Chapter Seven
Elena
Leonid’s mouth leaves mine too abruptly, and for a second, I think I’ve done something wrong.
But when I open my eyes and see the look in his eyes, the only regret I have is that I let him kiss me. My heart thunders as the realization of what we just did fully hits me.
This man kidnapped me. He’s dangerous. I should hate him, but I let him kiss me…and I kissed him back.
What’s worse is that I enjoyed every moment of his lips on mine, even the way his mouth consumed me and made my body submit to him even when my mind knew that’s the last thing I should do.
My cheeks flush when I feel the wetness between my legs. Somehow, my core is throbbing like it wants release from my body. It was just a kiss, yet every fiber of my being is awakened and yearning for this man.
This dangerous man who I should hate.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his piercing eyes boring into mine. For the first time, his expression is something other than a blank mask. There’s genuine concern on his face.
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out, so I wrap my arms around myself and quickly tear my gaze away from him. I’m too ashamed to face him, and with the way I’ve lost absolute control over my body, I’d be even more embarrassed if I lost it and begged him to kiss me again.
Damn, Elena. Get a grip on yourself.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You…” My voice trails off. I don’t think it’d be wise to put a name to what just happened. I don’t want him to think I enjoyed it or that it’s acceptable for him to kiss me whenever he wants. “You forced yourself on me, you pig.”
“Pig?” He closes the distance between us and presses his body against mine. The heat rolling off him seeps into my skin. “If you hated the kiss that much, why did you kiss me back?”
“I didn’t.” A weak retort, but I expect it’ll be enough to communicate the message I’m trying to get across. “Don’t ever do that again, or I’ll kill you.”
One of his brows lifts, and an arrogant yet dangerous smile plays on his lips. “I never knew being a hypocrite was your love language.”
“I never knew kissing vulnerable women was yours,” I shoot back, ignoring the voice in the back of my head that reminds me I wanted that kiss more than I’ve wanted anything in a while.
Even now, my lips ache to feel his again.
Yeah, I definitely have Stockholm syndrome.
An emotion I can’t explain flashes in his eyes for only a moment, and then it’s gone.
It looked something like remorse, but I dismiss that idea, since I doubt a man like Leonid is capable of that.
As much as I hate this man—or should hate him—I can already feel my heart rip into pieces at the thought that he regrets kissing me.
He ignores my blatant accusation and drags a hand through his hair.
“I’ll have the chef make you something to eat.
” His voice is surprisingly soft, which is unusual.
Normally, he’s gruff, cold, or close to growling with rage when he talks to me.
And Leonid has never been concerned about me eating.
It’s the first time he’s even involved himself in feeding me since he brought me here.
I’m not sure how to feel about this new development.
Whatever armors he’s shielded himself with are cracking, and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.
“I’m not hungry.” My voice is barely audible. I can still feel the aftershocks of his kiss quaking in my bones.
My stomach growls, and I bite my lip. Shit.
“Little liar,” Leonid says in a tone that’s calmer than the sea crashing against the shore on a warm evening. “The chef will get you something.”
He leaves the room while I sink onto the edge of the bed, replaying our kiss in my mind. My finger traces my swollen lips. My tongue darts out instinctively, and I hate that I still taste the faint mix of whiskey and cigar smoke he left behind.
I despise myself for craving more of it.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I straighten up when I hear the sound of keys clanking in the metal door.
The door creaks open. I expect to see the middle-aged man who’s been delivering my food for the past couple of days, but instead a young woman steps into the room, holding a tray.
She looks like she’s around my age, with clear, pale blue eyes that look like the sky on a sunny day. She’s beautiful, even with her eyes wide in shock, as if she wasn’t expecting to see me here.
After a moment, she seems to realize she’s gaping at me, because she quickly closes her mouth and smiles. “Hi.”
I’m not sure if I should reply, but I force a greeting out anyway. “Hi.”
Her eyes gleam with unadulterated happiness. She closes the door behind her, locks it from inside, and walks toward me. When she reaches me, she places the tray of pasta and meatballs on the nightstand, then sits on the mattress next to me.
“I’m…Tatiana,” she says, dragging the words out as if she shouldn’t be saying them. She scrutinizes me through narrowed eyes when I don’t respond. “Who are you?”
“Elena.” I let my gaze sweep over her face, noting how she looks nothing like Leonid. Her eyes are a different color from his, and her chestnut brown hair is a contrast to his raven black.
Unlike Leonid, whose very presence feels sharp enough to cut, Tatiana looks gentle in a way that immediately puts me on edge. She radiates an almost disarming softness.
I wonder what role she played in my kidnapping…and more importantly, who she is to Leonid.
Jealousy creeps into my chest. Could she be his wife or girlfriend? But I haven’t seen a ring on his finger, and what girlfriend would be fine with her man holding another woman hostage and kissing her?
She nods toward the tray. “I brought your meal.” She leans in and whispers, “I saw Petrov heading to this room. I intercepted him and threatened to make up a lie about him if he didn’t let me see what was inside.”
“Oh.” I honestly don’t know what to do with that information, but I’m curious as to why she went through the trouble. “He fell for that?”
Her smile feels like a breath of fresh air after dealing with stone-faced men for days. “Petrov knows my brother will kill him without a question if I accuse him of even looking at me funny.”
“Brother?”
She bobs her head proudly. “Leonid. Haven’t you met him?”
“I have.” A strange wave of relief crashes into me that she’s Leonid’s sister, not his lover. “How do you think I got into this basement?”
She stops smiling and purses her lips. “I’m so sorry about all of this. My brother can be a dickhead sometimes, especially when he’s paranoid about business. But I promise he doesn’t harm women…or children.”
I let out a short laugh that holds no humor. “Well, the fact that I’ve been locked up here for days proves otherwise.”
Tatiana sighs, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater. “Okay.” She throws her hands up. “In my defense, he usually kidnaps men.”
I stare at her. “Do you think that’s normal?”
She grimaces, her eyes glinting with a mix of innocence and amusement. “I don’t know. That sounded less alarming in my head. Did it make you feel better?”
I shake my head. “No. Not at all. It’s deeply concerning.”
She scratches her head. “Ouch. Looks like I have to do better at comforting people. By the way, I wasn’t actually going to accuse Petrov of anything, but the old man’s a scaredy-cat, so I took advantage.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
Tatiana joins in on the laughter and points at me as if she just won a prize. “There. That’s better. You looked like you were planning my murder two seconds ago.”
I stop laughing, but I’m still smiling. Tatiana’s nothing like her brother. She knows how to light up the room. She’s still part of whatever criminal enterprise is going on here, so I should be wary of her, but oddly, I feel relaxed with her here.
It’s better than being alone. If I’d met her on my first day, I wouldn’t have been so afraid. She’s like a breath of fresh air in all this chaos, despite being Leonid’s sister.
“You brought me pasta in a locked basement,” I mutter. “You surely weren’t expecting me to welcome you with open arms.”
“You’re right, I wasn’t,” she says with a soft chuckle. “Your pasta is going to get cold, by the way.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Is it poisoned?”
Her chuckle grows louder. “Don’t worry, poisoning people isn’t my thing. Be careful, though—I might have you wrapped around my finger in no time with my charm.”
A laugh rips from my throat. We’ve only been speaking for a couple of minutes, but I think I like her already. I reach for the tray of pasta and take a bite of one of the meatballs on top. It’s well-spiced and so soft it melts in my mouth.
“How come you’re so different from your brother?”
Tatiana exhales loudly. “Well, I guess life threw lemons at both of us and we made lemonade out of them in our own ways.” She pauses for a moment, as if she’s contemplating whether it’s a good choice to tell me about Leonid or not.
“I don’t know anything beyond the basic details about the bratva because my brother keeps me shielded from most of it, but I’ll tell you this for sure—he’s not some heartless monster. ”
I snort, mostly because I’m insanely attracted to him whether he’s a monster or a man, and I hate it.
I have a feeling Tatiana would judge me for it, too.
He’s her brother, so it makes sense that she sees him through rose-colored glasses, but she’d think I was out of my mind if I told her I have a thing for my captor.
So I keep that detail to myself.
“Why do you say so?”
Her brow cocks, and for the first time, I see a glimpse of resemblance between them. They both have the same perfectly arched dark brows.
“My brother never hurts women or children. The fact that you’re still alive is proof that he wouldn’t hurt a person unless they’re a danger to him, and the only reason he hasn’t roughened you up to get answers is because you’re a woman.”
I balance the plate of pasta on my lap and rest my back against the headboard, curiosity piqued. “Is that how things are done in the…the bratva?”