His staff are used to hearing people scream? What the fuck does that even mean? How many women has he handcuffed to this bed? And what did he do with them?
I don’t know the guy, but I do know that crime lords like him involve themselves in all sorts of shady activities. To own a forty-acre estate with quartz furnishing, you need to be stinking rich, and to be that, you have to be smart and play your cards well.
I’m not talking about academia, though.
I’m talking about the type of smart that has you getting away with murder and successfully dodging the law every day.
Sometimes I overhear my father discussing Nikolai Rogov at the office with his employees. It’s always bad stuff. But then again, my father isn’t exactly a saint either. And there’s a thin line between hatred and jealousy.
I continue searching with my free hand for a spare key. The mattress is big and I can only reach a portion of it handcuffed to the headboard. I pat the sections I am able toreach and… nothing.
Frustration rushes through me.
I throw myself forward but the chain recoils me straight back to the headboard. Kneeling, I search behind it, my eyes scanning for something between the thin gap.
Still nothing.
Shit!
I can’t let Sophia marry into the Bratva. I just can’t.
I was barely twenty-three when Mom died, returning home from a run. I was dehydrated, desperate to get my hands on an ice-cold glass of water, but father was standing out on the porch with red eyes. He was crying, which he never does. He told me that there was tension between some of his competitors at work, and that one of them hired the Bratva,takingMom as a result.
“The guys name is Timur,” he said.
“And where is Mom now?” I asked. “Let’s go and get her.”
“No, Lauren. Theytook her life.”
He couldn’t even say the word die.
A big piece of me also died that evening. It was summer and a beautiful sunset was arriving in the sky, but after hearing the news, everything turned grey. My thirst disappeared. I no longer wanted water and food—not just after the run; for the two months that followed. All I wanted was a miracle. For my mother to somehow resurrect and surprise me with her presence.
I slept at every opportunity because in my dreams, Mom had come back and we were family again. Every time I heard a knock at the door, I thought it was her coming home. One time, I was catching the MARTA into the city, and I swear I saw her get on too. Brown, shoulder-length hair, just like mine. I thought I caught a glimpse of her favorite dress, the one hand-stitched by an Aboriginal Australian when she went traveling there before I was born.
It turned out to be just my imagination.
Father said time is the biggest healer. It isn’t. My body still remembers how it felt that evening. And I haven’t gone on a run since. It’s all too painful.
I always told myself that nothing could beat the pain of losing Mom. I was wrong. The death oftwoloved ones would sting twice as much, and I think I’d end up dying of heartbreak if that ever happened.
And with Sophia marrying Timur Gusev, things are heading in that direction…
I desperately yank the handcuffs again, teeth gritted. A tear slips from my eye, and I wipe it away.
Dammit!
But then, I hear footsteps. Long strides, echoing down the hallway, heavy and purposeful. Someone’s coming.
The door opens, revealing Nikolai Rogov’s looming figure.
It’s like the temperature drops a few degrees. A shiver runs down my spine and goosebumps prickle across my skin. Even my nipples react to the shift in the atmosphere, puckering against the thin fabric I’m wearing. Too bad I’m not in a position to cross my arms. Besides, when did my body start reacting to Nikolai Rogov of all people?
The whole thing is ridiculous. It’s starting to feel like the beginning of a BDSM porno with the dark lighting, the mahogany wardrobe and dresser, and the four-post bed that has the same, velvet curtains as the other room. All that’s left to do is to light the pillar candles sitting on the dresser, and for Nikolai to rip off his clothes.
I can’t help but wonder what he looks like naked. If his cock is as hench as the rest of him.
Dammit, Lauren!
