8. Lacey
8
LACEY
What the fuck?
What the actual fuck?
My heart stops. The world tilts beneath my feet as I stare up at the last person I expected to find here.
Vadim towers over me, his large hand pressing firmly against my mouth and muffling any sound I try to make.
My entire body freezes at his proximity, but something else stirs awake.
His other hand rests at my waist, steadying me. The touch sends sparks dancing across my skin. My knees feel weak, threatening to give out, but his grip keeps me upright.
My pulse races beneath his palm, and I can't help leaning into his solid warmth.
I close my eyes, trying to regain control, but that only intensifies everything—his proximity, the heat radiating from his body, the way my own form seems to melt against his frame.
The rational part of my brain screams at me to pull away, to demand answers about why he's here in the apartment I shared with Nathan.
But my traitorous body has other ideas, responding to his presence and closeness in a way that make coherent thought impossible.
I feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks against my ear, and another shiver runs through me. My fingers ball into fists so tightly that my knuckles turn white, desperately trying to anchor myself to something solid as my world tilts on its axis.
"Are you going to be quiet if I remove my hand?" His low voice sends chills down my spine.
I nod quickly, desperate for him to let me go.
The second his palm leaves my lips, I unleash the loudest scream I can muster.
His hand clamps back over my mouth instantly. "That was very stupid, Ms. McKinney." His breath tickles my ear. "I won't ask again."
Pure instinct takes over. I bite down hard on the flesh of his palm. He jerks back with a curse, and I bolt for the bedroom. My legs feel like jelly as I sprint across the apartment, my heart thundering against my ribs.
I'm halfway through slamming the door when his foot connects with it. The wood splinters and crashes inward. Before I can react, his body slams into mine, tackling me onto the bed. The mattress bounces beneath us as he pins me down, his weight pressing me into the comforter.
"No!" I shriek, thrashing against him.
But he's too strong, too heavy.
I feel something silky press into my mouth. It takes me a moment to realize that it's his pocket square.
There's a weird metallic taste to it.
And despite my best efforts to spit it out, I can't. Terror grips me as he presses the full weight of his powerful body against me. He grabs my hands and pin them against my back, sending an unholy mixture of panic and excitement shooting through me.
The combination of his weight, the scent of his cologne, and both the heat and proximity of his body awaken something primal inside me.
Something that makes me want him to do more.
Something that I definitely should not be feeling.
Shame floods my mind at my body's response. An unexpected shiver rushes through my core, and wetness starts pooling between my legs.
I squeeze my eyes shut, mortified by the way my own body is betraying me. Even as terror still pumps through my veins, there's an undeniable pull. A magnetic draw that makes me want to arch into him rather than away.
And just then, a new dark thought claws at my mind and nearly makes its way to my lips were it not for the gag in my mouth.
Please don't stop!
I hear the sound of fabric tearing and squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation of his rough touch against my skin.
But to my disappointment, the touch never comes.
Instead, he ties my hands with what I can only guess is a strip of the bedsheet that he's torn. The movements are precise and practiced. He grabs my hair and yanks my head up just enough to tie a piece of fabric in front of my face, keeping the gag firmly secured in my mouth.
Then, his weight disappears.
And I almost beg for him to come back.
He pulls me back up to standing, his breath hot against my ear. "You're coming with me."
I struggle against him but it's useless. He's too strong. Too in control. With no other choice, I walk where Vadim guides me, toward the front door.
My thoughts turn to Dad. I left before he woke up this morning. Who's going to make sure he eats? Takes his medication? What if he wanders off looking for Mom again? What if Freddy comes back to steal again? The guilt and worry crush my chest even as Vadim marches me forward.
The wet morning air hits my face as we exit the building and down the block towards a red Ferrari that looks completely out of place in this neighborhood. He opens the passenger door and helps me inside with surprising gentleness that doesn't match the insanity of the situation.
The engine roars to life. As we speed away from the curb, I glance at Vadim's profile in the dull morning light, wondering what the fuck just happened.
My heart's still racing by the time we get on the highway, my wrists burning against the makeshift restraints.
Vadim reaches over, undoes the fabric holding the gag in place, and pulls the pocket square out of my mouth.
I gulp in fresh air, working my jaw to ease the ache.
"What the hell were you doing in my apartment?" The words burst out before I can stop them.
"Don't you mean your ex-fiancé's apartment," Vadim corrects, his eyes never leaving the road.
My mouth drops open. "How did you?—"
"You told me yourself, zvyozdochka , remember? What did you say? The ring seems more committed to the relationship than he was. And seeing as how you had a key to this place…"
Heat rushes to my face as I recall our first meeting. "That doesn't explain why you were here.”
"And what brings you back?" He ignores my question as he glances at me briefly, storm-gray eyes glinting.
"I—that's none of your business."
"You mentioned finding him with his secretary three nights ago. Most people either wait longer or don’t come back at all.”
I squirm in my seat, the restraints chafing against my wrists. "Stop acting like you know me."
"I'm just repeating what you've already shared." His lips curve into that infuriating half-smile.
"You still haven't answered my question. What were you doing in that apartment?"
"Perhaps I was expecting you to return my dry cleaning personally."
"At six in the morning?"
"You were there at six in the morning," he points out.
"That's different! It's my apart—" I snap my mouth shut, realizing what I'm about to say.
" Was your apartment," he corrects. "Past tense. Just like past fiancé. Now answer me. What were you planning to do there?" Vadim's question cuts through the tense silence.
"I didn't exactly pack a change of clothes when I left the other night." I try to keep my voice even, but the tremor in it betrays me. His gaze flicks to me for a brief moment, and I cave. "I just... I just needed to shower and change. Before I try and put my life back together."
Something in Vadim's expression shifts as it softens around the edges. His jaw unclenches slightly, and there's this look in his eyes I can't quite read, like he's thinking about something else entirely.
"Where did you go?" I ask, desperate to change the subject. "After we danced at the Vorobyov event?"
The corner of his mouth twitches. "I was busy."
"Fucking Irina?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. My cheeks burn hot the instant they leave my lips.
Vadim glances at me, his storm-gray eyes dancing with amusement. Then he throws his head back and lets out a deep, rich laugh that fills the interior of the car.
"Stop laughing!" My hands ball into fists behind my back. "It's a yes-or-no question."
"Are you jealous, zvyozdochka ?" His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge that makes my stomach flutter.
"Yes!" I snap, shifting in my seat to face him better. "I am jealous. She kept touching your arm, leaning in close, batting her eyelashes at you..." Heat creeps up my neck as the words continue pouring out. "Don't pretend you didn't notice. She practically marked her territory last night."
"So did you ." His smile widens, showing perfect white teeth.
"That's different!" I shift against the restraints, frustrated I can't gesture properly. "You asked me to dance. Not the other way around."
"Then you should know that there's a reason I asked you to dance, and not her." His voice drops lower.
"Does that line usually work for you?"
"Obviously not last night." He glances at me, storm-gray eyes dancing. "Tell me how it made you feel. Seeing her hand on me."
"Like I wanted to break every one of her perfectly manicured fingers," I mutter before I can stop myself.
I hate how petulant I sound, but I can't seem to stop myself.
"Such violence." His deep chuckle sends shivers down my spine. "I almost didn't think you had it in you. But then again."
He holds up his right hand, and I see where my teeth have left their mark.
"Serves you right for trying to kidnap me."
"Trying? I think I was quite successful."
I bite my lip, suddenly aware of the fact that I am still tied up in his car after he broke into my ex-fiancé's apartment.
"Just answer my question. Did you fuck her last night or not?"
"I didn't."
Unexpected relief floods through me at his words.
Why do I care who Vadim sleeps with? He's practically a stranger—someone I met barely two days ago.
And, I remind myself, someone who just kidnapped me.
Yet here I am, feeling things for a man who probably has women throwing themselves at him everywhere he goes. Women like Irina—sophisticated, wealthy, and connected. Women who belong in his world of high fashion and luxury cars.
Not a fashion school drop-out who's working catering jobs while her ex-fiancé has been cheating on her for god knows how long.
"You're thinking too loud," Vadim says, breaking through my spiral of self-doubt.
"I'm trying to figure out why I care." The words slip out before I can stop them. "About you and Irina. About any of this."
His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. "Have you?"
"I don't know." I stare out the window, watching the city blur past. "I have no right to feel this way about someone I barely know. I mean, look at you. You probably date supermodels and movie stars. Someone...” My voice trails away.
"Someone proper?” Vadim finishes for me.
"Yeah, that.” The ease with which he says it shouldn't have hurt as much as it does. "And not..."
"Not what?"
"Not someone like me." The words taste bitter on my tongue.
Vadim stays silent, but I can feel his eyes on me during quick glances away from the road. I want him to say something in retort, something like he prefers the improper ones.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he asks. "Any other questions?"
I shift in my seat, the restraints still binding my wrists, and disappointment fills my heart.
"Did you plan on fucking me last night?"
He looks over at me, and that unreadable expression in his eyes still remain. In the morning light, his storm-gray irises look almost transparent.
"I did."
My heart skips. "And what about now?"
"I still do," he replies. "But I also want to protect you."
"From what?"
"It's better if you don't know." He says it so casually, like he's commenting on the weather. “Some answers can get people killed."
I fall silent, his words settling heavily between us. His response only spawns more questions, and I'm starting to think I might not want to know the answer to any of them.
He keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead, jaw clenched. The speedometer climbs as we race down the highway, and silence stretches between us like a rubber band about to snap.
Curiosity and fear war in my mind until finally, a new question claws up my throat. When I speak, my voice comes out smaller than I intended.
"Are you going to hurt me?"
His head turns, and those storm-gray eyes lock onto mine.
"No." He pauses, and then his lips curve into a promise. "Not unless you ask me to."