Chapter 7 – Celine
When I said I wasn’t afraid of him, I was lying. I was terrified. I knew that vase must have cost a fortune, and I’d probably get in trouble for being so clumsy around it. I was so scared I couldn’t even imagine what he was going to do to me.
However, I couldn’t bring myself to show any sign of fear. I didn’t want him to think that I was someone he could easily intimidate, someone who’d cower at his feet when he spoke. He was only a man. Not a god.
Despite all of this, it was still so hard to stand in his presence without being afraid for my life. This man had the power to snuff the life out of me without breaking a sweat. He could end me with just a wave of his hand, and no one would ever find my body.
That’s how powerful he was.
That’s the kind of man I was messing with.
It wasn’t a good idea; hell, it was stupid.
But it was the only defense mechanism I could think of. I didn’t want to be seen as weak and fragile, so I decided it was best to mask my fears. Even though I didn’t know much about the Mafia, I knew this for sure: They admired strength and audacity.
Maybe that was even what was keeping me alive. Maybe he found my stubbornness quite entertaining, and that’s why he hadn’t ordered my execution yet. I just needed to understand how this worked: when to realize I was doing too much and where to draw the line.
There’s audacity, and there’s disrespect. The latter could land me in so much trouble if I didn’t tread carefully.
Until now, his statement still lingered on the fringes of my mind. “There’s a fine line between foolishness and bravery.” That was a warning, a reminder that there were lines I shouldn’t cross.
His lieutenant, the one called Konstantin, obviously didn’t like me. I’d caught him glaring at me more times than I could count. The hate in his eyes wasn’t at all subtle. He loathed me and didn’t bother hiding it.
Well, the hate was mutual, especially since he had been the dark figure tailing me on the day I was kidnapped. He was the one who led the operation, the one chasing me down the alley that fateful evening.
Whenever he was ordered to fetch me, he was always rude and would clutch my arm tightly. He once told me that he’d end me himself the moment the boss gave the order.
I wasn’t exactly sure what his beef with me was—because last time I checked, it wasn’t his ledger that I read through. It was his boss’s. So why the big fuss? Why was he so keen on punishing me when the boss didn’t even seem to be moving in that direction?
If it were up to this Konstantin man, I’d be dead already. Or still rotting in the stinky cell down in the basement. He hated how I was being treated more like a princess than a prisoner.
I was well fed, well clothed, and slept in a really comfortable room—maybe one even bigger than his. In his mind, he must believe that I was being pampered. Who knows? Maybe he’d even pitched the idea of getting rid of me once and for all.
Although Konstantin and I obviously didn’t like each other, I couldn’t help agreeing with him on some things.
For starters, why was this ruthless monster being lenient with me? Why wasn’t I dead already? Why did he keep me fed and comfortable?
Not that I was complaining or anything—I just wanted to understand what the hell was going on here. He read my file and knew that I wasn’t a threat, so why not let me go?
What was my purpose in this house? Why was I here?
Maybe the reason I was still breathing was because he knew I was just a curious student who got hold of the wrong book. But that didn’t explain why he was still keeping me.
What was his plan for me?
These questions and many more overlapped in my mind, yet I had no answer to any of them.
***
Lightning streaked the clouds outside, accompanied by rolls of thunder that scared the living daylight out of me.
It was late in the evening, and I was having dinner with my captor at the same table. I usually ate alone in my room or sometimes in the kitchen, but tonight he asked one of the maids to send for me.
I couldn’t understand why and almost turned down the invitation. But the lady told me that I didn’t have a choice, that it was an order. Not an invitation. Let alone one I could reject.
So there I was, sitting quietly on one end of the table that stretched along the length of the dining room. The warm glow of the hanging chandelier draped over the table, silverware glistening under its soft light.
The room was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of grilled chicken and roasted garlic. Occasionally, the clinking of cutlery drifted through the air as he ate. Although neither of us had spoken a word to each other, we both could feel the tension in the room.
I hated it.
The rain outside was getting heavier by the minute, and the thunderclaps were getting louder. Scarier. Whenever I caught a lightning flash, I’d brace myself for the thunder. That heart-wrenching sound that always scared me half to death.
With my chin under my palm, I stared absently at my plate as I poked my vegetables with a fork.
“You’ve barely touched your food,” he said, his voice calm as always.
“I’m not hungry,” I answered without raising my head.
“Did you already have dinner?”
My brows furrowed. “No.”
“Then why aren’t you eating?”
I lifted my head and met his gaze. “Because I’m not hungry.”
Thunderclap!
I flinched, shoulders jerking reflexively.
He stared at me in silence, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “The thunder’s just a noise.” He reached for the half-empty glass of wine beside his plate. “It’s the lightning you should be worried about.”
I said nothing.
He sipped from his glass, exuding his usual air of confidence and majesty. “Eat.”
My face twisted into a frown at the condescension in his tone. “Is that an order?”
He hesitated. “What if it is?”
I paused, seething in silence, upset by the authority he had over me. “You may have me locked up in your mansion. But you don’t get to order me around. I’m not one of your maids.”
“No, you’re not.” His expression darkened by a whisper. “It appears you’ve forgotten what you actually are.”
How could his voice be so calm, yet dangerously intimidating?
Another roll of thunder boomed outside, the loudest I’d heard all evening. An audible yelp escaped my lips, and the whole mansion was plunged into complete darkness.
My heart started pounding in my chest as more lightning and thunder tore across the dark skies outside. The room was so dark I couldn’t see a thing. I had no clue why, but the table was shaking, and so was the crystal chandelier hanging above.
I closed my eyes, struggling to catch my breath with my fingers locked around the edge of the table. It was as though I was having a panic attack, and my heart was about to explode out of my chest.
My palm darted up to my bosom, my breathing coming in ragged gasps.
That’s when I felt it: a hand on my left shoulder. The touch was gentle and surprisingly comforting—so comforting, in fact, that with each passing second, my breathing steadied.
It was him. Even though I couldn’t see him, the intoxicating scent of his cologne gave him away. This was the first time his skin had come into contact with mine. And to my own shock, I wasn’t repulsed by it. Not even the slightest.
When his fingers dug into my flesh in a massaging motion, a quiet moan fell from my lips. His touch wasn’t just comforting, it was also relaxing. For a moment, I was lost in a strange feeling that overwhelmed me.
As he massaged my shoulders in the dark, I felt my body yielding to his touch in ways I wasn’t ready for. My nipples hardened, and my thighs brushed against each other in an attempt to douse the sensation between my legs.
Suddenly, he stopped.
I got a grip of myself and blinked back to reality. A few seconds later, the power came back on, forcing my eyes to squint at the chandelier’s warm glow.
After I adjusted to the light, I glanced behind me but saw no one. However, when I looked across the table, I found him sitting in his chair like he’d never left.
His expression stayed the same—neutral—his cold blue eyes fixed on me. This man was sitting so calmly, as if it wasn’t his hands I felt on my shoulders just seconds ago.
I couldn’t even bring myself to ask what had happened when the power went out. Because at this point, I was starting to question whether it had actually happened.
That gesture wasn’t something that a man like him would do. Why would he try to calm me down? What did he stand to gain by that?
Did that mean that it was all in my head? Did I imagine his hands as a coping mechanism to get me through the panic attack?
Nothing made sense to me at all.
Even when I searched his eyes for answers, I found none. One thing I knew for sure was that I liked the feeling. Real or not, I liked his hands on me. It was a shameful thing to admit, but it was the truth.
The fleeting darkness blurred the line between captor and captive. In doing so, it awakened something in me—something primal. Something dangerous. As we stared across the table, I realized I was no longer sure what I feared more: the man himself or this strange feeling he’d ignited within me.