He takes another sip of his drink. “You know why.”
"People will wonder where I am. The police?—"
"Won’t look for you." He sets his glass down and starts toward me.
“I have friends.”
“No one who will be immediately concerned when they haven’t seen you for a few weeks.”
His words hit me hard. Because he’s right.
Since the accident, I’ve struggled to get close to people. I mean, I have friends, just no one who will immediately miss me.
I back up instinctively, my shoulders hitting the wall beside the massive fireplace.
He stops a few feet away, close enough that I can see the darker ring around his irises.
"Also, the rent on your apartment has been covered for the next six months," he says conversationally, as if we're discussing the weather. "Same with your utilities. Phone. Power. You also purchased a flight to Boston, and it left on schedule, without you on it, but the ticket was used. As far as anyone knows, Holly Winters went away for Christmas. Oh, and you resigned from your job."
“What?” The word comes out in a harsh whisper as my stomach drops. "How did you?—"
He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket.My phone.He must’ve charged it on the plane.
"I'm very good at making people disappear when necessary." His gaze trails down my body, then back up to my face. "Though with you, I'm finding it difficult to decide if keeping you hidden is professional caution or personal preference."
Heat floods my cheeks. "You're a psychopath.”
"Perhaps." He reaches out, and I flinch, but he's only brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers are warm. "Either way, this will be your home for a while."
"Until when?" I hate how small my voice sounds.
“Until I decide what to do with you.”
The way he says it, with danger burning on every word, sends a cold shiver through me.
He comes closer, but I’ve got nowhere to go, my shoulders are already touching the wall. He stops only a breath away from me and I’m caught in his heat and intoxicating scent.
“Don’t mistake my hospitality for weakness,malyshka. That would be a grave mistake on your part.”
I swallow thickly. “Are you going to kill me?”
He tilts his head. “Don’t give me another reason to.” He steps back, and I can breathe again. "Follow me, I’ll show you to your room."
He heads toward the staircase, and after a frozen moment, I follow. Because what choice do I have but to go along with this until I can figure out a way to escape?
The second floor of the lodge is just as impressive as the first. Wide hallways with more timber beams, and more windows showing nothing but darkness and the suggestion of mountains beyond.
Nikolai stops at a door and pushes it open. "This will be your room."
I step inside, and my breath catches because the room is stunning and enormous.
A king-sized bed with a thick white duvet dominates the space. More floor-to-ceiling windows. A stone fireplace. A door that must lead to a bathroom. Another that might be a closet.
And sitting dead-center on that flawless white duvet is my suitcase. The one I packed to flee Seattle.
"Get some rest," Nikolai says. "Tomorrow we will talk."
I spin to face him. "Please don’t do this."
