There was a sudden dryness in my throat that made it difficult to swallow.
Fuck!
I was a very, very long way from home.
When the jet landed at the airport, its wheels meeting the runway with a gentlethud, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. I looked out the window, watching this new world, swallowed up by more snow than I’d seen my whole life.
He set his glass on the table. “I told you it was cold where we’re going.”
“Next time, be more specific.”
A flight attendant appeared, holding a long, furry coat draped over her hand. Balanced on it were a woven hat, a thick red scarf, and a pair of knitted gloves.
He rose to his feet. “You might wanna change into those.” His fingers brushed invisible dust particles off his black suit. “Unless, of course, you plan on freezing to death.”
When the jet door opened, my eyes squinted at the harsh wind that bit through the fabric of my clothes. I rubbed my palms together, my shoulders slightly raised as I stepped out behind him.
The Chicago cold was a joke compared to this; my arms were wrapped around me, and my teeth wouldn’t stop gnashing. It hurt my brain to even imagine what would’ve happened to me if I’d stepped out without wearing all this.
The wind wasn’t helping either, and I could barely see with my eyes half-closed. I hurried behind him through the airport, flanked by his men. The voices around me were deep and dangerous, and the language was Russian. I had no idea what they were talking about or where we were going.
As we neared a black SUV, two of the men opened both back doors, and we got inside. They shut the door, and the driver started the engine. The windows were closed, yet I was still shaking from the cold.
My captor, seated at the other end of the backseat, ignored me completely, focusing on the cigarette between his lips.
Despite the gloves, my fingers were numb, and my entire body was trembling. I felt pathetic, like a wet duck caught in a snowstorm. All that fire from a while ago suddenly seemed to have been extinguished, leaving nothing but a chill with teeth.
The city beyond the window looked stern and ancient—beautiful with old buildings and frozen canals. I was too busy fighting for my life to notice the landscape and the breathtaking view.
I rubbed my gloved palms against each other as the vehicle drove steadily along the road snaking through snowbound land. There were towering trees on both sides, the sun’s rays filtering through their leaves and branches.
We drove in silence for about an hour, his convoy dominating the lonely road leading away from the city. I wanted to ask where we were going and whether we hadn’t gotten there yet, but my brain was too frozen to function.
After a long drive, I spotted a looming silhouette up ahead: a massive structure of iron and stone. The gates parted, and we drove in, the serpentine driveway stretching forever.
The convoy pulled up outside the magnificent building, its glass-and-stone façade gleaming in the sunlight. The door was opened from the outside, and we both stepped out of the vehicle. My first instinct was to find the entrance of the building before I froze out here.
I couldn’t understand how or why neither he nor his men seemed as affected by the cold as I was. Maybe because they were used to it and I wasn’t. I rushed toward the front door, a giant wooden frame carved with the head of a roaring lion.
Two of his men pushed the door open, and I stepped inside without hesitation. I crossed my hands and rubbed my arms, the vapor from my breath swirling around my face with each exhale.
He walked in behind me, his voice thick as he spoke to his men in Russian, pointing at different parts of the house.
One of them lit up the fireplace, the flames crackling as the heat began spreading across the room. My shoes clicked against the dusty floor as I strolled over there to receive more heat. The furniture was covered with white sheets, hinting that no one had been here for a while.
I would later feast my eyes on the luxurious interior design and the portraits that adorned the walls. But for now, I was more focused on not freezing to death.
The sound of his approaching footsteps caught my attention, and when I raised my head, he was already standing across from me.
“This is my family estate, and I need you to behave,” he said, staring right at me.
His words triggered something in me, something aggressive.
“First, I’m not your pet,” I growled. “Second, I never asked you to bring me to your family estate or your hometown.”
With menacing steps, he walked closer, his gaze stern and unwavering. He didn’t stop until he was inches from me, and I could feel his breath on my face. I refused to be intimidated by his height or the intensity of his gaze. I refused to look away.
His hand snapped out, and he lifted my chin with his fingers. “If you want to keep that sharp tongue of yours, I suggest you bridle it.”
