Chapter 8 —Demyon
The front door opened, and Ilya walked in with my little prisoner at his side. His shoes scuffed against the polished marble floor as he approached my desk, his usual unreadable expression in place.
“Boss.” He stopped in front of me, nodding slightly toward the girl.
She stood a few paces behind him, her chestnut brown hair draped over her left shoulder. Her stormy blues wandered my study as if drinking in the interior while still avoiding my gaze.
I leaned back in my chair, watching her closely and observing every detail my eyes could catch. She was wearing a T-shirt with the top three buttons undone. As small and insignificant as that gesture was, it offered a mesmerizing glimpse of her gentle swells.
Her curves were perky—a bit saggy, but perky—and her peeks were poking from behind her shirt. The sight sparked something primal within me, leaving me distracted and nearly confused.
As if she caught my gaze, she adjusted her shirt: a smooth, subtle move that concealed her cleavage. Her head was slightly lowered, her fingers toying with each other at her knees. Her weight shifted by a notch, hinting at her discomfort, and her eyes still avoided mine.
“Leave us,” I said without looking at Ilya.
He gave a single nod and walked out of the study, closing the door behind him.
For a moment after he left, the room fell silent—the kind that made her feel even more awkward than she already did. She absently tugged at her sleeves and tapped her feet against the floor, as if summoning the courage to withstand my presence.
“Who are you?” I asked her, my voice low and even.
She hesitated, her throat bobbling as she swallowed hard. “I’m the girl you’re keeping prisoner and refusing to let go of.”
My brows arched at her response, and to my shock, she looked me right in the fuckin’ eyes when she said it. Impressive. I watched her fear slowly transform into something slightly darker—anger, maybe, just a hint of it.
“You have a sharp tongue. I see.”
“You asked a question, and I answered,” she said, her voice calm and steady, her eyes still pinned on me.
My lips curled into a faint smirk. I was intrigued by this newfound boldness. Things were getting more interesting now that she was shedding the mask of helplessness. At least she wasn’t as boring as I’d thought.
“What were you doing at the warehouse two nights ago?” I asked, holding her gaze.
She paused, then said, “Would you believe me if I told you I was only there to satisfy my curiosity?”
“What curiosity?”
Her eyes flicked away from mine for a second before returning to my face. “The coded messages. I just wanted to know if I got them right.”
The way she spoke to me without fear thawed something frozen inside me. Especially because it seemed like the girl speaking with me was a completely different person from the scared little kitty cat that walked in with Ilya.
“And did you…get them right?” The slight pause came when I reached for the brandy bottle on my table and popped it open.
“I was kidnapped by a monster and trapped in a room for forty-eight hours,” she replied. “So, yeah. I think I got them right.”
The fire in her soul and the defiance in her eyes ignited a strange flame within me. It pulled me in like steel to a magnet. I was wrong to see her as a helpless little girl because she’d just proven to be the exact opposite.
I liked it.
Most people in her situation—male or female—found it difficult to hold a decent conversation with me. They often trembled in my presence, and some even forgot how to breathe.
Not this one. She didn’t just speak; she also held my gaze in a way no one had in a really long time. Although she’d deceived me at first, she was now starting to reveal her true nature. Fearless.
I poured myself a glass of brandy, took a sip, and reclined in my chair.
“I’ve got questions of my own,” she said, stepping closer, her expression flat and unreadable.
My brows rose at her audacity.
She didn’t even let me grant her permission to speak before asking, “It was you, wasn’t it? You stole the book from my dorm.”
I lifted the glass to my lips. “I did.”
She let out a scoff of disbelief. “That’s breaking and entering.”
“Technically, I didn’t break anything.”
She shook her head. “What do you want with me?” Her arms were folded across her chest. “You’ve had the chance to kill me—twice. Yet you haven’t. Why?”
“Are you so eager to meet your maker?” I asked. “I can arrange for that quicker than you can blink.” I withdrew a pistol from my drawer and gently set it on my table.
Her eyes flicked to the firearm, and for a second there, I saw it in her gaze: fear.
“Why am I here?” she demanded, her voice low but laced with venom. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not stupid enough to go to the cops.”
“Oh, I have noticed,” came my response. “And that’s why you’re here.”
Her eyes squinted. “I don’t understand.”
“Allow me to spell it out for you,” I said bluntly. “I enjoy your fiery spirit. It’s entertaining.”
“Entertaining?” Her brows furrowed, accentuating the scowl on her face. “Do I look like a circus clown to you?”
Her fury was so amusing that it broadened my smirk.
“I shouldn’t have gone to the warehouse. I agree; I messed up,” she continued, demonstrating with her hands. “But that’s not even enough to lock me up in your mansion. I’m a human being, for Christ’s sake. You can’t keep me locked up in a gilded cage.”
Quietly, I rose to my feet, adjusted the black tie around my neck, and walked around my desk. Her breath hitched as she watched me approach her with deliberate slowness.
“Instead of running your mouth, you should be thanking me,” I said, my voice calm and composed. “How long do you think you’ll last in the outside world if I let you go?”
She locked her jaw. “I don’t understand.”
“You intercepted a message that wasn’t meant for you.
You know things you shouldn’t. And now, that knowledge has put a giant bullseye on your back,” I explained, my height towering over her.
“This ‘gilded cage’ is the only reason you’re still alive.
Step out of my protection, and you’ll be dead in less than a minute. ”
Again, I saw fear flash across her features as she glared at me. From what I gathered, a part of her believed this was true; the other part didn’t.
“You’re bluffing,” she said.
“Am I?”
“I think you are,” she replied, looking up at me. “You’re the only one who knows I know about the book and its messages. So who could you possibly be ‘protecting’ me from?”
My lips curled into a small, mischievous grin. “You naive little thing.” I brushed the back of my fingers against her cheek. “You’re dealing with the Mafia. Let that sink in for a minute.”
She bit the inside of her mouth, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths as if affected by my closeness. I expected her to pull away when I reached out to touch her skin. But she didn’t. Instead, she just locked eyes with me; if she had a gun right now, she’d pull the trigger on me.
“How long do you plan on keeping me locked up for?” she questioned.
“As long as it takes.” I ran my fingers through her soft brown curls.
Her face twisted into a deeper frown.
I stepped away from her and returned to my desk.
“You might as well just kill me now because I can’t survive being locked away in captivity,” she said after me.
I stopped in my tracks, thought for a second, then turned around to face her. My lips curled into a sly, self-satisfied grin as I stared at her, considering my next move. Since she was desperate to leave this place, I knew exactly where to take her.