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“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice filled with gratitude. “For talking to me, for sharing your memories. It means more to me than you'll ever know.”
She smiles warmly, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “You're welcome. I’ll be back later to bring fresh linen for your bed and some sleepwear and loungewear, but for now, you should enjoy a nice hot shower with the toiletries I brought in. They’re heavenly.”
Was that her way of saying I could use a shower? I chuckle at her discernment. It’s the first laugh I’ve had in days.
Her words and story linger in the room after she’s gone, carrying a profound truth that resonates within me. And so, I find solace in the connection forged through conversation, even as the locked door continues to keep me confined.
CHAPTER NINE
Kai
Vasilisa has been locked in her room for four days and spent three days in a locked cell in my warehouse before that. I know I can't avoid her forever, but I'm struggling to look at her while knowing the attempt she made on Persephone's life. Her rationale for doing so just made things worse. She showed no remorse for her justification. She needs discipline and to be brought down a peg. She needs to learn her place before we get married, and I can't keep putting it off. Now that I’m back from New York, her worst nightmare starts.
I sit at the breakfast table, awaiting her arrival. I’ve only been home for a couple of hours, but I had my butler, Samuel, go retrieve her. I'll see if the seven days in isolation have taken some of the fight out of her. This first real conversation between us should be interesting.
Vasilisa's arrival is marked by an audible sigh. She's clearly not enthusiastic about joining me for breakfast. Samuel clears his throat and pulls a chair out for her as she glares at me from under her furrowed brow.
“I see you're still alive,” I say mockingly.
“And I see you're still a bastard,” she spits.
My eyes narrow at her insolence. “You're in no position to insult me,” I say, my voice low and threatening.
Vasilisa rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. I've been locked up for countless days now. What more do you plan to do to me? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to realize the gravity of your actions,” I say sternly. “You need to learn who is in charge here and submit. Your defiance won't be tolerated.”
“Submit?” She scoffs. “You haven't earned that. You don't have to like me ... hell, you can continue to hate me. But it's not fair for you to expect me to submit to you when you have yet to even treat me like a human.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I've given you the essentials until you earn otherwise,” I sneer. “Food and a roof over your head. I could have left you down in the basement at the warehouse with water and bread.”
“How about some basic decency?” she retorts. “You have treated me like a prisoner since the moment you rescued me in that alley. You've insulted me, belittled me, and now you want me to submit to you?”
She has learned absolutely nothing, yet I can’t say I’m surprised. She has no idea the patience that I’ve exercised with her. Any other person would have earned themselves a bullet between the eyes by now for the level of disrespect she continues to show. “You may not like how I treat you, but you will learn to respect me,” I warn firmly. “I am your fiancé, whether we like it or not.”
“I never agreed to this willingly,” she says bitterly. “I was forced into it, just like I was forced into moving here three months before the wedding. I don’t even have a ring on my finger. We should get it over with, set some ground rules, and live on separate sides of the house. You get to do what you want, and I get to do the same. This farce doesn't need to play out in the traditional marriage sense.”
I lean forward. “You don't get to say how this plays out.” I smirk. “And make no mistakes about it, I will always do what I want. I don't need your permission.”
“Whatever.”
“The harder you fight against my will, the harder my dick gets for the submission. So keep fighting, milseán. It will be just that much more fun to break you.”
Her eyes widen in horror at my crass words. “You're disgusting,” she spits out. “You think this is all a game? That you can just break me like some kind of toy?”
I laugh. “It's not a game, acushla. It's the real world.My world. And you need to learn that.” I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my coffee. The spread of food before us is getting cold. “But enough of this unpleasantness. Let's discuss something more pleasant like your upcoming punishment.”
Her eyes widen even further, and she begins to clench her fists. “P-punishment?” she stammers.
“Yes,” I say matter-of-factly. “You need to learn your place and understand the consequences of your actions. And so, you will be punished.”
“Don't you think the isolation that I have endured is punishment enough?” she asks incredulously.
I smile darkly. “Not even a little bit. That was merely a reprieve for you while I calculated my next move. Besides, you've learned absolutely nothing from that reflection time. You're as defiant and mouthy as ever, but you'll learn.”
Vasilisa's eyes dart around the room frantically, searching for any sign of mercy or understanding, but she finds nothing. Only my cold, unyielding gaze stares back at her.
“What kind of punishment?” she tries again, the slight tremble to her voice giving away her fear.
