As the days pass, I explore the inside of the mansion, even the parts that aren’t finished yet. I avoid Yulian and try to stay busy because I’m going a little crazy locked up in here.
It’s no different from my brother’s place, though. There have been a thousand rules since we moved here, each of them stricter than the last. It was almost impossible for me to go anywhere without an entourage of guards—useless guards, apparently. And I wasn't allowed out after sunset. And my brother had to know where I was and whom I was with at all times. It was annoying and smothering and, oddly, more claustrophobic than this place.
It’s quiet here. And so beautiful. He has a love for lush green plants and bright light. It makes my soul smile to wander around this place.
But…it’s boring. By day three, I’ve seen enough. I want to leave. I want to see other people. I want to read a book or walk through a mall or freaking anywhere.
I wonder if he has books somewhere? Just not unpacked yet, because the shelf he’s building isn’t finished?
Maybe he has storage outside? Everyone has books. I just need one. Something to distract me from the monotony of nothing.
The guards don’t mind me walking around the garden. They greet me with friendly smiles. As long as I don’t go near the gate, they have no issue with me.
Yesterday, I sat with my feet in the pool. It’s too cold to swim, but the sun was nice and warm, and it was pleasant to enjoy the cold bite on my toes.
Today, I walk past the pool towards a building I’ve been eyeing near the back of the house. I’m assuming it’s a storage space.
As I walk closer, I hear the sound of hammering. I pause, tilting my head to the side. What in the world?
Another few steps, and I can see through the wide-open doors facing out into the garden. Inside, Yulian is working, shirtless, bent over a long strip of raw wood, hand planing the edges smooth. I watch as he pauses, grabs a hammer, knocks out an old nail, then picks up the planer again and carries on. He’s lost in his own world, his face relaxed, his muscles taunt and glossed with sweat against his tanned skin.
He hasn’t seen me. And I’m struggling to look away.
I watch for ages as he carefully works along the wood. After he’s planned it, he takes a piece of sandpaper and gently brushes his hand up and down the perfectly curved edge. Hepauses, brushing his fingers over it to see how smooth it is, then carries on.
So he did make everything himself. I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen someone with skill like that. He’s actually an artist. It’s incredible. I’m completely shocked.
When he’s done with the shelf, he picks it up, a heavy chunk of wood that makes his arm and chest muscles ripple. I bite my lower lip, swallowing hard.
He carries it over to the side of his workshop and props it against the wall. I’m so mesmerized that I don’t realize he’s no longer focused enough not to see me. When he turns back to his workbench, his eyes snap right onto me, standing there like a perv, my eyes lingering on his glistening muscles.
“Katerina, are you enjoying the show?” he muses.
Immediately, agitation floods me. Agitation because I got caught. And agitation because I’m so turned on, it’s making me blush.
My stupid hormones tip the scale on my rationale, and suddenly I’m storming into his workshop in a rage.
“Listen here, asshole. You keep making these lame little remarks. Stupid comments. Jokes. As though this whole situation is a joke to you. You kidnapped me, and I want to go home. There is nothing funny about this. I. Want. To. Go. Home. Why am I here, Yulian? What is your plan with me? Are you going to ask for ransom? Are you going to use me to negotiate something with my brother? Can you just hurry up with whatever twisted plan you have up your sleeve so I can get the hell out of here?” I blurt out a long string of questions, heated and fierce.
He cocks his head to the side, listening calmly, a crooked smile on his lips.
“You done?” he asks when I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him.
“No, I’m not done. I’m not done until you let me go!”
“Well, I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he shrugs casually.
“When, then? What are you going to do to me?”
“What do you want me to do to you, Katerina?” he muses, smiling wickedly.
“Stop deflecting. Answer me.”
“Stop denying what your body wants and let yourself enjoy something for once.”
“For once? I enjoy plenty of things, thank you very much. What I don’t enjoy is being locked away in this house. I’m going crazy with boredom. You suck as a host. There isn’t even a book to read. No one to talk to. How do you expect me to keep my sanity!”
My voice is getting higher-pitched the angrier I get. I’ve been holding back, and now it’s flooding from me in an emotional mess.
