ALINA
My body wakes up before my brain does. There’s a dull ache along my thighs and hips, not painful exactly, just a reminder of last night. My lower back feels tight and there’s a slight tingle between my legs, but I still feel warm and cozy. I roll over, wanting to check my phone to see what time it is, and then I remember that I don’t have my phone.
This is not my bed. It’s not my apartment. In fact, I don’t know where the hell I am right now, and that’s by design.
As my brain does finally wake up, it remembers all the horrible things that happened last night. Kostya cheating. Meeting Andrei Markov. His car blowing up.
Then it remembers certain other things. Like his hands on my hips and the look on his face when he came inside me.
My chest starts to tighten in the way it always does when a panic attack is oncoming. Then I look over and see the indent in the mattress where Andrei must have slept. The panic dulls, replaced by an almost giddy sensation.
I felt magnificent.
Despite everything that happened, I had the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. The best sex, really. I have to stifle a grin, because the more I think about what happened, the better I feel. He knew my body like he’d been given a user manual. He made me feel things I didn’t think were even possible.
I sit up slowly, the concrete floor cool beneath my bare feet when I plant them down. The ache shifts again, sharper this time, and I hiss under my breath, pressing a hand to my thigh.
“Get it together,” I mutter to myself.
I glance around the room, grounding myself in the space. It’s pretty drab, with concrete floors and furniture that looks like it came from Goodwill. The curtains are old and limp, barely blocking out the sun. There’s no warmth or life in this place at all. I desperately hope we aren’t going to be staying long.
I have no basis for what’s going to happen next. My engagement is definitely over. Kostya isn’t who I thought he was. Neither is my father, for that matter. I don’t know when I’m going to get to go home again, or even to my job. I have no phone, no computer, no car, no way to interact with the outside world.
The panic comes back sharply and I have to try some grounding exercises just to breathe normally. I carefully pick up the discarded sweatsuit from last night and slip it back on, realizing that clothes are another thing I don’t have here.
I stand and pace, my steps uneven as the adrenaline starts creeping back in. I run a hand through my hair, realizing just how much hairspray is still in it from the party. I don’t feel like myself. Everything is completely out of control.
I hear movement behind the closed bedroom door, and what sounds like typing. Andrei must be awake, which means I canask him questions. I can figure out the next steps. I slowly open the door and pad out to the living room where he’s sitting on the couch, looking composed and sure of himself.
“Good afternoon, Alina,” he says calmly. “Did you sleep well?”
I blink back at him in surprise. Afternoon?
“What time is it?” I ask in confusion.
He pauses, then inclines his head slightly. “It’s almost one. Are you hungry?”
“No,” I say firmly, although that isn’t true. I’m famished. “I need to call my father.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” he replies without hesitation.
My cheeks flame and my heart starts racing again. “Excuse me?”
“It isn’t safe for you to be making calls right now,” he answers, still calm.
“I am not a hostage,” I snap.
“No,” he nods. “But you are being protected, and contacting the outside world would put your protection in jeopardy.”
I start pacing again, anger buzzing beneath my skin, cutting through the lingering warmth from earlier.
“My father is going to wonder what happened to me last night, and he’ll freak out when he can’t get in contact with me. He’ll probably call my boss, who will also be wondering why I didn’t show up for work today.” I stop pacing as a new reality hits. “Shit, I’m going to lose my job because of this!”
Andrei watches me carefully, his expression unreadable.
“Andrei, you have to let me call someone to let them know I’m okay.”
“A good Bratva daughter would not suggest such foolish things,” he says mildly.
