With nothing else to do and no desire to return to my room to spend time with my thoughts, I let curiosity lead me. Fortunately, this place ishuge.I drift through it with my tea, taking my time. Less fazed by the cameras now that I know they’re not there just to keep an eye on me. I’d been so overwhelmed I couldn’t enjoy exploring yesterday.
I pick up where I left off with the library yesterday. The massive shelves are filled with books in different languages. English and Russian, I’d expected. But there’s some Armenian, too, I think. And then there’s the other rooms. I skip past the media room and his office. For some reason, I find myself lured by the gym, of all places.
It’s evidently a very well-used part of the apartment. The equipment is worn in. Studying the free weights, I can’t help but picture Iosif here. It’s impossible not to notice the powerful muscles all over his body. All I can think is:This is where he builds those.
I have to physically shake that thought out of my head.
That’s when I notice the draft.
It’s subtle. There’s a whisper of cooler air that tickles my ankles, coming from—
It looks like an ordinary wall. It feels like one, too, when I run my hands along the sleek paneling. It’s only when I press forward, leaning my weight into it, that I hear a click.
I barely have time to register it before the section of the wall is swinging inward, narrowly keeping myself from falling flat on my face.
Oh, shit.
It’s dark. So dark. Despite the way my heart begins to pound, my feet move. Toeing my way forward, I startle when I discover stairs.
I have to turn back. That is what a sane person would do, right? This is totally the part of the horror movie where the blonde actress ignores all the obvious signs warning her toKEEP OUT. I should turn around. I should…
My feet descend the stairs, logic be damned.
I walk face-first into the door at the bottom of the stairs. Groaning at the pain that lances through my head, I stumble right through it. Lights come alive all around me the moment my body crosses the threshold.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, choking the words out. My heart is in my throat.
Apparently, I am Bluebeard’s goddamned bride.
All around me, there are weapons. Medieval-looking weapons, to be more specific. Everywhere I turn, there are knives and axes and—swords?!What is he, a member of the king’s guard?
There’s no running away from it—I have legally bound myself to a full-on crazy dude. Though I may just be crazier. What other explanation is there for the way I just gravitate toward the mounted blades? They gleam where the light hits them.
Even the handles are ornate. Beautiful. Like something out of a fairy tale… albeit the part no kid ever focuses on.
I don’t even realize I’ve reached out to touch a sword until—
“Careful there,” Iosif’s voice sounds from across the room.
Startled, I whip around so fast I almost slice my palm open. He is towering over me in a heartbeat. One moment, he was across the room. And now he is in front of me, taking my hand, dwarfed in his as he turns it over, inspecting it for injury.
“What did I just say?” he snaps at me, frowning.
It has anger flaring beneath my breastbone.
“Hey,you’rethe one who appeared out of thin air in your creepy dungeon!” I scold back without thinking.
He rolls his eyes at me, like I’m being ridiculous. “It’s not a dungeon.”
“What else would you call this place?” I challenge. “I’ll bet this was your plan all along. You bring women here, right? That’s why you have all this stuff, so you can kidnap women and—andtorture them, and get off on your freaky sadomasochistic ki—”
Iosif’s cackling drowns out the rest of my words.
Or rather, it distracts me from them. From everything. His dark, severe features soften with his boyish laugh. It’s a surprisingly cozy sound. Especially from a man of his size.
I hate how aware I am of the moment he drops my hand.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I finally manage to say, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything, I sound winded.
