Chapter 9
Anya
Last night, my dreams were filled with horror. I don’t often recall my dreams, but they’ve left me haunted this morning. Maybe it’s because I’m more scared than I have ever been before. I dreamed that I was floating on a river of blood as he appeared; Nikolai. Plucking me from the river, he laid me down on the banks and sunk his teeth into my neck like a vampire, devouring me.
Once, I read a book about dreams and I know they’re all a subconscious metaphor for conscious thought. Nikolai is sucking the life out of me. Already, I can feel a craving for his touch that makes me sick to my stomach.
The man is obviously evil, so why couldn’t I resist him last night? I should have fought against him, scratched and bitten at his skin and flesh. Instead, I cried out for more and I know how wrong that was. My body had reacted in new ways. I had wanted him to keep going. I had been so disappointed when he stopped.
God, shame fills me like bile as I recall the way I begged and called him Sir. What the fuck was I even thinking? I guess I wasn’t thinking at all. I just wanted to find a way to dull the pain that simmers inside me, clearly driving me insane.
Sitting alone in my room, or my cell as I have come to think of it, I lay down on the bed, resting my head on the pillows and exhale heavily. Nikolai is an enigma. One moment he’s as cold as ice and the next he’s scorching me like a raging fire. I fear that I’m going to get burned.
At least, I have a respite for now. I heard him head upstairs an hour or so ago. He issued orders to one of his men to ensure that I don’t try to make any trouble. What trouble does he think I can make? He proudly declared that there is no way to escape from this place.
I make my way over to the window and gaze out at the city below. It’s alive with movement and traffic, even in the mornings, and the people below going about their normal lives look like ants from this height. I wonder if they have any idea about the evil that lurks in the shadows high above them. Forty stories up, I feel like Rapunzel, but nobody is coming to rescue me from this tower.
Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed and stretch my arms above my head before heading to the closet to look for something to wear. I wish I had my own clothes instead of this mishmash of items freshly selected from the hooker”s boutique. I go over the options. Dress after dress, short, tiny skirts that don”t cover me or allow me to sit. I”d never choose any of these. Nikolai probably guessed as much. Another thing he wants to humiliate me with. Groaning and scowling, I choose a black pleather skirt and cropped top. As trashy as they are, at least they’ll cover my private areas which is more than I can say for most of the items that have been chosen for me. I miss my dignity. It seems to have gone missing when I was brought here.
My stomach growls and I instantly remember that I haven’t eaten in more than a day. The last meal I had was before I headed out to my father’s club with my friends and that was almost two days ago. Though I don’t want to accept a morsel of food from that bastard’s house, I really am starved, and I know I’ll start to feel lightheaded soon.
Self-conscious about my outfit, I straighten my shoulders and try to pretend that I’m not dressed like a slut. I make my way out of the bedroom and roam into the living room to see Ivan standing in the doorway as if he’s been waiting for me.
“Dobry den,” he greets me stiffly.
“Morning,” I respond awkwardly, unsure of what to say to him as he peers emotionlessly at me.
“You are hungry?” he asks, gesturing to a small spread of food on the side table beside the leather couch.
I peruse the selection of pastries and fruit, sitting down on the sofa as I devour two almond croissants, an entire plate of strawberries, and a strange but delicious pancake that tastes like sweet cheese. The entire time I eat, I can feel Ivan’s gaze on me, but he doesn’t say anything. Though his English is weak, and I don’t want to reveal my knowledge of Russian, I long to question him about Nikolai’s motives for bringing me here. It’s a foolish thought because I’m well aware that he won’t tell me a thing.
However, I want to understand something, anything about Nikolai’s personality. He had no qualms about kidnapping me and he obviously relishes my distress. So far, that’s the extent of my knowledge. But there has to be more. If I can understand what fuels him, maybe I can unlock some crucial secrets that hold the key to my freedom. Everybody has a weakness and I’m sure that if I can find his, I can get out of here.
When I finish breakfast, I decide to explore the apartment a little. Ivan doesn’t stop me as I breeze out of the doorway past him. For the first time, I notice the paintings that sit proudly on the walls. One catches my eye, a depiction of a cherubic young family posing with a dog in a courtyard.
The artwork looks expensive and it’s clearly not a print. Though I’m no expert, the time I spent living in Rome and New York has given me some insight into culture and I appreciate art more than most, especially the lesser-known painters. I can’t help but think that the painting resembles one that I read about a while ago. Apparently, a few years ago there was a raid on a European gallery, leading to the theft of a prized work by one of the Dutch masters. Something tells me that this is the missing piece.
There is something contradictory about all the beauty in Nikolai’s home. For a man who can be so cruel and harsh, he’s clearly cultured with refined tastes. I wonder whether he fills his apartment with such lavish extravagance to fill the gaping void of ugliness in his soul. When I look into his eyes, I see nothing but darkness. If there’s any light hidden behind his black eyes, he keeps it well concealed.
He probably paid somebody to make his apartment look like this. I’m giving him too much credit. I have to be. I refuse to think of him as anything other than a monster.
At the end of the hallway, I notice that one door is ajar, and I peek inside, gasping as I realize that it’s a library. The entire room is lined with book-filled shelves. Stepping inside, I breathe in the air that reminds me of the musty, yet appealing scent of old books. There must be thousands of bound volumes in here. I peruse the shelves noticing classics in every language.
I’m shocked that a brutal thug like him even knows how to read. I make a mental note to tell him as much the next time I see him.
The oddest part about the room is how incongruent it looks in the modern apartment. Everything about this home screams of luxury but in this library, I feel like I’ve stepped back in time, into an English country house in the nineteenth century. I suppose it’s a little like Nikolai himself, full of contradictions that I just cannot seem to fathom.
I see a copy of Pride and Prejudice and smile at the sight of it. It’s always been one of my favorite books. After all, who can’t fall in love with Mr. Darcy and the way he entirely transforms himself thanks to Elizabeth’s fine eyes and sharp wit?
Plucking the book from the shelf, it occurs to me that this is a first edition copy, yet it looks like new. It must be worth thousands of dollars. I cradle the book in my hands and take a seat in a high-backed chair, tucking my feet beneath me as I lose myself in Regency England, letting my troubles ebb away.
The slamming of a door startles me, and I almost drop my book at the sound. Tensely, I set it down, listening to the sound of voices. I don’t recognize any of them, all talking in rapid Russian. I wonder how long it will be before I have to confront Nikolai again.
My face flushes as I recall the last time I saw him, when he abandoned me broken and wanting last night. I don”t want to see him, hoping he won”t find me in here, despite the fact that it”s a silly thought. I”m in his apartment, with nowhere to hide from my captor.
Before I can even finish the thought, Ivan storms in, his cold eyes pinning me like a bug under a microscope. “Mr. Volkovich wishes to see you,” he tells me. “You are to go to his study.”
“Do his legs not work?” I quip, smirking at Ivan even though he fails to react. “Is that why he couldn’t ask me himself?”
“Respect is important,” warns Ivan. “Do not cross a Volkovich.”
I should probably heed his warning, but I don’t. If they think they’re going to beat me into submission through threats and covert cautions, they’re wrong. See, I’ve realized something while I’ve been holed up here in the library. I was starting to forget who I really am, starting to lose sight of just how much strength I possess, but I’m not a weak little flower and I won’t be broken. I’ll fight if I have to, and I won’t stop while there’s a breath left in my body.
Following Ivan to another room a few doors down the hallway, I already feel my resolve weakening as I’m faced with the reality of a beautifully gilded prison. I long to fight but how can I fight when there is no escape?
When I enter the study, Nikolai sits at his desk with that same arrogant expression that he always appears to wear. Our eyes clash and I feel my heart begin to pound in my chest, painfully beating against the inside of my ribs. Swallowing hard, I steel myself.
“Anya,” he says jovially, like we’re friends or something. “Why don’t you sit down?”
It’s not really a question but an order and I oblige. I’m shocked to notice that it’s already dark outside. With no windows in the library, I had no idea how much time had passed. Surprised that I wiled away an entire day in there, it provides me with some comfort because at least I’ve found a way to fleetingly escape, even if it’s not a permanent solace.
“How was your day?” he questions lightly, even if it sounds like a loaded question.
Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “The best day of my life,” I sneer sarcastically. “How do you think it was? Just an ordinary day in the life of a girl who’s being held captive.”
Though I can tell that he wants to chide me, he doesn’t rise to my bait. I’m not sure why I’m determined to provoke him.
“I hear you have made yourself at home,” he comments, refusing to rise from behind his dark wooden desk. “Ivan said you spent the whole day alone in the library.”
Nodding hesitantly, I shrug. “There’s not a lot to do when you’re a kidnapping victim.”
Nikolai ignores my comment. “You like to read?”
I nod, trying to gauge his mood. “I do,” I admit. “I was always a sucker for a good book.”
“You will find any tale that you seek here,” he informs me. “This is a collection my family has built over generations. Of course, the complete set is not here in Las Vegas. It is scattered across my many homes but you’ll find enough here to keep you occupied for a while.”
“Well, that’s convenient,” I reply. “You know what would be even better? If you let me go.”
Laughter fills the air and Nikolai shakes his head. He leans back, stretching and I see a glimmer of the burden that rests on his shoulders. Some of the time, he appears carefree, but there’s pain bubbling under the surface of his demeanor. I wonder if there’s a way that I could exploit that somehow.
“Listen,” I say, snapping his attention to me. “You don’t have to do this, Nikolai. I don’t know what’s going on with you and my father, but if you let me go now, I can promise you that I’ll make sure he doesn’t come after you. Surely, having one less problem in your life would ease the strain on you, right?”
“It has been a stressful day,” he admits with a frown. “My business is very taxing at times. I could use one less problem in my life.” He pauses as his expression darkens. “But I haven’t become stupid, Anya. Letting you go wouldn’t ease my stresses, not when you’re the greatest asset that I have right now. You’re my little bargaining chip and there’s no way in the world that you’re getting away.”
As he surges to his feet, I stumble backward. “Please,” I murmur. I have to keep distance between us. After last night, that is the most important thing to do.
However, he’s too fast for me. I nearly stumble over my own feet as I try to run.
His hands wind around my upper arms, holding me in place—he’s close enough for me to smell the scent of mint and liquor on his breath. “You know what I need more than anything?” he asks me in what I assume is a rhetorical question. His tone is gruff and demanding and I baulk at the sound of it.
Shaking my head, I stare at him with fear in my eyes. “No,” I whisper.
Nikolai shoves me away and smiles, like a predator that has just spotted its prey. As he moistens his lips, he sits back in his chair, unbuttoning his pants, though he leaves the zipper closed. With lust shimmering in his eyes, he crooks a finger at me. “Come closer,” he drawls. “Kneel before me and I’ll show you.”
A shudder ripples through me and I remain frozen to the spot, speechless as he waits impatiently for me to obey him.