But even if it had been something that lingered in the back of my mind, I didn’t think it would actually happen.
Not seeing an end to my lock-up in sight just yet, I linger in bed, watching as the room slowly gets brighter.
Then, the door opens.
I expect it to be Sergey, but two maids in spotless uniforms file in carrying various shopping bags from high-end stores I haven’t blinked at in years. Some I never let myself even consider going to. All the luxury brands a spoiled teen would beg for.
Sitting up like someone has broken in, my brows pinch together. “What is this?”
One of the women gives me a polite smile while the other begins placing the bags and boxes down. “Things for you.”
My confusion deepens. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
Her expression softens slightly as she picks up on my misunderstanding. “It was arranged for you.”
Before I can question who, they start taking some of the bags over to the walk-in closet, seemingly unpacking everything for me.
“Stop…take it back. I don’t want any of this,” I try to tell them, but they don’t react in the slightest.”
Then, Sergey walks in while he adjusts his cuffs. His gaze briefly moves over me from where I remain in bed, still dressedin yesterday’s outfit that screams rags in comparison. This obvious power dynamic seems to amuse him.
“They’re just doing their jobs,” he says simply with a touch of innocence. “Since you live here now, you need clothes.”
I had every reason to assume he didn’t just fly me out here for some kind of vacation, but that statement still hits me hard anyway.
Living with…him.
The thought alone makes my stomach drop.
Somehow, Sergey saying it out loud only makes it feel more real.
“Excuse me?”
Sergey doesn’t bother to hide the intent behind his eyes, or the way he takes me in like I’m something he owns. His lips pull slightly. “As you said before, I didn’t put enough effort into my plan, so consider that error mended.”
The claim and reality of the situation make me want to hurl.
“You’re under my protection now, Kat. That means you need to dress accordingly, move accordingly, and breathe accordingly,” he says, sounding so confident with every word, almost like it should be obvious by now. “My wife can do better than jeans and a tank top.”
Before I know it, I’m pushing out of bed and reaching my feet. “I’ll burn every last piece.”
“You can try, but I’ll just replace them,” he counters smoothly, like the thought doesn’t bother him at all.
I deadpan. “You can’t be serious.”
“Entirely,” Sergey murmurs, taking a few steps closer. “I’m always serious about what’s mine.”
That word burns as it echoes in my mind, filling the silence that surrounds me. I swear, even the maids freeze.
As much as I want to, I don’t pull away. “Just because you forced me into this doesn’t mean I’m yours. I don’t belong to you.”
He smiles without taking my words into consideration, but it lacks softness. Instead, it’s the kind that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, and this is a game he’s more than willing to play.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
With an almost suffocating tension in the room, the maids excuse themselves, leaving the two of us to fester in it.
Unashamed, Sergey looks me over again, but he doesn’t comment on the sight of me. Instead, he stays quiet, leaving the floor open for me.
