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“The rapes,” I almost whisper. “Will I be aware of what’s going on?” He bites his lower lip and shakes his head once. I smile, trying to look relieved. “Good. I don’t think I want to remember that.” He checks the needle in the light. “I mean, it’s just sex, right,” I continue, “but if they hurt me, I don’t want to remember that. Will they hurt me?”
“Grace,” he says, his voice growly, “stop talking.”
I nod, forcing a smile and taking a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready.” He places the point of the needle at my arm. “I don’t like needles,” I blurt, and he sighs again, this time impatiently. “Can I look away?” He nods once. “Thanks.” I turn my head, and when I feel him lining it back up with my vein, I add, “Don’t tell me when you’re doing it, like when a nurse says sharp scratch . . . I hate that.”
“Grace,” he growls.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “One more thing . . .” He growls louder this time, and I smile awkwardly. “What’s your real name?”
“Why?”
“Because how will I ever find you again?”
“You won’t.”
“What’s the harm? If this stuff is as good as you say, why can’t you tell me? I won’t remember.”
“Ivan.”
“I like that. Ivan Morozov. Russian, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’m ready, Ivan Morozov. When I find you again, I’ll tell you I need you and I love you. That way, you’ll know it’s me. In case I’m unrecognisable.” It’s a low blow, but I heard the men talking when we stopped by the graveyard after they first took me. They thought I was passed out, but I laid silently listening to the way they were doubting their boss and laughing at the way he spoke to the grave he stood by, always uttering the same words, ‘I need you, I love you.’
I turn my head away again and squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for the sharp scratch. When it doesn’t come, I open one eye and turn back. He’s staring at me with wide eyes. He drops the needle and grabs my face in his hands, kissing me hard for a second time. He steals my breath before pulling back.
“Why did you say that?” he asks.
“I don’t want to die, Ivan,” I say, gently placing my hand on his cheek. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t send me away to die.”
He stands abruptly, staring down at me for a few silent minutes before turning his back and heading up the stairs. I watch him go, relieved he didn’t stick that needle in my arm. The second he’s gone, I grab it and empty the contents on the ground. I’m sure he could get more if he wanted to, but at least he’d have to start again.
IVAN
“Is it done?” asks Maxim.
“No. Cancel the seat. She stays.”
He frowns. “What?”
I glare at him. “Are you questioning me again?” I shout.
“No, of course not. I’ll cancel.”
I go into my office and slam the door. Falling into my seat, I rest my head back, staring up at the ceiling. The second the words fell from her mouth, I knew she must have heard them from someone else, but they sounded good coming from her, and there was no way I could stick that shit in her arm after that. Now, I’ve got to work out what to do with her. My cock twitches, knowing exactly what it wants me to do with her.
I sit at a table with eight other men, discussing the shipment of drugs I have on a return ship from Russia. Three of the men, who I’ve been close friends with for many years, are heading up the police force. They make sure they avert police attention on the day of shipment, so we discuss arrangements before our host, Marcus, gets his wife to bring out the food she’s lovingly prepared. Dinner parties used to take place in one of my homes, as Lara loved to entertain, but since her death, they’ve always been at Marcus’s house.
After dinner, Alek drives me home. As we pull to a stop, Maxim comes out to greet us. He opens the door and pops his head in. “Your guest has been very loud since you left,” he tells me.
“And you couldn’t keep her under control?” I snap, following him into the house. I stop to listen, but I’m met with silence. “Well, she seems to have calmed.”
“Amazing what some rope can do,” he retorts, and I narrow my eyes. “You didn’t say what we were supposed to do if she kicked off,” he adds, shrugging.
I shake my head, unlocking the door to the basement and heading down. Grace is tied to a chair. Her head hangs limply to one side and there’s a rag stuffed in her mouth with tape over it. “Jesus, you can’t handle a woman unless she’s tied up and gagged?” I snap.
Maxim smirks. “It’s how we prefer them, no?”
