Chapter 6 - Katerina #2
Another few steps, and I can see through the wide-open doors facing out into the garden.
Inside, Yulian is working, shirtless, bent over a long strip of raw wood, hand planing the edges smooth.
I watch as he pauses, grabs a hammer, knocks out an old nail, then picks up the planer again and carries on.
He’s lost in his own world, his face relaxed, his muscles taunt and glossed with sweat against his tanned skin.
He hasn’t seen me. And I’m struggling to look away.
I watch for ages as he carefully works along the wood. After he’s planned it, he takes a piece of sandpaper and gently brushes his hand up and down the perfectly curved edge. He pauses, brushing his fingers over it to see how smooth it is, then carries on.
So he did make everything himself. I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen someone with skill like that. He’s actually an artist. It’s incredible. I’m completely shocked.
When he’s done with the shelf, he picks it up, a heavy chunk of wood that makes his arm and chest muscles ripple. I bite my lower lip, swallowing hard.
He carries it over to the side of his workshop and props it against the wall.
I’m so mesmerized that I don’t realize he’s no longer focused enough not to see me.
When he turns back to his workbench, his eyes snap right onto me, standing there like a perv, my eyes lingering on his glistening muscles.
“Katerina, are you enjoying the show?” he muses.
Immediately, agitation floods me. Agitation because I got caught. And agitation because I’m so turned on, it’s making me blush.
My stupid hormones tip the scale on my rationale, and suddenly I’m storming into his workshop in a rage.
“Listen here, asshole. You keep making these lame little remarks. Stupid comments. Jokes. As though this whole situation is a joke to you. You kidnapped me, and I want to go home. There is nothing funny about this. I. Want. To. Go. Home. Why am I here, Yulian? What is your plan with me? Are you going to ask for ransom? Are you going to use me to negotiate something with my brother? Can you just hurry up with whatever twisted plan you have up your sleeve so I can get the hell out of here?” I blurt out a long string of questions, heated and fierce.
He cocks his head to the side, listening calmly, a crooked smile on his lips.
“You done?” he asks when I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him.
“No, I’m not done. I’m not done until you let me go!”
“Well, I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he shrugs casually.
“When, then? What are you going to do to me?”
“What do you want me to do to you, Katerina?” he muses, smiling wickedly.
“Stop deflecting. Answer me.”
“Stop denying what your body wants and let yourself enjoy something for once.”
“For once? I enjoy plenty of things, thank you very much. What I don’t enjoy is being locked away in this house. I’m going crazy with boredom. You suck as a host. There isn’t even a book to read. No one to talk to. How do you expect me to keep my sanity!”
My voice is getting higher-pitched the angrier I get. I’ve been holding back, and now it’s flooding from me in an emotional mess.
“Sheesh, okay, I hear you. I tell you what. We can make a deal.” His eyes trace over me. I don’t know if he’s playing me or not.
“What kind of deal?” I ask, narrowing my gaze at him, trying to ignore how ruggedly sexy he looks.
“I’ll let you go out and about wherever you want, whenever you want. A mall, whatever—with guards, of course,” he pauses, being dramatic for no reason, annoying me all over again.
“If…?” I huff.
“If you stop trying to escape and you live with me voluntarily.”
“What? That’s stupid. You want me to choose to live here? Basically, you want me to be a willing kidnapping victim?”
What is his game? What does he really get out of this? I don’t understand.
“Yes, pretty much. Look, you can accept it or not. It’s up to you. I’m not the one going crazy with boredom. I have plenty to keep me entertained,” he gestures over his workshop.
“Fine,” I huff shortly. “I agree to your terms. But I want a car. The guards can follow me in a different one.”
He cocks his head to the side. “A negotiation. I like it.”
“Okay, but do you agree to it?”
“Yes, I will get you a car. Anything in particular?”
“You don’t have to buy me a car—um, that’s not what I was saying—” I stammer, shocked that he was so willing.
“I can picture you in a little Jeep. Maybe a Range Rover. Something with funk and attitude.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “I can just drive whatever car you have here.”
“Pink. It needs to be pink,” he nods thoughtfully, ignoring my protests. “I’ll line that up for you today. You’ll have your car by tomorrow.”
I narrow my eyes, scrunching my nose in confusion. Is he really going to buy me a whole custom car for no real reason?
I don’t understand this man at all.
He returns to his work with a smile on his face. He can see he got the better of me in this situation. My confusion is written all over my face.
I turn away, half smiling, half frowning, and head back into the house.
It’s okay. Whatever his real plan is, I have a plan of my own. With more freedom, I’ll be able to move about more easily. That means I can use this time to gather information about the Andreev family. Whenever I do get back home, I won’t go empty-handed.