11. Katerina
CHAPTER 11
Katerina
“Who are you!?” I choke out. My fingers twine into the terrycloth fabric of the towel, holding it like a shield against my body.
It practically is considering there’s nothing between me and this strange man but this towel.
The man’s beady eyes darken, his lips curling. “Ne govori. Prosto bud’ khoroshim. Vot dlya chego ty nuzhen? * .”
“I don’t speak Russian.”
“Ya skazal, ne razgovarivay. Idite syuda? * .” He takes several steps in my direction.
I take several more back. “Who are you?! Stay away!”
“Ty ne podchinyayesh’sya, devochka? Ya pridu k tebe? * .”
A scream sticks in my throat as the man closes in on me and grabs me by the arm. I jerk against him with little success, still forced to use my hand to hold up my towel.
“Stop!” I yell. “I’ll scream!”
He bares his teeth. The gold cap on his front incisor gleams in the light of the room. His breath is hot and putrid air that reeks of cigarettes, liquor, and lack of oral hygiene. I gag and twist and jerk to free myself.
“Do not struggle,” he says in English almost masked by his accent. “You struggle, I snap your neck. You scream, I kill you.”
“Then let go of?—”
His sweaty palm covers my mouth, effectively silencing me. The fingers of his other hand dig into my skin. He pushes me back until my body’s colliding against the wall and I’m trapped in his hold. For being middle aged with a potbelly, there’s no mistaking he’s still strong.
Brutish.
As he pins me in place and covers my mouth, he peers into my face, practically licking his chops. I realize there’s nothing I can do except continue pissing him off by fighting against him or biding my time and waiting for Roman’s return.
He has to be returning… right?
He said he’d be gone to get my clothes. How long does that possibly take?
Every second feels like torture as this strange, smelly man leers at me and makes me feel like some trapped insect at his mercy.
“You are whore,” he says bluntly. “That is why you come here. I will have you. But not right now. Later.”
I mumble against his hand. Each word muffled. “Roman will be back.”
He hacks out a laugh, a droplet of spittle flecking onto my cheek. “Roman is my nephew. You tell him about me, eh? You go to him?”
“Please,” I murmur, once again censored by his hand.
“You go to him,” he snarls. “I kill you.”
He removes the hand clamped over my mouth to reach down below and grope my pussy through the towel. I scream on principle alone, clenching up as if I’ve been struck.
It’s so much worse.
I would’ve preferred if he did hit me. His touch makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me feel violated, which says a lot considering I just got done bathing in front of a man I barely know. But while Roman’s attention was overwhelming and uncomfortable, it was nothing like this. It wasn’t menacing or terrifying like this is.
I’d rather take a thousand more baths alone with Roman before I ever let this man touch me again.
When he rips his hand away, I can still feel him between my thighs. The tiny hairs on my arms and the back of my neck have risen, my entire body paralyzed in place.
Nasty grin as broad as ever, he steps back and says parting words to me in Russian. “Proshchay, devochka. Poka my ne vstretimsya snova. Ochen’ skoro? * .”
His heavy footsteps clack on the hardwood flooring on his way out. The door slams, and I flinch as if he’s still around. As if I still have reason to be scared out of my mind.
…and I do.
Several minutes pass before Roman returns. I’ve settled on the foot of the bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. Neatly folded clothes rest in the crook of his arm as he tells me about one of his men pulling him aside with some news about his business dealings.
“It was important, devochka. Otherwise I would’ve been back sooner. Did my kitty cat freeze while I was gone?”
I can’t bring myself to answer him given what happened only moments ago. He sets down the folded up clothes and then tips my face up, two of his fingers under my chin.
“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Why do you look like that?”
I turn my head away from him, avoiding his gaze. “It’s nothing… I’m just…”
I trail off, uncertain what to even say. How do I even begin telling him what happened with the man who claims to be his uncle? Would he believe me if I told him or would it infuriate him I’m starting conflict between them? Would he consider it wrong that he came in here to harass and molest me when, by his own admission, I’m just some pet?
“Devochka,” he says more firmly. “Look at me.”
I do as he says, braving a glance up at him, though still silent.
“You are upset. I can tell by how quiet and frigid you are. Did something happen in my absence?”
Stick to your plan. Just… just bide your time and wait for an out. This could be a trap. You don’t know him, or any of them, well enough yet…
I shake my head no. “I’m just tired.”
“We gave you a sedative. It might take some time to wear off.” He grabs the folded up clothes he’s set down beside me and then tosses them in my lap. “Here. Change.”
The clothes unfurl across my legs, revealing a silky slip dress and diamond leather cuff. It takes me another second before I understand the cuff is actually a collar .
The shock must read on my face. Roman picks it up and turns it over in his large hand, effectively making the leather band seem small and insignificant.
“This is for you to wear, devochka. It signifies your place here. You are mine.” He rubs his thumb over the diamond which probably costs more than anything I own. “People will see this on you when you are with me and they will know. You are off-limits.”
“People like who?” I murmur in disbelief, my insides twisting.
“Everyone you come across. You will be attending dinner with me. Put the dress on.”
I realize after a second that he expects me to change in front of him. With the same knotted-up feeling in my stomach, my fingers fumble to unwrap the towel I’ve clung to. It falls away, leaving me once again naked for his appraisal.
A shiver runs through me as I avoid a direct look at him and tug the slinky negligee-like dress over my head. It’s delicate and feminine, though not completely revealing—the fit’s loose enough that it simply alludes to my figure while stopping a couple inches down my thighs.
Roman snaps the collar around my neck himself. His thumb finds my bottom lip as he tilts my head back for another appraisal of me.
“I will have Ivanka come and do your makeup. Very light. Nothing heavy. And your hair. I want it up.”
I feel like I’m stuck in a horrible nightmare I won’t wake up from. I’m tense and uneasy, unable to even think straight. The stiffness in my body and twisty sensation inside makes me acutely aware how this is all so wrong.
Why won’t he just let me go? Why has he done this to me?
“Everyone is to believe you are my pet that I have purchased. Which means no speaking unless I tell you to,” he says. “No leaving my side, and no wandering off. You must obey everything I tell you. Your name is Kat. Only Kat.”
I close my eyes and urge myself to remain calm. If I can fight off the emotion that’s swirling inside me and focus on finding my first means of escape, I can make it through this. I’ll be no one’s pet and I won’t have to obey him and these insane rules.
“There will be other women there,” he explains. “They have been purchased too. Many are still for sale. You are different, devochka. You are mine and mine alone. But no one else can know how I acquired you. If the sovietnik finds out who you are, he will kill you.”
…great. Another death threat. I definitely can’t tell him what happened.
“Are we clear?” he asks.
I merely nod, my expression probably giving me away. My bottom lip’s tucked between my teeth and my brows are drawn close. I can’t even manage eye contact.
“You are still upset,” he observes. “What is it, devochka?”
“Nothing,” I mumble. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“You are different than the women you will see tonight. You will be with me. This is for appearances. This is making sure the sovietnik does not catch onto your true identity. Come.” He grabs my hand without waiting for me to agree and pulls me toward him. “First Ivanka, then the dinner.”
Ivanka huffs out a deep sigh when Roman brings me to her. She’s a woman with harsh and angular features and white-blonde hair that washes out her already pallid complexion. At some point in the past she must’ve been beautiful, but as she nudges me into a chair, I can tell that time has long since passed.
Her fingers are long, her nails sharp like stilettos, making her touch severe and prickly as she dusts light makeup onto my face and then gathers my curls into a knot at the top of my head. She sighs again peering at our reflection in the mirror, as if unsatisfied with the results.
“This is all I could do,” she snaps. She taps my shoulder to signal she wants me out of her chair. “She is not easy. The hair, why is it purple? These curls…”
“Ivanka, don’t be sour,” Roman replies. “She is beautiful. You should be nice. You were her once.”
His biting words seem to cut her down to size. She purses her lips, folding her arms as Roman pulls me away with him. His hand slips around my waist almost intimately, keeping me close by his side.
So close his masculine scent invades my sense of smell.
It disorients me as we walk down a hall that’s dimly lit and trimmed by dark wood and antique brass, calling back to the early 1900s.
“Remember what I told you, devochka,” he says. “Behave yourself. Not all nights will be like this. Some nights will be me and you. But some you will need to go undetected like I have told you or suspicions will come up.”
“Okay…” I trail off, feeling uncharacteristically meek and hopeless.
Not at all like myself.
I’m not sure if it’s the collar secured tightly around my neck or the curious looks that come my way as double doors open and Roman walks me into a huge dining room that’s full of other intimidating men and a few docile women.
…all with the same collars around their neck.
But there’s one man in particular who stands out among the rest. The same squat, old, putrid man who’d pinned me to the wall no less than an hour ago.
Roman’s uncle merely grins at the sight of me, telling me all I need to know.
He meant what he said. If I tell Roman, he’ll hurt me.
And if he’s a man who keeps his promises, he’ll be back for me later tonight.
* ? Ne govori. Prosto bud’ khoroshim. Vot dlya chego ty nuzhen - Don’t talk. Just be good. That’s what you’re for.
* ? Ya skazal, ne razgovarivay. Idite syuda - I said don’t talk. Come here.
* ? Ty ne podchinyayesh’sya, devochka? Ya pridu k tebe - You don’t obey, girl? I’ll come to you.
* ? Proshchay, devochka. Poka my ne vstretimsya snova. Ochen’ skoro - Goodbye, girl. Until we meet again. Very soon.