Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“W hat are you doing, Emily?! Tell him you love him! Tell him!!” I screamed at the TV as Emily Cooper let the door shut, not telling Gabriel—the man she loved— she had feelings for him.
I never considered myself a lazy person, but since being locked up here I’d found that if the situation called for it, I could be lazy. So lazy, in fact, that I’d managed to binge watch the first two seasons of Emily in Paris on Netflix.
I was just as confined here in this house as I was down in that torture chamber. At least here, I had a comfy bed and a flatscreen TV. That kind of made up for it.
After Aleksandr left last night, I’d fallen straight to sleep, emotionally and mentally drained.
I hadn’t planned on fucking him, or spilling my entire life story to him, but Aleksandr had a way of pulling things out of you.
And after his own declarations, it’s not like I could deny him answers.
Not after he’d been so forthcoming. After he’d told me what happened to his mother.
His poor, poor mother .
I’d thought numerous times about what it would feel like, if the situation were reversed and it had been my mother who’d been raped and tortured.
I couldn’t stand it. Not even the thought of it.
I had no idea how Aleksandr was even walking around with all that guilt and anguish. Even though it wasn’t his fault.
It just showed what a strong man he was, to be able to put all that away and continue on.
I hoped, after talking with me, he understood that it really wasn’t his fault. That he shouldn’t blame himself. I wanted to relieve him of all the pain he was feeling, all that guilt he was carrying around. If I could, I would take it for him, so he didn’t have to live with it anymore.
Any thoughts of escape vanished with that one conversation.
He’d not only shown me his vulnerability, but he’d made it crystal clear he planned to release me, that he wasn’t going to hurt me.
By letting me call Juan and arranging a sit down, he’d proven that he was hoping to part amicably.
That he didn’t want a war between the cartel and the Bratva.
Which was a good thing for us, because I didn’t think we could survive a war against them. They were too well organised. The number of men I’d seen patrolling this place alone showed me how outmanned we were.
I didn’t know what they’d ask for in exchange for my release. All I could hope for was that it was something we could give them.
I picked up the remote and pushed play on the next episode of Emily in Paris, much more invested in this show than I should be. I reached for the half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich somewhere on the bed next to me without taking my eyes off the screen, taking a bite out of it.
When the old woman who brought me food gave me this earlier, I almost couldn’t believe it. I mentioned once to Aleksandr that I love grilled cheese sandwiches and next thing I know, I have an entire plate heaped with them.
The man knew the way to a woman’s heart, that’s for sure.
I snuggled further into the bed, watching the TV while munching on my food when the door suddenly burst open. Aleksandr strode in, startling me. I fumbled for the remote, bouncing it from one hand to the other as I quickly tried to turn off the TV.
There was nothing wrong with watching rom-coms. I just didn’t want Aleksandr to know I’d wasted a solid twelve hours doing nothing but watching this show.
But he wasn’t looking at me. He was pacing up and down, anger prominent in every thump of his booted feet hitting the floor. He muttered to himself in Russian, waves of fury flowing from him, his muscles bunching, his hands clenching into tightly balled fists.
I frowned, pushing the blankets off and slowly getting to my feet. “Aleksandr?”
He didn’t acknowledge me, just marched from one end of the room to the other, lost in his own thoughts.
I approached him like I would a skittish animal in the wild. “Aleksandr?” I tried again.
“Glupyy, staryy ublyudok. Kak on posmel.” He continued to speak in Russian, making it difficult for me to understand him.
“What’s happened? What’s the matter?”
“He just thinks he can come in here and order us around. Who the fuck does he think he is?”
My frown deepened. “Who? Who are you talking about?”
“Moy dedushka.”
I took a step closer. “I’m gonna need you to switch it back to English, Big Guy. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
His eyes finally landed on me, full of fury. “My grandfather. He’s here, from Russia.”
“Okay?” Usually, a visit from your grandparents was a good thing, but the way Aleksandr said it made me think it was the opposite.
“You know he tried to sell my sister? Like a piece of meat at the market. He made a deal with another Russian family. Her hand in marriage for access to their supply routes.” He shook his head, his voice shaking with agitation.
“We haven’t seen the man in years and yet, here he is, trying to tell us what to do. ”
I tried to keep up with him. “I thought your sister was already married? To that Italian guy? Artis?”
“Arturo. She is. My father orchestrated it to keep her out of the Tarasovs’ hands. And my grandfather is pissed .” Aleksandr resumed his pacing. If he didn’t stop soon, he was going to wear a hole in the floor.
“Here, come sit down.” I took a seat on the edge of the bed and pointed to the ground in front of me.
He obeyed (which just went to show how out of it he was). He sat down, leaning his back against the bed, legs bent and arms resting on his knees.
I gripped his shoulders, pushing my fingers into his skin, massaging his tense muscles.
Aleksandr groaned, his head rolling forward. “Fuck. That feels good.”
I smirked, running my hands down his back and up again, applying pressure here and there. “So, your grandfather is mad because he didn’t get to marry your sister off like he wanted to?”
I’ll admit, I had a hard time understanding the whole arranged marriage thing. The cartel didn’t operate that way. We married for love. At least, my parents did. It wasn’t used as some sort of bargaining chip or to form alliances. I’d noticed the mafia was big on it though.
“Mad would be an understatement.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I asked, pushing my fingers deeper and deeper, relishing in the low moans falling from his lips.
“Yes. An angry Sergei Volkov is something to be very, very wary of.”
I moved my fingers to his hair, running my nails over his scalp. He groaned again, relaxing a tiny bit.
Some of the anger had faded but he was still tense, still boiling with frustration.
I realised a simple massage wouldn’t relieve him of all that anxiety and fury. Whatever was going on in that head of his was too much. He needed something more. A bigger distraction.
“Hey, can I take you somewhere?”
He looked over his shoulder, frowning at me. “Take me somewhere?”
“Yeah. Just this little place I’d go to any time I needed to work out some of my anger.”
He eyed me suspiciously, looking for some ulterior motive.
Honestly, I couldn’t even really blame him for that. I’d hesitate too if our roles were reversed. But I wasn’t trying to escape. I wasn’t using this as some sort of ploy to bolt the second he turned his back.
I genuinely thought this would help him.
“I promise, I won’t try anything. I won’t run.
I won’t fight. I won’t cause a scene or draw attention.
I just want to take you somewhere I think might help you deal with all that anger, like it did for me.
” Because no matter how long I massaged him for, I knew it wouldn’t get rid of all that tension.
His piercing blue eyes ran over every inch of my face, studying me intently. After a few silent seconds he exhaled heavily, shaking his head in disbelief, like he almost couldn’t believe what he was about to do.
“Where do you want to go?”
I smiled brightly, jumping to my feet. “It’s a surprise.
I need your phone first.” He didn’t hesitate, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to me.
I quickly searched up locations and then gave it back.
“Come on, come on.” I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up, with no luck.
“Jesus, how much do you weigh?” I grunted in effort, leaning back, trying to use a combination of my body weight and gravity to move him. It still didn’t work.
Aleksandr chuckled softly, pushing himself to a stand. “Enough.” He steadied me when I stumbled, his big hand wrapping around my shoulder.
“You big lug.” I tried the door handle, but it was locked. “What the?”
Aleksandr brushed his chest against my back as he stood behind me. I shivered at his closeness. He reached around me and knocked on the door twice.
It opened, a burly looking man with dark hair standing in the hallway. I glanced over my shoulder, arching an eyebrow.
Aleksandr simply shrugged. “Can never be too careful around someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“Devious. Sneaky. Vicious.”
I placed a hand on my heart. “Aw, that’s probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me before. You big softy.”
He rolled his eyes.
I turned back around. “Hiya.” I smiled, waving a hand at the man still blocking the doorway.
The man reached for his gun.
“It’s fine, Czar.” Aleksandr placed a hand on the small of my back, ushering me forward. “Let’s go.”
“Bye Czar.” I hoped I pronounced his name right. It was a tough one.
Czar glared at me before stepping to the side, allowing me to pass.
“Such a lovely bunch of people you’ve got working here. Truly lovely,” I commented, skipping ahead.
One of the doors to my left opened and a skinny kid wearing a backwards cap walked out, almost colliding with me. I’d never spoken to him but I’d seen him before, out training in the yard with Aleksandr in the mornings, and in that home-gym warehouse thingy.
“Whoa. Watch it, Short Stuff.”
His face was all banged up, like he’d just been in one hell of a fight recently, a spattering of bruises marring his light skin.