“We need to talk,” she blurted out, halting before my table.
Never in the history of any relationship had that sentence led to anything good.
My heart skipped a beat as a strange kind of fear crept into my mind. “About what?”
“About what you plan to do with me,” she answered, arms crossed over her chest. “The way I see it, you have two options.You can either kill me or let me go because I’m tired of wasting my life away in these walls.”
My brows drew together as the idea of watching her walk away fueled my rage.
“You have to pick one, Demyon,” she continued. “I can’t keep living like this. I want my life back!” Her voice rose in the last sentence, her tone dripping with desperation.
I locked my jaw, trying to control the rage swelling within me. “It’s not safe out there.”
She let out a frustrated groan, leaning in with her hands on my table. “You keep saying that, but can’t you see that it’s not safe for me in here either? I’m losing my mind, Demyon!”
Unable to hold it in any longer, I snapped. “Goddammit, Eva!” I slammed a fist on the table, a glass tumbling from the surface and shattering into shards across the floor. “You have air in your lungs, a roof over your head, and food in your belly. What more do you want?!”
“Freedom!” she exclaimed, her voice rising above mine. “I want my freedom, Demyon!”
The pain in her voice did something to me. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I didn’t like the feeling. Especially when I spotted the unshed tears in her eyes.
She continued, “You keep me locked up in here. I don’t go to school, I’m not working, I’m not being productive—I’m just wasting my life away!” The words spilled from her mouth in a frantic rush. “All for what, hmm? For your entertainment?”
My chest heaved with slow breaths, my fingers curling into fists on both hands.
“I’m tired of playing your games, Demyon!” She looked right at me and added, “You can’t control me anymore. I’m done!”
“You’re done only when I say you are!” I rose to my feet, my tone harsh and authoritative.
Her eyes widened in fear, shocked by how I’d reacted. Her bravado faltered as she blinked back tears welling in her eyes.
I walked around the table and stopped in front of her, wearing the meanest expression I could muster. “You forget your place, Eva. You forget who I am and what I’m capable of.” I glared at her, my blood boiling with rage. “Do not test me.”
She stood frozen, her lips trembling as she looked at me as if I were a monster. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and stormed out of my study, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
“Fuck!” I let out a frustrated groan, raking my fingers through my hair. “Fuck!” My voice was much louder this time, filled with rage.
I didn’t mean to be a dick—I didn’t mean to scare her away. I was just afraid of losing her and hated the fact that she wanted to leave me. In an attempt to wrestle back control, I gripped the edge of my table until my knuckles whitened.
The echo of her words kept clawing at me, reminding me that no matter how hard I tried, her first instinct would always be to run away from me.
That was the price for being a monster misunderstood by everyone.
Later that evening, I called for the one person she was closest to in the house. The chef, Olga. She was the oldest domestic staff member at the mansion, the only one I listened to and respected because she was old enough to be my mother.
The door to my study was open when she arrived. She knocked on the doorframe and stood at the entrance. “You asked to see me?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Please, come in.”
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“Sit down.” I gestured at the visitor’s chair, my voice low and polite.
She sank into the leather armchair, her eyes pinned on me. “This is about Eva, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice thick with a Russian accent.
I wondered how she knew that, but then again, she wasn’t born yesterday—she must’ve been watching us. Or perhaps Eva had already run to her, crying.
“Did she tell you anything?” I asked. “Did she complain about something to you?”
