He sipped his wine and replied in French, his accent fluent and convincing. Every syllable was crisply articulated—crisp—and if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was a native French speaker.
Show off.
I rolled my eyes and flicked my wrist dismissively. “Where are you taking me?”
His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Does it matter?” he teased. “You’re out of your ‘gilded cage,’ aren’t you?”
“I am. But now I’m being shipped to God-knows-where.”
He let out a soft scoff.
I stared at him, pushing thoughts of his handsomeness to the back of my mind. The man was attractive despite his ruggedness, but that didn’t change what he was: a monster.
He had all this power and influence, yet when I looked deep into his eyes, I saw something entirely different.
“I think I’ve figured out why you kept me around,” I said, leaning in with my elbows on my knees.
“You didn’t figure it out; I told you.” He lifted his glass to his mouth.
“You only told me what you wanted me to hear,” I insisted, my gaze unwavering. “But I know the truth now.”
He raised his brows. “Enlighten me.”
“You’re alone,” I blurted out, sharp and unapologetic.
His expression didn’t shift, and he didn’t utter a word; he just kept staring at me.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs, a small, knowing smile tugging at my lips. “I mean, you have all these men around you, protecting you and doing your dirty work. But none of them ever keeps you company.”
Silence.
“And that…is why I’m still alive. That’s why you’ve decided to keep me around—so you can have someone to play with.” I let my words settle for a moment. “Honestly, I’m not even mad anymore.” I shrugged my shoulders casually. “At least now I know my purpose. To help soothe your misery.”
His brows drew together, a faint scowl flashing across his face.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I added. “Tell me you don’t hide behind silence and control.”
His reply was short and simple. “You talk too much for someone with no power.”
I adjusted in my chair, fingers drumming against the armrest. “Power doesn’t intimidate me,” I said, holding his gaze. “I study it.”
He didn’t say another word. And although his face remained stoic, I saw the slightest crack in his expression, hinting that my words had gotten under his skin.
A faint, self-satisfied smirk played at the corner of my lips as I broke eye contact and turned my gaze back to the window. My brows knitted together, accentuating the confusion on my face. The sky I was looking at wasn’t the soft, amber glow of the Midwest I had seen some time ago.
This time, endless gray stretched over a landscape coated in ice, and even the clouds themselves seemed different. Cold. I noticed the snow wasn’t fluffy; it was windswept and hard-packed.
The scenery from up here looked rather familiar, and when I faced him again, he had a smug smirk on his lips. I squinted at him, my head slightly tilting to the side.
A flight attendant’s voice—soft and calm—drifted through the jet’s cabin in Russian, announcing our arrival. I had no idea what he was saying until he repeated it in accented English.
“Prepare for landing in Saint Petersburg.”
My brows yanked up in disbelief.You gotta be shitting me.
He raised his glass by a fraction, retaining that pesky smirk of his. “Welcome to my hometown.”
Russia? We were in Russia?
