I have her, and that’s what matters.
Chapter 8 - Katya
I’ve never hated anyone more than I hate Sergey right now.
Lukov. That’s what I’m supposed to be called now. One moment, I’m living my usual life, going home for the night. And now, I’m married to a man I don’t even know. To one who placed himself on my path all for the sake of screwing over my brother.
To get a leg up in a world I have nothing to do with.
I could be furious at Yuri for pursuing this life in Dad’s absence. Hell, I could be angry with the latter for putting him on that track to begin with. And maybe I should loathe whichever one of his brothers killed my father.
But above all, Sergey wins. He takes the cake.
Throughout the entire flight, I felt as though I was vibrating under my skin, waiting for the moment to break free. I felt like I was moments away from snapping and doing something stupid.
Every part of me wanted to punch Sergey so hard he wouldn’t ever smirk again.
But now…I’m locked in his pristine, soulless house that feels more like a box than luxury. Even with the spotless paint, floor-to-ceiling windows, and the finest bedding a girl could ask for, I hate it.
Standing in the center of what he so graciously called my room, I keep my arms folded tight and pace with nothing better to do. The rage curls within my chest, waiting for the moment to strike.
Even if I grew up around wealth, this room is something completely different from what I was ever used to. Maybe Ishould be impressed by how luxurious a single room can be, but I decided from an early age that this kind of life wasn’t for me. I left it all behind for a reason, and now, I’m thrust right back in it against my will.
Of course, knowing this is just a high-end prison with a king-sized bed doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. Vegas skyline views or not, he left me locked in this room because he knew I wouldn’t calm down yet. Far from it.
Adrenaline and fury work hand in hand inside my chest while I reach for a vase in the corner and throw it at the wall. It crashes and shatters with a satisfying burst of expensive porcelain, only somewhat satisfying my lust for more destruction.
“I’m not your goddamn wife,” I utter into the empty air around me.
If he has a camera hidden somewhere in the room, then let him see. Let him hear just how much I despise him.
Sergey said he liked my anger, and there’s certainly no shortage of it.
I pace the room harder, pulling drawers open and slamming them shut again, rooting through the closet and the nightstands.
Checking high and low, I look for my belongings just in case he decided to have them hidden just to taunt me, but I don’t find anything. None of my clothes, no phone, and no bag. There aren’t even any spare clothes.
Which brings me to an indisputable fact: Sergey didn’t plan this ahead of time.
No…abducting me and forcing me to legally marry him was a short-sighted, last-minute decision. I’m sure of it.
But if Sergey went to stalk me without planning this part, then what was his actual goal? Why did he actually take me?
Too many questions take up space in my head, and I don’t have the energy to keep up with them all. I shouldn’t care anyway. I just need to get out of here.
Still, knowing he brought me here like a pet, he didn’t even prepare for it makes my chest tighten. My skin burns with a helplessness I haven’t felt since I was a teenager—before I got away and changed the trajectory of my life.
I was sick of watching men in suits walk through the house so casually while they did business with Dad, either leaving feeling triumphant or dying in his office due to their schemes getting away from them. Of watching how it darkened my dad and started to poison my brother.
I knew what happened to most young women caught up in that world, and I left it as soon as I could.
And here I am again. Powerless and seeing my worst nightmare actualized right before me.
Held hostage by a man who finds sadistic glee and amusement in my suffering. One with a twisted sense of what protection looks like.
He claimed it was for both my sake and his family’s, but even he doesn’t seem to know what he wants or what his true motives are.
Either way, I don’t want anything to do with it.
