11. Lena
CHAPTER 11
Lena
M y head is hurting, and people are talking around me.
“Welcome back,” an unfamiliar man says.
I’m lying on the cold floor. I notice Alek right away as he points for the man to leave. The older man looks down at me, and I attempt to sit up.
“Stay fucking still; you may have a concussion,” Alek grumbles as the old man takes his leave.
“Who was that?”
“The doctor,” he says, as if it’s obvious.
“Oh. Why was there a doctor here?”
“Well, I figured you didn’t want to go to the hospital and get hit with a bill. So I called him over.”
“That’s awfully nice…” I stop myself and look up at him. More likely, he doesn’t want questions about his shady business.
“Wait, why am I on the floor?”
“You fainted, and I didn’t want to touch you.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” I say sarcastically.
I try to sit up again when he walks off.
“Do not faint again. I need rest and can’t get it if you won’t leave.” He reaches for a single glass on his counter and fills it with water, then hands it to me. It’s then I realize he still hasn’t put a shirt on. His toned abs are hard not to look at, and he has ink snaking up one arm.
“It’s still really weird you own this house; it feels like a display home,” I tell him, glancing around at the almost empty rooms and trying to avoid his bare chest.
“You just say the first thing that comes to your mind, don’t you?” he asks, not at all impressed.
“It comes naturally. In the way that you snap your fingers and expect people to jump for your attention and at your next command because you have the money,” I reply.
“Do you hold bias against those who have money? If I pay for a service, I expect it to be fulfilled, no questions asked,” he states. “I came from nothing, and built up everything I have.” He pulls the glass from my hand, careful not to touch my fingers as he does so. He puts it in the sink and looks down at me. “Stand. Slowly.”
“I don’t come from money. My parents are middle class. Same house, same cars, same jobs all my life. They worked hard and never really went any further than where they started,” I tell him, and brace myself as I push myself up. “So I suppose I just don’t like you, personally, because of your shitty attitude. Money aside.” I get a little dizzy, but I manage to stand.
“Must be nice to have parents. Shitty attitude aside.” His words hit me, and I pull back as I look at him.
For the first time, I don’t have a snide comeback because I never even thought of this man as human, let alone… lonely. Then again, Alek seems like the type to isolate himself. He hates talking to people. Was Cinita the only person he confided in?
“Why are you searching so hard for Cinita?” I ask. “She never committed to any man, that much I know. So why her?”
I think he’s about to stop talking entirely, like during all of our other encounters, but instead, he simply says, “Because she needs to be protected. She gets lost in the danger.”
“And you’re not dangerous?” I ask rhetorically. It leaves my mouth before I can think better of it .
“Yes, but I am the lesser of the evils. I saved her once in a brothel; she had a needle in her fucking arm and was half dead. And she ran off to them again.” My jaw drops. I had no idea Cinita was in that deep with this type of shit. “I need to find her.”
“I don’t understand why she’s your responsibility. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want help, hasn’t she? Not once did she mention your name.” Clearly, she doesn’t want to be found by Alek.
He steps up to me, getting close but not close enough to be touching. “What do you know?”
“I know nothing. I was making an observation on what you told me.”
“I found her once. I can do it again.”
“Are you in love with her? Is that why you’re trying so hard to find her?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer or move. “Have you even slept with her?”
His gaze dips to my lips as I lick them. Being around this man is scary, and adrenaline is pumping through me in the way you know you’re too close to playing with fire.
“No.” I don’t know which question he’s answering, but I don’t push because I sense his uneasiness. And Alek Ivanov seems unpredictable.
He continues to stare at my lips, and I clear my throat, reminding myself that it’s not okay to objectify this man in a sexual way. Even though without his shirt it’s really hard not to consider what might be past his defined V-line.
“Okay, can you call me a cab or something?” I ask, my voice cracking. Stupid horny thoughts.
“Who will watch you when you get home?”
“Watch me?”
“Yes, your head. If you sleep, you need someone to wake you every few hours to check on you.”
“I…” Well, it’s only been me since Cinita bailed.
“You live alone,” he states. I hate how he already knows that, but he acts like he knows everything about me. I look him dead in the eye, still trying to avoid his gaze, and nod. He curses under his breath. “I’m going to take a shower. You can get into my bed in the meantime.”
“What?” I snap to attention. “I’m not—”
“Now, Lena.” He starts to walk away, and when I don’t follow, he calls out, “I’m not being liable for your death only hours after you signed a new contract to privately perform for me.”
Oh, so he’s saving his own ass. It makes sense. but still… He looks over his shoulder, that no-nonsense gaze landing on me. My feet start moving at this silent command that seems more potent than the first. I follow him down the hallway, a massive space without a single painting or picture on the walls. He’s waiting at the end of the hall, holding open a door.
I peer inside, and it’s just like the rest of his home—practically bare. A large bed is centered against the far wall, two side tables, a mirror on his cupboard and no other furniture. But I do see a TV across from the bed. But when I take two more steps in, I notice a large painting of a ballet dancer. It’s unsettling since he most likely associates it with Cinita.
“I can go home,” I say. “Call a friend.”
“It’s late; get in bed. I don’t sleep anyway, so I can check on you.”
“How do you not sleep?” I ask, my brows pulling together.
“Just get in the bed, sunshine. I want to shower.” I bite my lip to hold in the old man joke that comes to mind about it being past his bedtime.
Am I out of my fucking mind? Well, yeah, but I also have a concussion and passed out on the floor minutes ago, so what’s the worst that could happen?
“Shoes off before you get on my bed,” he orders. I walk past a large mirror on his cupboard and look at myself. My head has dried blood on it, and the bandage covers my forehead near my hairline. I look like a hot mess; my hair is everywhere, and most of it has fallen out of the tie I had it pulled back in .
“Do you at least watch TV?” I ask as he pulls the covers back. I just can’t imagine him watching… well, anything.
He grabs the remote without answering. “Here, get in bed and put some shit on. Don’t die while I shower.” He throws the remote back on the bed, then stalks past me and straight into the bathroom.
Not long after, I hear the shower turn on as I look around. It’s so bare. Apart from the bed, you wouldn’t even think someone lives here. Sitting on the mattress, I kick my shoes off and cross my legs as I look for something that might tell me this man won’t kill me while I sleep. I know I should run, but I’m so fucking tired that I can’t fight it or him. And if he wanted to kill me, surely he would have done it by now, right? I mean, I passed out, and he called a doctor. Clearly, that’s a good sign. Isn’t it?
Fuck, I don’t even know. I hear the shower cut off, and I quickly turn the TV on. The volume is up high and assaults my ears. When I look up, I see a naked woman on the screen, and a man lies on the bed stroking his hard cock as he beckons her to come closer.
Shit, is this porn?
How do I turn this off?
“Tell me, baby, front or back,” she whispers and turns around to give him her ass. He slaps it as he gets up and spits on his fingers before he shoves them up her ass.
“I’ll take this later,” he says, then slides his very hard cock into her pussy. I’m trying to switch the channel and failing miserably, but I’m also stuck in a trance, watching it. So much so that I scream when Alek speaks.
“Do you like it?” he asks, standing in the bathroom doorway, wearing long, black cotton pants. He casually walks around to the other side of the bed and then climbs in. He looks way too good, lounging beside me in nothing but those pants. How could he look better than the man on screen? I wonder if his cock is just as big.
Fuck . Clearly, I need to get laid. It’s been too long—a year, to be exact.
I’ve been focusing so much on my career that I haven’t really had time to date anyone. Or wanted to either.
Maybe I should invest in some toys.
I snap back to my current reality with a half-naked man beside me, dazed that I lost focus so quickly.
“It was already on,” I tell him, handing him the remote as if it were poisonous. He takes it and switches the channel. “Does porn help you sleep?”
“Why? You want to watch some to help you sleep?”
The only light in the room comes from the glow of the TV, so I look at the screen to see he put on the news. I scowl. I hate the news. “You prefer the porn?” he asks, noticing my reaction.
“I prefer neither.”
“Has it been so long since you’ve seen a cock that you can’t help but blush?” he asks. I turn to look at him, shocked that he has the audacity to ask me something so personal. Well, at least that confirms he’s not a robot. He does understand the motions between being a woman and a man.
I then notice he’s not wearing his leather gloves.
“Why do you wear gloves?” He clearly hates physical contact, and I wonder how someone can cringe away from a touch.
“Why don’t you like porn?” he throws back.
I turn onto my side, giving him my back.
This man is insufferable.
Maybe not a robot, though.
But possibly a vault. Unmovable and most likely empty.
“Put on a movie,” I tell him. He switches the channel to a horror movie about a nun. Fuck . I close my eyes and try to think of something else .
“Scared of nuns too? Fuck. Cock and nuns; weird combination.” He changes the channel again, landing on a comedy. How did he know that? He wouldn’t have been able to see my face. The bed shuffles slightly, and curiosity gets the better of me. I peek over my shoulder and see a book in his hands.
Hmm… didn’t take him for the reading type at all.
“Go to sleep, sunshine,” he growls out.
“Make sure I wake up, okay?” I say. “I’m too young to die.” Before he can say anything, I add, “And no, that wasn’t an old man joke.”
“You’re a strange one.”
I don’t know why, but a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, because he is the last person who should be calling anyone weird.