Tiffany. I’ve never even held anything from Tiffany. In fact, I’ve never even beencloseto anything from Tiffany, that is, no closer than peering into their display windows, like a less fancy Holly Golightly.
I roll the bangle in my fingers, feelings its weight—not just its physical weight, but the implication, the aura of it. I know it’s expensive. I know it’s prestigious.
I also know the guys are trying to buy me in some way, for some reason. And I don’t understand why.
I shouldn’t accept it. It will somehow put me in debt to them. But it’s so pretty. So, so pretty.
I’ll just try it on.
I slide on the bangle and as I knew it would be, it’s perfection rolled into a few ounces of metal and stone. Extending my wrist, I show the guys. I say nothing, because I just don’t know what to say.
A measlythank youmight insult the moment.
And then, when I know perfectly well that I should take it back off, return it to the box, explain it’s inappropriate, and saythank you anyway, I continue to admire it on my wrist.
* * *
CHAPTERSEVEN
GRISHA
I knewshe’d love the bracelet.
We all did.
First of all, what woman doesn’t love a little trinket from Tiffany? And this woman in particular, one who clearly lives a relatively austere, workaholic life, would never expect that such a gift would come her way. It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it, oh, fuck no. She deserves it more than nearly anyone we know. The thing is, she doesn’tknowshe deserves it. But as she sticks around with us longer, she’ll understand. She’s deserving of this, and more, for exactly the reason she doesn’t believe it.
I love a work in progress, a challenge. I want to spoil this woman precisely because I know she’ll neverbespoiled. She’ll never take pretty things for granted, come to expect them, or feel entitled.
Appreciation spreads across her face as she looks from one of us guys to the next. It almost makes me want to cry.
And I don’t cry.
The happiness that’s replaced the weary, suspicious look on her face, for however long it happens to last, is worth all the trouble of the fucked-up night before. Including how she got her bottom beaten.
For a moment, I’m not bothered by how Sergey got away.
It’s Christmas, and we have a beautiful woman in the house. Sure, she’s here against her will, but she’ll come to understand this is the only place she’s safe—with Valentin, Grisha, and myself by her side.
“How did you… where did you get this?” she asks when she’s recovered a little.
I decide to be straight with her. “We have a personal shopper at Tiffany, as well as at some other places. They deliver whenever we need them to. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”
