“Well, I think I see potential leverage here, brothers,” Konstantin pointed out.
“I’m listening,” Viktor prompted.
“I mean, with her being under our hold, she can’t take any more steps, can she? So, we can move faster when we know the other side is stagnant. For now,” he explained.
“You think her being confined will stop her people from moving forward?” Roman inquired.
“I know so. They can’t do much without her. Besides, rugged lawyers like her are more of one-man battalions,” Konstantin answered, his tone confident.
“And if it turns out that she’s not like the others you know so well, what happens?”
“Okay,” Viktor’s voice ended the commentary.
Even our right-hand men and soldiers who weren’t one of the Lobanov brothers knew that thePakhan’s‘okay’ was an absolute summons. It had the same effect as a gavel struck against a sounding board in a courtroom.
“She will be eliminated once the lawsuit is neutralized. For now… Damian?”
“Brother,” I answered.
“Keep her there,” he instructed.
“Okay.”
While I accepted the order externally, I felt something fracture internally.
*****
The need to assert control over logistics and anything else I could think of drove me to her room hours later. Even then, she wasn’t any less calm. If anything, she seemed to be more relaxed. Her gaze met mine the second I opened the door.
“I guess I shouldn’t waste my greetings like I did earlier. So, I’ll just get to it,” she uttered, sitting more upright against the headboard. “I need healthy food. I won’t be fed scraps like a prisoner. Also, I drink water a lot, so I’ll need bottles of water frequently, not just with food. A change of clothes, too. I didn’t really plan to wear these for days, I’m sure you understand that. A television or papers would be nice. You can block out the news channels if it makes you sleep better; I just need to hear sounds. I guess that’s all.”
“You’ll have none of those things, I assume you already knew that,” I replied.
“I’m not asking you to give them to be. I expect to have them in the very least. Unless you personally handle these provisions of mine, you can rest assured that I won’t cooperate—and in case you don’t already know, you’ll be needing it.”
I recognized the tactic instantly: control through routine. But, whatever the reason was, I should shut it down. She didn’t get to choose what she got in confinement.
But letting her think she can get what she wants is strategic. Isn’t it?
It’s temporary.
“Okay,” I agreed, my gaze level like I wasn’t still asking myself questions mentally.
*****
As evening fell, I returned to her room with a tray of food. One of the soldiers had offered to take it, but I’d snapped at him; an uncharacteristic display of temper would have made his eyes narrow in suspicion if he had the balls to maintain eye contact.
“I handle it now,” I told him. “Food, rules, movement. You don’t speak to anyone but me.”
He nodded before disappearing as I walked down to her room. Again, I entered the room without stopping to knock. I went straight to the stool beside the dresser and placed the tray on it before shifting it to the foot of the bed, where she now sat. I rose to my full height while she shifted closer until her feet were on the floor.
The scent of garlic and spice filled the room as she opened the plates. I folded my arms and leaned my back against the wall facing the bed as she dug in.
Elena ate slowly, every spoon lifted with tender intentionality. Which was quite interesting, considering how formidable she was when it came to talking or arguing with me. Everything fascinated me, from the movement of her mouth to the calmness of her posture. She was fully aware of my gaze but didn’t seem interested in making demands anymore.
Watching her eat felt intimate to the point of being uncomfortable. The control of the room shifted slightly—and I hated the fact that I noticed it.
Soon enough, thankfully, she was done. Not that hearing the soft, childish sigh she released as she dropped the spoon went unnoticed by me.
