“It’ll soon be 24 hours since I’ve had you in my custody. A clear message has been sent to him, and there have been no signs of communication from your father. He’s a weak man who can’t show his face against the Bratva.”
“He must be devising a plan to come save me,” I rushed.
He laughed.
“You’re delusional,” he disclosed.
************
Since my disturbing conversation with Viktor, I had been agitated.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been having doubts about my dad caring enough to come save me, but hearing it out loud made my fears more alive.
It was late at night, and I hadn’t seen Viktor since he left me in the room earlier in the afternoon.
I paced the length of the room in the jeans and black T-shirt I’d changed into earlier.
I’m really on my own.
I had been ruminating on my plan to escape the mansion all evening, and my fear of what Viktor’s penalty would be if his men caught me hadn’t subsided a bit.
I looked at the table clock on the left nightstand to see that it was 10:26 pm.
He might be coming in anytime soon.
It’s now or never.
Damn the consequences.
I approached the door and gingerly turned the knob. I was pleasantly surprised when the door opened. I looked around the dimly lit hallway to see if anyone was around. It was empty. So I closed the door without turning around to face the room.
Pursing my lips didn’t reduce the thumping sound of my heart as I padded down the hallway on bare feet.
I looked around again as I stalked down the stairs to the floor of my previous room.
Mentally thanking the powers that be for keeping everyone busy at the same time, I went down the last flight of stairs. I sighed in silent relief as my eyes landed on the back door that led to the back garden.
I took a step towards the door. My heart almost jumped out of my mouth as a strong arm wrapped around my stomach, pulling my back into a firm body.
“Try that again, little dove,” he rasped, his voice venomous against the back of my ear. “And I’ll tie you to my bed until you forget the existence of freedom.”
Oh, I’m dead.
Chapter Six
Viktor’s POV.
Black was the dress code of the day, and I was pleased that this impromptu reception had turned out well. The chandeliers shimmered in amber and white, flower vases of tulips and roses arrayed in a linear pattern at each side of the table, and quite a number of my fellow associates lit their cigars until the smoke rose linearly to the top.
To me, this was the ultimate bond of power. I could even feel the tension in the atmosphere. The men in black hand gloveswere the ones who did most of the dirty work. The killers, also known as my heartless men. The ones with the dark shades were mostly the guards who kept a good eye on everyone and everything. Even an insect could trigger their attention. And the ladies were the brains behind the brawn. We had associates with every sector in the country: the NYPD, the district attorney, Navy Seals, senators, and governors as well.
We sat in an order of hierarchy. Dmitri sat beside me at my right hand, wearing both a black hand glove and dark shades. My attention shifted to the faces of my members who looked at me keenly, their stern looks lifting almost immediately when the door behind us opened.
My wife, Emilia, walked into the mansion with her head raised high, revealing her smooth chin and graceful neck. She didn't walk as though she was scared of anything. With every step she made, I pictured how much she had a resemblance to the American actress, Marilyn Monroe. And I thought the gown accentuated her innocence—an innocence which I believed would be far gone the moment I let her into my inner chamber and informed her about all my dealings with the Bratva and the associates. I was happy she wore the gown. Indeed, it heightened her elegance and beauty. But the look my guards gave her seemed to be almost repellent.
I took a large gulp of my Scottish wine, stood up from my chair, and reached for her lower back with my hand. The material she wore was thick, yet I felt the sensation flow through me as though I touched her bare skin. Her eyes looked into mine, and I could tell that no matter how much she resented me, she still needed me. I was her safe space, and being my wife, I was in total control of her.
“Wow!” I turned to see Isabella Mozorov stand in awe. She threw her hair to the back and stood upright before walkingtowards us. “You look adorable.” She said, “Come take a seat with me, darling.”
