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My pulse races rapidly, and I feel my hands begin to tremor. The evil glint in this man’s eyes tells me he’s not someone I should backchat—my stinging face is testament to that—but like an incorrigible idiot, I square my shoulders and smile. “I doubt your tiny penis would make much of an impact, and I certainly doubt your ability to make it painful.” I brace myself for the next slap, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he grips my chin in his hand and forces me to stare into those cruel eyes some more.
“Breaking you will be a pleasure.”
“One that will have to wait for now,” comes Ivan’s voice from the top of the steps. “Why am I still waiting?”
Igor tightens his hold on my hair and guides me to the steps. “Apologies, boss. She decided to get a little excitable.”
“It must have been the thought of seeing you again, Ivan,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Igor shoves me harder, and I trip up the steps, hissing when he pulls me back by the hair. “Show some damn respect,” he warns.
I’m taken into another room, one I haven’t been in before. There are black couches with gold edging and a gold table in the center. A large mirror hangs on one wall, its gold edging matching the couches. I glance around. I’ve never seen anything like this place, not unless you count what I’ve seen on television about extravagant lifestyles. Igor releases me and leaves the room as Ivan takes a seat on the couch, watching me with interest.
“Igor will tear your insides out with a knife if you continue to bait him.”
“I’m yet to decide if that’s a better option than being here like this,” I mutter.
Ivan almost smiles. “Don’t annoy him for fun, Grace. Who knows what will happen when I’m not around?”
“Have you decided what to do with me?” I ask, changing the subject.
“You need to shower.”
“What’s the point if I’m going to sit back in that dungeon?”
He stands, and I immediately step back. He almost smiles again before passing me to lead the way from the room. I follow, taking in each closed door that we pass. This place is like a maze, and I doubt I’ll ever find my way out if I’m able to make a run for it.
We go upstairs, but this time, he leads me to the farthest room along the hallway. There’s a keypad on the door, and he covers it with his body while he inputs the code. The door opens and I gasp as we step inside.
There’s a large four poster bed against the wall with sheer curtains hanging down each one like a goddamn fairy tale. The bed is so high, there’s a step around it to climb on. Ivan points to a shower opposite the bed. There’s a glass screen to keep water inside. “Shower,” he says.
I glance around and ask, “Are you leaving?”
“No.”
I look back at the walk-in shower longingly. “But I can’t go anywhere. Can’t you wait outside the door?”
Ivan sighs impatiently. He takes me by the upper arm and marches to the shower, leaning in to turn it on. Water jets blast out hot water and steam immediately billows up into the air. Ivan pulls the jacket from me, tossing it on the floor, and then he shoves me under the spray and releases my arm. “Now, shower,” he orders, moving over to the window and taking a seat in one of two chairs.
There’s a built-in shelf with products placed carefully in a line. The Harrods labeling causes me to raise an eyebrow, but I reach for the shampoo regardless and squirt some into my hand. As I massage it into my hair, I close my eyes, inhaling the Shea butter and hazel nut oil scent described on the label. Next, I reach for the body wash. The lime basil and mandarin bursts to life the second I begin to massage it into my skin. It’s the most luxurious shower I’ve ever had, and it might just be my last, so I’m making the most of it.
I stay under the spray until Ivan reaches in to turn it off. He hands me a towel, which I wrap around my body. There’s a tiled grey wall that hides a sink unit and mirror from the rest of the room, which he goes behind, indicating for me to follow. He opens a new toothbrush, handing it to me after he squirts toothpaste onto it. Stepping in front of the sink, I stare at my pale reflection in the mirror. There are dark circles under my eyes and my cheeks look hollow. I’ve lost too much weight.
As I begin to brush my teeth, I notice Ivan inching closer. I watch through the mirror as he presses his face almost into my hair and inhales deeply. It reminds me of when he did the same after I sprayed the perfume. He trails a finger along my bare shoulder, his eyes drifting closed. The opportunity is too good to pass, so I carefully lean closer until I feel his warm breath on my neck. Then I angle my body so his crotch area is in line with my arse before bending slightly to rinse my mouth. I hear his sharp intake of breath and glance back over my shoulder innocently. His eyes are heated, and I lower my gaze to his erection straining against his trousers.
When I stand, our eyes meet in the mirror. He reaches around my shoulders and tugs me against his front. “Sladost, you’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispers.
He takes my hand and leads me towards the bed. That anxious feeling reappears as he tugs back the sheets and stares at me expectantly.
“Are you going to . . .” I trail off.
“Get in,” he tells me.
As I slide under the sheets, he pulls my towel away and immediately covers me with the sheet. As I sink into the bed, I groan in pleasure. It’s been such a long time since I slept in a warm, soft bed. Ivan goes back over to the chair, turning it to face the bed. Then he takes a seat and stares at me.
IVAN
Smelling the products Lara loved from the bottle is not the same as smelling them on a real woman. The entire bedroom smells of Lara, and I relax back in the chair, enjoying the vision of her I have in my head.
