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When I step out of the shower and back into the room he's there. Dressed in a pair of boxers and nothing else. He's leaned back against the headboard on the side nearest the door. Was he sleeping here tonight? If he is, I don't know how to deal with that. Since my arrival, he hasn't once slept in his own bed.
“Stop thinking. You look constipated,” he drawls. He has a book open in front of him and when he catches sight of me exiting the bathroom, he turns down the page corner and closes it, setting it on the nightstand next to him. “Come lay down, little mouse. It's been a long day and I'm not in the mood to spar with you again.”
I swallow hard, frozen as I stare at him.
“What about dinner?” I ask. He cocks his head toward the nightstand on my side of the bed. There on the tray sits a sandwich and a bottle of water.
“I had Anna bring you something up here,” he tells me. “That neither of us is in the mood to sit down at the dining room table tonight.”
I walk around to the other side of the bed, gingerly perching myself on the edge. It's odd being in his presence. Adrian emanates waves of power and assuredness that seem to disrupt the air around me causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention. Every neuron in my body is awake and alive. My fight-or-flight instincts are at the forefront of my mind. I'm not going to lie, the urge to run away is far greater than the urge to fight.
Because fighting him means breaking down my defenses and leaving myself vulnerable to his attack. Adrian isn't just a predator, he's a hunter, looking for weakness in those around him so that he can take advantage.
Picking up the sandwich I take a bite and then another. Soon the whole thing is devoured and the nausea I felt slowly begins to ebb away. I hadn't realized how famished I truly was. Then again, trauma will do that to a person.
Lifting the covers, I crawl underneath and lay on my side with my back to him. Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away. At first, it seems as if he won't make a fuss, but then strong arms wrap themselves around me pulling me toward him. I yelp and flail my hands and feet. He tucks me into his side, wrapping an arm around my waist and forcing me to settle my head on his chest. His other hand comes around to grab mine and threads our fingers together. From the outside looking in it seems as if we are the perfect couple, but if I know one thing, there's no such thing as perfect but only one person holds all the power.
“I—” My mouth is hot and dry making it hard to form words. I've never slept beside another man before. Growing up my parents had always been diligent in their efforts to keep me pure for my wedding day. Not that I hadn't tried to lose the cherry between my legs that somehow made me useful. I was fifteen when I first let a boy kiss me. His name was Johnny and he lived down the street. One week later I was attending his funeral after he'd been hit by a car. I'd watched it happen from the passenger seat, powerless to stop my father's second-in-command from murdering him.
It was a kiss.
A simple, innocent kiss.
And now here I am lying next to the most powerful man in Nevada, but it isn't because he loves me. Hell, I wonder if he even finds me attractive. No, the only reason he has an arm wrapped around me now is because he knows it sets me off guard. And just another chess piece. A pawn. Just like I've been my entire life.
“Stop thinking so hard, little wife,” he murmurs, momentarily unraveling his fingers from mine to turn off the light. Darkness settles over us and the only sound around us is our mingled breaths and our beating hearts. And somehow, even though I'm snuggled against the monster, it feels like the safest place in the world.
And that's a problem for future Vanya to deal with.
And future therapy bills.
Twenty
Reality crashes down around me as my alarm drags me from the safety of my dreams. The one place the cruelty of the world hasn’t touched. Yet. Given time, I’m sure my dreams will become just as hellish as my reality.
I roll over and hit the alarm on the clock that Adrian keeps on the nightstand. I’ve been setting it religiously so that I can enjoy the early morning sun in the garden with my coffee and breakfast. There is something peaceful about that place. A gentle reprieve from a stodgy, cold, and unfeeling house.
Dressing in a simple pair of flowy black cotton pants and a white crop top, I gather my long hair into a messy bun and head down the stairs. It’s the weekend, but Adrian is often gone, and that is a breath of relief that I need.
My mind is still reeling over last night when he slept beside me, holding me to his warm, muscular body as if I was something precious.
Pfft.
Definitely my mind conjuring up imaginations due to all the trauma I have suffered. I am nothing, nor will I ever be, something special to Adrian Volkov.
Then again—he didn’t sell me like he made me believe.
Why? When had he decided that I was more valuable to him if he didn’t sell me? Was it when he came across the contract he’d told Peter about? The one where my own father sold me like a cow at auction. Or was it a spur-of-the-moment decision?
No use dwelling on that at the moment. Trying to get an audience with his majesty is pretty much useless and I doubt he’ll be joining me in bed again. Why does the thought of that make my heart clench?
Ugh, stupid body. It’s been deprived of affection for so long that it clings to Adrian’s actions like a bad date.News flash—he’s no better than Peter. He’s a monster. He uses my body like a fucking toy. Stop being so fucking wanton for him.
Not that it gets the message. My brain and body are at war with one another over how he makes us feel. Nothing Adrian has done has been cruel. Humiliating? Check. Depraved? Sure. But he hasn’t hurt or struck me outside of the spankings that stung but also made me wet and wanting for more.
I shut the door to the bedroom and make my way down the stairs, following the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee. That’s weird. Anna doesn’t usually make a full breakfast for me since I rarely eat it. Usually, she bakes a few scones or muffins. Something I can easily take out to the garden. Today, however, I will welcome the plate of bacon along with whatever else she wants to pile on.
The sandwich last night was filling at the time, but I hadn’t eaten much else yesterday, completely having skipped lunch, so a full breakfast will be welcome. I want to do some more exploring of the house. I’ve done very little in that regard because I’ve been limited to the garden and the kitchen, but if the Neanderthal is going to make me marry him, I’m not going to be a prisoner any longer. I won’t be some trophy wife that is locked up like Rapunzel.
