It’s time to talk to Kira.
Chapter Nineteen
Kira
Day three in Roman's compound, and I'm learning what it means to be property.
Chattel.
I have no autonomy.
I’m given a schedule and expected to follow it.
The room they've given me is beautiful with views of the garden that might be peaceful if I wasn't a prisoner. But beautiful prisons are still prisons.
My phone is gone. "Security purposes," Roman said with that smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Can't have any breaches before the wedding."
He's cut off my ability to communicate with anyone he doesn't control.
And Anya. I’m certain that is who he is really trying to cut off. He wants to control me through access to her.
Asshole.
Guards are stationed outside my door. They follow me everywhere—to meals, to fittings, to the bathroom if I let them. I've gotten used to the constant surveillance, the eyes always watching, cataloging my every move.
Roman has scheduled every minute of my day. Wedding preparations, he calls it. Torture, I call it.
My schedule is pretty consistent. In the morning, I meet with the event coordinator about flowers I don't care about.
Afternoons are fittings for a dress I'll never want to wear.
Evenings are dinners with Roman where he discusses our future like he's planning a hostile takeover.
Which, I suppose, he is.
The worst part is knowing Maksim is right next door. I can hear him sometimes through the wall—pacing, talking on the phone, existing just feet away while I slowly suffocate.
We haven't spoken since that night in the sitting room. Since I begged him to help me escape and he walked away.
I lie awake listening to him move around and wonder if he's figured it out yet. If he's started to see the trap Roman built for both of us.
Or if he's still too committed to my destruction to realize I’m not the danger. I can’t prove it, but I suspect Roman was somehow connected. I don’t know how and I’ll never be allowed out of my gilded cage to investigate.
Which means Maksim is exposed. And quite frankly, good. He’s made his feelings clear. I tried to help him, but he won’t see what’s right in front of his damn face.
On the morning of day four, I sit in my chair, drinking the tea that’s been delivered and stare out the window. I try not to think about my future. I know it’s short. I know I will not live to be old and gray. Will I have a year? Five years? It’s hard to stare down my own mortality. Roman will insist I have at least two of his children, preferably boys, and then he’ll be done with me. I will have children and never see them become adults.
The sigh escapes me before I can stop it.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at my door.
And then it’s thrown open.
Two guards escort my sister inside.
She looks terrified.
"Kira!" She runs to me. I catch her in a hug that feels like drowning.
