Chapter Sixteen
LUKYAN VOLKOV
“We gonna rock down to Electric Avenue!”
I bolted upright, the sound of music thumping against the walls so loudly they shook, waking me from my sleep. My gaze whipped around the room. Disorientation filled me for a brief moment before I fought my way through it, jumping out of bed.
Memories bombarded me, hitting me all at once like a tidal wave. The wedding. The altar. Beautiful, honey-colored eyes.
“Fuuuuuuck.” I ran to the door. Locked. “Fucking fuck fuck!” There was a window to the left, thick, heavy black curtains covering the glass. I flung them to the side and was faced with a steel roller sitting just behind the glass.
“Argh!” I yelled, slamming my closed fists down onto the dresser underneath the windowpane. I spun around, my eyes darting haphazardly from one end of the room to the other, looking for another form of escape.
There was none. I was in a standard bedroom. Beautifully decorated with plush, stylish rugs, oak furniture, and a huge four-poster bed. There was a bathroom off to the side, but even from my vantage point, I could see there would be no escape from there either.
My head pounded like a jackhammer, the music playing continuously in the background not helping matters whatsoever. I needed to get my bearings. Figure out what the fuck was going on. A plate of sandwiches and crackers sat on a tall table near the door, next to a glass of water.
That was what I needed. Fuel. Then I could fucking think straight.
I grabbed the plate and sat down on the edge of the bed, not hesitating to scoff it down.
Okay. What do I know? What are the facts? I’d not only been kidnapped by the woman who had been stalking me for the better part of a year, but she’d also tricked me into marrying her. That was something I had not been expecting. I knew she was crazy, but crazy enough to pull off a stunt like that?
No fucking way.
Now what was I going to do? Conversation from the night before flitted through my mind.
I couldn’t take her words at face value.
Just because she said everything would be okay, that my sister would be safe, didn’t mean I could believe it.
My grandfather made it very clear what would happen if I didn’t marry Anya.
How did I know that what Lyla told me was even the truth?
I needed to talk to someone. My brothers.
My father. Anyone. I needed to get the fuck out.
The music abruptly stopped. Thank fucking God. There was a rattle at the door, then, the knob began to turn. I placed my empty plate down and slid off the bed, crouching low. The door opened, and I lunged.
Lyla twisted and used my body’s momentum against me to throw me to the side. I crashed into the side table up against the hallway wall, smashing it to pieces. Ow.
Lyla sighed. “I see you’re still upset.”
I looked up at her amongst the rubble to see her standing calmly in front of me, dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, casual jeans, and a pair of black-and-white Converse.
She was fucking beautiful. I hoped I’d hallucinated her beauty, but that was certainly not the fucking case.
My eyes ran the length of her body, starting from her ankles, slowly going up and up until our gazes locked.
An aura filled the air—one filled with such raw, sexual magnetism it made my breath catch in my fucking throat.
Jesus. I’d never been so attracted to someone like that before.
So enamored. So fucking interested in another.
I picked myself up, wiping the dust from my clothes, and stared her down. “So what now? You going to lock me back in the room?”
“I thought we could go on a date.”
I blinked, surprised. Say what? She wants to go on a date? As in, leave the house?
I tried not to show my excitement. This would be my chance to get the fuck out of here. “Okay. Date sounds nice.”
She smiled. “Wonderful! Let’s go.”
Lyla turned and started making her way down the hallway.
I followed, my eyes scanning for anything I could use to my advantage.
She led me down a large, circular staircase.
First down one flight. Then two. All the way to the foyer.
My eyes couldn’t help but track her ass the entire time.
It was a good one. Plush and round. An image of me biting into it, leaving my teeth marks on her soft skin soared through my mind, and because I was a horny fucking bastard, my cock instantly hardened.
“Enjoying the view?” she asked casually, strolling right for the front door.
“Yes.” I didn’t see the point in lying. It wasn’t exactly like I could hide it.
She threw me a sexy-as-fuck smirk over her shoulder. In any other circumstance, I would have taken advantage of the burning sexual tension between us. It would be hot. Rough. Fucking unbelievable. But for once, I had to think with my head and not my dick.
She opened the front door, and I was greeted with that infernal steel roller security door. A number pad was on the door frame to the left. She entered the code in so quickly I barely managed to get any of the numbers. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t planning to be back in order to use it anyway.
The light above the number pad switched from red to green, and the door clicked open. I tensed my muscles in preparation. Lyla placed a hand on the door and started to slowly push it up—
I shoved her out of the way and bolted onto the front porch.
No. No, no, no. Skidding to a halt, I stared out into the distance.
“Oh, get fucked,” I hissed under my breath.
There was nothing in sight for fucking miles except rolling hills littered with mountains of snow.
We were out in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a single sign of life.
No other houses. No roads. Nothing. The realization that escape was firmly out of my grasp hit me like a ton of bricks.
The floorboards creaked. Lyla came up to my side, a smile on her pretty little face despite the fact that I’d just tried to make a run for it.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She sighed dreamily. “Come on, this way.” She turned to the right and walked down the veranda, disappearing around the corner.
My gaze flicked out to the distance again. Maybe I could—
“The closest house is miles away, and the temperature is set to reach a low of -9 degrees today. If you think you can make it before your balls freeze, go for it,” Lyla called out.
Grumbling under my breath, I followed after her.
A black Range Rover was parked at the back of the house.
She stood next to the open door at the back of the car, a white fur coat now draped across her shoulder, and a white beanie over her head.
In her hand was a much larger, matching coat, the fabric dangling off her fingertips.
“Not really my style,” I commented, my gaze roving, looking for something…anything that could help me escape.
“Yes, it is.” She said it confidently. With conviction. Not a single shred of doubt, like she’d bet her life on it. “It’s big and bulky. Exactly the way you like your coats, and I made sure to get it in your favorite color.”
My eyes ran over her, assessing. “How did you know white is my favorite color?”
“You forget I’ve been in your room. Multiple times. Sometimes when you were sleeping. Sometimes when you weren’t.” She winked. “I noticed a lot of your clothes were white. My guess? You like to wear it because of the way blood stands out on it.”
“Why would you think that?”
Her smile was devious. “Because that’s why I like to wear it.” She stepped back and gestured for me to enter the car with a swipe of her hand. “Come on. Get in.”
I ran through the options in my head. I could stand out here, freezing my fucking ass off. Go back inside and hope for another opportunity to escape. Or take my chances and get in the car with a crazy woman who tricked me into marrying her and kidnapped me.
We all knew which option I was going to pick, right?
Blowing out a huff that was only mildly filled with irritation, I walked down the few porch steps and over to the car. I snatched the coat out of her hand, somewhat haughtily, and climbed into the back seat. Lyla followed behind me, buckling herself into the seat next to me.
“You’re going to love this place. I did a lot of research beforehand. Made sure it was absolutely perfect. They’re rumored to sell the best Korolevsky cake in town.”
My head snapped to her. “Korolevsky cake? That’s my—”
“Favorite?” She turned to face me and gave me that fucking smirk that was quickly becoming my undoing. “I know.”
Of course she fucking did. What didn’t she know about me would be the better question.
I’d known for the longest time that I had a stalker.
Someone who was following my every move.
Someone who had an obsession with me. I guessed I never really knew what that entailed until then.
She seemed to know everything about me. Things that I was sure no one else knew. No one else even paid attention to.
She faced forward again. “To Tsar Café, please, Cedric.”
The man in the driver’s seat nodded once, and the car began to move. He was the same dude I’d knocked out the day prior. I didn’t feel bad about it. In my opinion, he deserved it.
I stared out the window, watching the world roll by. “Do you know why Korolevsky cake is my favorite?” I asked, keeping my gaze locked outside. I was curious exactly how much Lyla knew about me. Whether everything she knew was merely a coincidence.
“Because it’s known as King’s cake and you’re the ‘ring-a-ding-king’?”
“You’ve been listening in on my calls,” I stated.
“Well, we’re not really surprised about that, are we?” She chuckled.