“I-I can put those on myself.”
“That’s fine. I’m sure I’ll get a good look at them when I’m kneeling between your legs, tying your ankles and wrists to the chair.”
That’s an image I certainly didn’t need put into my head.
“Play nice, don’t fight me on this, and I’ll make sure I’m the only one who sees you wearing that while in such a vulnerable position,” Dominik offers.
One man instead of three or four lurking, gawking while I’m restrained with no way to stop them from touching me? I’d be stupid to refuse his offer.
“Fine,” I whisper, hating every part of this, including how much worse the alternative is.
“Once you’re dressed, you can cover up with the robe hanging in the closet before we go to the study. That’s where everything has already been laid out,” Dominik tells me.
As if a flimsy robe could hide my embarrassment behind it. Still, being covered with anything is better than nothing.
The ropes bite into my skin while tape seals off my mouth. The tight corset crushes what little breath I have left.
Being so powerless, so exposed, a single tear slips before I can blink it back.
“Look at me, Alina,” Dominik demands, his phone in his hand. “It’s just for a few more minutes.”
There’s something in his voice I can’t stand, not pity, but regret, like he hates this almost as much as I do. How dare he feel bad about the shit he’s putting me through?
I force my spine straight, the only defiance I have left.
Dominik nods as if in approval. Then, he raises his phone again and snaps more shots. The soft click of the camera app is louder than it should be in the silence.
He even takes a photo while kneeling in front of me, making me wish my foot was free so I could kick him in the balls or his face.
“We’re almost finished,” he promises. “Keep your eyes on me.”
I’d rather not. Because there’s something dark in his eyes I can’t misinterpret now.
The bastard is turned on by this little scene.
At least my raging anger at him helps to calm my panic. I won’t be restrained by these ropes or silenced by tape forever with his eyes roaming over every inch of me, as if he’s forgotten that the purpose of these photos is to send my brother a message, and not for his own indulgence.
I feel violated. Like a private, carefully guarded piece of me is being turned into currency for a deal I have no control over.
Will Archer care that I’m being held by the Bratva? Will he give himself up to save me? Or will he leave me to fend for myself and go on with his life carrying the guilt?
“That’s enough.” Dominik finally lowers the phone and gets to his feet. His chest rises and falls as if it were such a strenuous task for him to complete. Sliding the phone back into his suit pocket, he reaches to jerk the tape off my mouth. It’s painful, but at least he did it quickly.
I exhale my first full breath while he stands there and studies me while I’m still at his mercy.
“Good. You’re pissed off now. I prefer that to the hopeless tears.”
“Fuck you.” I hate that he saw me cry.
One corner of his mouth curves up, not in amusement, but in what I think is meant to be respect. “You should be angry,dikaya koshka. It’ll keep you alive longer than the sadness.”
I don’t respond to that, and he finally begins untying the ropes, starting with crouching down to release my ankles.
My right hand is untied last. Dominik doesn’t retreat quickly enough once it’s finally free.
The sting of my palm slapping his smooth, shaven cheek is a welcome burn and the shock on his face makes it well worth it.
Dominik takes a step back, rubbing his face and watching me curiously as if he can’t believe I hit him as I get to my feet, ready to flee the room. “I probably deserved that, but could you at least use your words to fill me in on the specifics of why?”
