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Strong jaw, broad shoulders, dark hair neatly trimmed, short. Ocean blue eyes I could drown in below heavy brows. A smile on his thin lips, drawing my eyes from his high cheekbones. A cold, cruel smile.
“Dobryy vecher,” he says again in a thick Russian accent before frowning. “You don’t speak my language?”
I say nothing. I don’t want to risk opening my mouth. I might ask him how the hell he can look that good and be real.
He leans down toward me. “Good evening, Mila. Silence will not save you. My name is Alexsei Volkov. I am your worst nightmare. Welcome to your new home.”
4
Alexsei
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my life. I’ve never met her before but I’d imagined it based on how Don Belucci looked. A gawky teen. Spotty, lank hair, teeth in braces. Drowned in baggy sweaters with a permanent scowl on her face. Sweaty like him.
I got it wrong.
Long dark hair cascades over her shoulders, the style perfectly framing almond shaped eyes, round kissable lips, a cute button nose, and freckles on both cheeks. She does not look like she came from a bastard like Don Belucci.
I don’t want to hurt this image of perfection. I want to put a rope around her in some Roman gallery of classical art, admire her beauty that seems to transcend the ages. How can I think about hurting such pure unsullied perfection?
Then I look closer at her eyes. They are burning with his fury, raging fires that make her look like she’ll kill me as soon as her hands are free. I can hate her again. She will betray me the first chance she gets, like her father, like all Belucci scum.
I stare back, not giving an inch. It takes almost a minute but eventually she looks away.
“Look at me,” I tell her.
She refuses, pointedly fixing her gaze on the floor. I take hold of her chin with both hands, moving her entire face until she’s looking up at me. Her skin feels soft, warm, gentle. What would it be like to kiss?
I lean down, watching her pupils dilate, her nostrils flaring. She wants me. It is as clear as vodka in a crystal glass.
I want to make her beg for sex right now, to touch her to the brink of orgasm but not let her reach climax, make her cry out my name, curse me for refusing to let her come. I want her pleading with me to tip her over the edge, her eyes wild, her hair a mess, her body trapped under mine.
I give her a cold smile. “While you’re sitting there unable to speak, let me lay down some ground rules.” I pull over an armchair and place it opposite her. I glance down at her sweater, admiring her tits pressing against it. My cock twitches as I think of ripping those blue jeans from her, seeing what she’s got on underneath. She is mine now. I could do it. I could do anything I want to her and she cannot stop me. I have ultimate power over her. The final revenge is mine.
My smile broadens. “You are tied up, unable to escape, soon to be my wife.” I reach into my pocket and draw out a knife.
Fear rises in her face. I want to comfort her, to tell her she will never be hurt again. Why the fuck do I think that?
“I will not force myself upon you while you cannot fight me. I am a patient man. I can wait until you beg me for sex and you willbeg me soon enough.”
I reach down and she flicks her feet away, trying to stay far from the knife. “Keep still,” I snap, grabbing her ankles and cutting the cable ties away. “See, I’m setting you free.”
She continues to stare at the knife as it moves up to her wrists. She glares at me but then slowly sticks her arms out my way. “Devushka. Good girl,” I say, cutting the ties there.
She goes to stand but I shake my head. “Stay where you are.”
She sits again, untying the gag that was across her mouth. “This how you treat all your guests?” she asks, bitterness dripping from her voice.
“Only those who have a reputation for running.”
“Get used to it. I’ll be out of here soon enough and you’ll never see me again when I go.”
“So confident. I like that. How does it feel to know you will be my wife?”
Anger flares in her cheeks, spilling into her tone. “I’ll never marry you. You killed my mother.”
“What?” I let out a cold laugh. “I never met your mother.”
“You had an affair with her. My father cut her when he found out about you two. You killed her for damaging her body, blamed her for what he did to her. Shot her in the face. You’re a monster.”
