Chapter 8 – Karik #3
After we arrived at the mansion, I had the maids take her back to her room.
In my study, I sat at my desk, listening to Sergei’s report. He sat across from me at the table, explaining the situation in clear terms.
“According to my intel, the Sokolov bastards have their eyes on the girl because they believe she’s part of your future.”
I raised my brows, confused by that extreme assumption. “My future?”
He nodded. “Word on the street is that her appearance by your side tonight signaled one thing.” A pause. “Strategic alliance.”
Speechless, I reclined in my chair, unable to believe my ears.
“To them, she’s not a random girl,” he added. “She’s someone important to you. And that makes her the perfect leverage.”
I almost laughed at their silly assumptions. These idiots had already concluded without doing their due diligence.
“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day,” I said, rubbing my temples.
“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not.”
I squinted, suspicion perched in my gaze. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated. “You transformed her into a high-class woman overnight. Expensive jewelry and designer clothes. Even I would never have guessed she’s your prisoner because she looked more like a….” His voice trailed off into silence.
My interest was piqued. “More like a what?”
He swallowed hard. “A wife.”
The phrase landed harder than I expected, leaving me short of words. My expression remained neutral despite the myriad of thoughts suddenly tugging at my mind.
The Sokolov bastards believed she was my fiancée, which was why they saw her as leverage. They had no idea who she was or why I’d brought her with me. But according to Sergei, that was because our appearance together had painted a different, misleading picture.
Their interpretation was wrong.
But that didn’t matter because, in their minds, she was important to me. And that alone had already put a giant bullseye on her back. Their silly assumptions had now dragged the girl into something she didn’t understand.
This was on me, if I were being honest. I’d implicated her by bringing her into that hall. In doing so, I’d created a false impression that I was now obligated to maintain.
Things just got a bit more complicated. Even if I was eventually going to let her go, I couldn’t anymore. With the enemy’s eyes on her, the safest place for her was here. With me.
Those animals wouldn’t admit they misinterpreted the situation. They’d still go after her. So if she walked out of here, she’d be walking straight into her grave.
Later on, at about past one in the morning, I stepped out of my bedroom. I wandered the halls like a ghost, just a regular routine check, something I did out of habit.
I headed toward the security station at the end of the corridor, my bare feet soundless against the floor. When I passed her door, I noticed it was slightly ajar.
Agata, always meticulous about everything, must’ve forgotten to shut it on her last check. Her room was dimly lit, a thin line of light from the hallway spilling across the floor inside.
She was asleep on her side, facing the entrance. The red dress was replaced with something simpler, the nightgown she wore on the night of her abduction.
The fabric draped over her body in a way that accentuated her figure. The neckline dipped lower than usual, exposing the fresh skin above her breasts.
My breath caught at the provocative sight that stirred something within me. I should keep walking, but I couldn’t. The sight had me glued.
I stared at her sleeping form from outside, my eyes sweeping over her body. The thin strap of her gown hung off her left shoulder in a rather seductive way. I tried to look away, but then my gaze fell on her alluring thighs, kissed by the hem of her dress.
Her hair spilled over the pillow, the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across her face. I watched her chest rise and fall with quiet breaths as she slept like a baby.
I’d watched her longer than I should’ve. It was time to leave. But just when I was about to walk away, she stirred on the bed, shifting slightly before her eyes opened.
She saw me standing in the doorway, a flicker of fear dancing in her eyes. Her breath hitched as her hands pulled the sheets over her body.
I hated how this whole thing made me look like some creep. A perv. Fuck! I should’ve just left sooner.
She clutched the sheets tightly to her chest, her eyes fixed on me. Her uncertainty about my next move was crystal clear. She probably thought I had bad intentions toward her.
She was wrong.
That look of vulnerability in her eyes thawed something frozen inside me. I might’ve done terrible things in my life, but forcing myself on a woman wasn’t one of them. There were lines I’d never cross. Ever.
To make her feel safe again, I closed the door and walked away. As I wandered the halls, one realization settled with uncomfortable clarity.
This was no longer just containment.
My attention on her had shifted into something far more dangerous. As much as I hated to admit it, the truth remained: I was becoming fixated.