He never took the collar off.
Vitali pulled the shirt over his head and buckled his belt. He fastened his watch and glanced at the time.
“You knew…” I whispered, wide-eyed and still pantless.
“I talked to Misha earlier. But see, you told me you’d never lie to me and we had to test that,” he said, walking to the door. I scrambled off the bed, the leash in my hands and tried to gauge how long it was because none of this made sense.
“Vitali—what is this?” I demanded.
He stopped in the doorway. “You went where you’re notsupposed to. So you’ve lost the privilege of leaving. Misha found a lead on Elena, so I’m going to meet him and you’re going to stay here.”
“You can’t!” I tugged the leash, then immediately dropped it, feeling for the back of the collar. Another lock across the steel links. “Vitali!”
“Be a good Kotik,” he said. “And think about what you did wrong.”
The bedroom door shut behind him.
37
Caught
“VITALI!”
I have never been so angry.
“Vitali! Goddamn it!” I growled, pacing back and forth as much as the leash allowed—and it wasn’t much. Just short enough that I couldn’t reach the window or the dresser, and long enough that I could reach the bathroom sink. My pajama pants were out of range, but his discarded t-shirt wasn’t, so I wore that instead. I might’ve been a dumb bitch on a leash, but I wasn’t about to Winnie-the-Pooh the night away.
He’d been gone for a couple hours. I had nothing to do but roll up in the blankets and think of all the ways I was going to hurt him when he returned. Puthimon a leash.
No, I was too angry for bad thoughts that led to good thoughts.
The mirror showed me the exact flavor of crazy he’d left behind. Messed-up hair and remnants of makeup smeared under my eyes. The bruising still very much visible on the right side of my face. A large t-shirt hanging nearly to my knees.
A Goddamn liar is what he was. Lying to me about not knowing where I’d been—lying to me to get me to hold up my own hair so he could snap the collar on me. Undoubtedly laughing all the way to wherever he went about ‘Kotik learning her lesson.’
I’d show him Kotik learning her lesson.
I tore through the nightstand, but it was on my side and nearly empty. I could reach his with my foot, but all I’d done was kick the lamp over. It popped two flashes of warm light and went out, unplugged, leaving me in the dark.
I dropped to the floor, pushing aside the blankets and untucked sheets. There had to be something sharp nearby. At least something I could use to twist the leather up—enough tension and anything could snap. My hand closed over something thin and hard, and I pulled out one of the stilettos from Saturday night. Something poetry—something something—his vanity being his undoing. I hit his stupid little lock, and when it showed no obvious point I could pry at, I sat my butt down and tried to snap the heel off—maybe there was a sharp edge somewhere I could use to saw through the leather where the clasp attached.
Unfortunately, withMr. FerragamoVitali apparently paid for quality and looks, because despite my best efforts, the shoe wouldn’t come apart.
So I threw it as hard as I could.
The clink of it hitting glass exploded into the scream of a thousand pieces splitting and falling as the window light reflected off each individual sliver of the mirror in motion. I yelped and scrambled atop the bed as shards came sliding across the floor.
My excitement of getting a sharp object quickly dulled at the realization that I’d just destroyed the mirror and made anincredibly big mess out of something that could have been construed (by some people) as a cruel joke.
No use crying over spilled glass.
I wrapped my hand in the top sheet and snatched up the biggest piece I could see, then began sawing at the part holding the metal rings together at the bedpost. It wasn’t easy, and I took exactly three breaks, but in the end, it weakened enough that I could brace my feet and pull until it broke off.
The room was destroyed, but I was free.
I plugged the lamp back in; the last thing I needed was to step on bits of my embarrassing tantrum. But the mess was not the first thing I saw.
The light flickered before it stabilized, and the empty mirror frame greeted me with its wooden backing. A wooden backing where countless pictures of another woman had been left taped up.
