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I drew in a sharp gasp and my body froze in fear as the memory of my encounter with Ivan Zolotov was evoked. The image of him standing over the body of that man sent shivers down my spine. What happened after I told him was pregnant with his child was somehow still a blur to me. I curled myself into a ball, praying that this was all just a dream. It had to be a dream, or some terrible prank, maybe?
I imagined a half-drunk Claire bursting into the room any minute and laughing at my expression, as Ben would follow closely behind with a camera in hand, filming every second of it. He would have a look of sympathy on his face as he felt terriblefor the cruel prank Claire had concocted, but would nevertheless remain loyal to her. He often told himself that it was his way of keeping her wild energy in check and preventing her from spiraling into self-destruction, but a lot of us wondered if the reverse wasn’t the case.
Finally, Charlotte would descend from the stairs, her hair still packed in a messy bun as her eyes would gaze leisurely at me. I thought about the smile she would give as she made a snarky comment on her newfound fascination with bondage roleplay, perhaps as something she picked up from the Japanese and classic French erotic novels I had recommended to her over the years. Then finally she would unlock the manacles and give me a long hug, apologizing for it all.
I sat in silence, imagining variations of this sequence, replaying them in my head constantly with the hope that if I did it long and hard enough, it would come true.
By degrees, it dawned on me that here in this dim room, I could hardly make out what day it was. Was it morning? Was it night? I couldn’t tell. All I could do was wait and pray that nothing bad would happen to me.
I rocked back and forth in a drunken state until, nearly lulled to sleep, I heard a thick metal door screech open.
Footsteps, uncomfortably slow and calculated in pace, began descending the quiet stairs as the silhouette of a tall man leisurely came into view. He stopped just in front of the steps and fixed his sight on me. Under the scant light, the dark figure appeared like a phantom peering into my soul. My body cooled to ice and my breath failed me.
He moved toward me, his gait as unhurried as ever, until he halted before me and at last his mature, slightly bearded face appeared in the hazy glow of the room. Before me, with an expression of undisguised rage and cold glaring eyes, was the man I had seen murder a man, the man I had lost my virginityto some weeks ago, and the same man whose child I was now carrying.
Before me was Ivan Zolotov.
I gasped and woke up, panting wildly as I felt around my wrists to find them free from chains.
It was all just a dream after all,I laughed in relief. The sound of birds chirping in the distance alerted me to my new surroundings. I was in a large bedroom lying on a king-sized bed wrapped in silk sheets. The beauty and decor of the room drew my breath away and I froze to admire the place. It was a setting I had only seen in movies or read in novels.
A dazzling chandelier hung from the ceiling and several candelabra bulbs lined the walls, illuminating the room. There was a large vanity fixed to one side of the room and a huge wide mirror that stood above it. Layers of damask curtains covered the great windows and the fragrance of vanilla, coconut, peonies, and some other scent I couldn’t quite identify pervaded the room. It had an instant calming effect. At the end of the room was a peach-colored leather armchair.
"So, you're finally awake, huh?" Ivan said. I turned to find him standing by the bathroom door. I gasped sharply and shrank in fear.
He arched his eyebrow in a smirk and scoffed. He walked and sat in the armchair with his legs crossed.
"What’s all this about you being pregnant?" He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a luxurious golden lighter, "Start at the top."
"I-I did—Well, I'm—" my breath abandoned me as all I could see was a cold killer.
I clasped my hands firmly, struggling to calm their trembling. "I'm pregnant and it's yours," I finally said.
"And how are you so sure it's mine?" He grimaced, "It could've been someone else's."
"T-That's not possible," I said. He immediately spun my chair to face him and his chiseled face was staring directly at mine.
"And why is that, huh?"
"Because I hadn't slept with anyone else before or after you that night... Like ever," I revealed at last. A wave of embarrassment barraging me.
He took a step back and chuckled to himself, "For some reason, I'm not even surprised by that fact. That explains the tightness. So, what is it you want now?"
"What?"
"Is it money to get an abortion? You here to blackmail me into getting cash perhaps? Well, what is it?" He glared at me.
"No, I—"
I couldn't speak. Tears began to form around the corners of my eyes, but I fought against shedding them, terrified of how he would react.What is that I wanted from him?
Ivan took a deep breath and got another cigarette.Not now. Not that horrid smoke.
"So, what do you want now, Audrey?" He asked after taking a long puff.
I steeled my nerves and looked him straight in the eyes, "I plan on keeping the baby and I wanted to tell you, in case you wanted to be a part of the child's life."
There was a pause in the air, as though time had frozen. Ivan stood there paralyzed in silence for a moment. My heart raced as the courage I had just mustered rapidly dissipated.
