THE GIRL TIED to my chair is a mystery. And when she refuses to answer my previous question, I pull the remnants of the bacon away and tell her, "Fine. No more bacon for you," in my best impression of theSoup NazifromSeinfeld. Fuck, I love that episode.
It's a shame to deprive her really, because it brought me a lot of pleasure seeing how much she enjoyed eating. Especially bacon. And let's face it, bacon is fucking awesome. Given her thin frame, I suspect she's not used to the finer things in life — like bacon and doughnuts.
Damn it, now I'm hungry for doughnuts too. But room service only brought up some sort of berry croissant.
Fuck, why am I even thinking about doughnuts and croissants right now? I need to get my head in the damn game.
Shaking my head, I grab a full glass of orange juice. "Thirsty?" I ask. "Fresh squeezed," I remark with a grin. I take a healthy swig of the juice and moan in delight. "Delicious."
Her eyes meet mine, and she quirks a blonde brow at me as if silently questioning,Are you seriously torturing me with food right now?
Okay. So it's no surprise that I'm not good at this torture thing, but I know how I get when I'mhangry— hungry and angry — and that's almost as bad as torture. So if she's as hangry as I am right now, maybe food is the right method to get her to talk.
She stares at the juice in my hand as I bring it closer to her. And when she licks her lips, I know I have her right where I want her.
"Just answer my question, and you can have as much as you want," I tell her.
She narrows her eyes at me and then says with a huff, "Fine." I wait for her answer with bated breath, and I don't even have time to prepare myself when she answers with, "He was my husband."
Her husband?
I am so floored by her response that it takes a few moments just to process that fact in my overactive brain. Talk about being shocked. I would have been less surprised if she would have told me she was a fucking astronaut…or hell, the leader of a secret underwater city filled with mermaids.
Even though I have all of her information laid out in front of me, I feel like I'm missing a big piece of the puzzle here.
Her name is Katerina Fedorov. She was born in Russia and is twenty-six years old, a few years younger than me.
And she apparently just murdered her husband.
But why? There has to be a motive behind it. There are, of course, the obvious reasons — he was old enough to be her grandfather and, let's face it, he didn't exactly try to keep up in the looks department.
But she must have loved him at some point if she married the guy. So what gives?
True to my word, I lean over and bring the glass of juice to her full lips. I pour the liquid into her mouth slowly, and I can't help but allow my gaze to linger over her delicate, slender neck as she swallows.
I should be terrified of this pretty, little murderer; but for some reason, she doesn't scare me at all. Maybe it's because of the fact I have her tied up right now, but I like to think that deep down she wouldn't hurt me.
There's an overwhelming sadness behind her blue eyes that I just can't shake. This girl has been through a lot. And like some sort of glass puzzle, I just want to break her open and put her back together again to get the whole picture.
Katerina's scent wafts over me, and I inhale it greedily. She smells like flowers and, like, fucking sunshine…if that even has a scent. I don't know how the hell else to describe it, but she smells incredible.
After a few seconds, I take the now empty glass away and sit back in my seat again.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Jackson."
"So, Jackson, what are you going to do with me?" she questions me.
I shrug and take a bite of toast, chewing quietly. "Not sure yet," I answer her honestly. "I need to talk to my cousin about that." I'd been so caught up with this Katerina business that I haven't even so much as texted Lucien since our conversation last night on the phone. I heard my phone ringing earlier this morning, but I was too fucking tired to even answer. I smile when I think about Lucien's reaction to me not picking up. I bet it's driving him fucking insane right about now.
Offering her a bite of eggs, she takes it carefully. After chewing and swallowing, she inquires, "Your cousin?"
I nod.
"Who is your cousin?" she asks, but it sounds like a demand.
"No one you would know, but he's powerful. Can make things happen. Can give you a new identity and make you disappear," I tell her. "If you want," I add quickly.
