Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
GEORGIA
I don’t see Andrei for the next week, but he’s never far from my thoughts. Memories of his hands roaming my body play on repeat in my mind. How ironic is it that this man I despise also turns me on like no one’s business?
Ironic and disturbing.
Where Andrei is concerned, my body is not in-synch with my head. The pure want I feel when I am near him is unsettling. He oozes danger, ferocity, dominance, and he collects art. Apparently that makes me very, very wet.
What kind of twisted person craves their captor’s touch? It’s just that compared to my experiences with boys, he’s all man. Andrei, with his unforgiving eyes and lush, stern mouth, knew exactly how to coax maximum pleasure from my body.
And then he rejected me. Gah! I let myself get carried away in the moment, but I won’t make that same mistake again. Ever.
Before I double over in shame, Natalia’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. She’s currently leading me down the byzantium hallways in the manor's basement for my next training session.
“How do you think your training is going so far?” she asks, while still maintaining her efficient gait.
“Fine, I guess.” I’ve been learning Krav Maga, an Israeli self-defense and fighting system, which is surprisingly fun and a great workout. The computer hacking stuff is challenging, but pretty cool. What hasn’t been going quite as smoothly is the firearm lessons.
Natalia makes a noise that sounds like a harrumph before turning to face me. “And the firearms training?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. Every day, my training starts at the gun range where I refuse to hold a pistol because those killing machines terrify me.
Instead, I watch as Boris, my trainer, shows me the basics of how to hold a gun and make it safe.
He insisted that I have to at least pick up the gun in my next session.
Despite his intimidating frown, I just smile vaguely at him.
Me and guns don’t mix, and I have no intention of learning how to use one.
“Boris has been showing me what I need to know,” I say defensively. “I think that’s a good start.”
“If you don’t listen to Boris, we’ll have to replace him with someone that you will listen to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Natalia just shakes her head and continues walking down the long hallway.
I think about asking her who Kira is to the brothers, but she’s unlikely to tell me.
Andrei also warned me never to mention her to anyone, and never to reveal the true reason for my training.
I suspect Natalia knows, but I won’t push it.
Nothing matters other than getting out of here and rescuing Dad.
Somehow. I still don’t have much of a plan.
As we round a corner, I hear grunts and heavy breathing, followed by rough male voices.
“What is that?” I ask, as unease drips down my spine. What if we’re going to the dungeons? I don’t know for a fact that they have a dungeon in this home, but I assume every Bratva compound has one. Oleg did.
Natalia stops in front of an open door on our right and waves me close. I peek around the door to find a fully furnished gym complete with punching bags, speed balls, and a boxing ring in the center of the room.
Shirtless, sweaty and all male, Andrei spars in the ring with Yulian.
“You call that a jab?” Andrei taunts Yulian, who grunts in response and attempts another hit. His square jaw is tight, eyes focused as Andrei deftly moves out of reach.
Fuck me.
My mouth goes dry and my heart rate accelerates to a full on gallop as I watch sweat drip down his muscular form.
Intricate tattoos grace his back and chest, continuing down each arm, though I can still make out the corded veins beneath his skin.
Andrei is fit, that much is obvious through clothes, but with his shirt off he’s smoking hot.
Lean, taut muscle in all the right places, a smattering of hair on his chest, and that little V that leads down to there.
I look back up to find Andrei’s eyes on me. He winks and gives me a cocky grin that suggests he knows exactly what I was thinking a moment ago. This man needs no more ego-stroking, so I offer him a bored look instead, but I doubt he’s fooled by my suddenly cool demeanor.
“Just to be clear, that’s not part of my training, right?” My voice is a hoarse croak.
Natalia snorts. “Not unless you want it to be.”
“Definitely not,” I gulp. Although I certainly don’t mind the view, I have no desire to be that close to Andrei while he’s sweaty and leaking hot male pheromones, and likely itching to discipline me for any misstep on my part.
Why that turns me on is something I am going to have to further examine in therapy.
A smile plays around Natalia’s mouth. “Ready to move on?”
“To where?” I shake my head, trying to clear my head.
She motions for me to follow her as she continues walking past several more nondescript doors. The basement is like a maze. I can imagine getting lost down here. Natalia stops in front of the very last door at the end of the hallway.
“Are you ready to meet your acting coach? He’s very French and very eccentric,” she says with no small amount of sarcasm.
Monsieur Coset is a small-boned French man dressed all in black, with drama oozing out of his pores. He introduces himself to me, shaking my hand with a simple “enchanté,” and then waves off Natalia. She just rolls her eyes and shows herself out.
“No offense, but what’s the deal with these acting lessons?” I ask.
He definitely looks offended. “Acting is key to the success of your mission, my dear. You’ll need to be observant, you’ll need to immerse yourself in a persona, and think quickly in a pinch. I’m here to teach you how to do all of that.”
“Great,” I mumble. I’ll take this over firearms lessons any day.
Monsieur Coset explains he teaches the Stanislavski System for acting, developed by a famous Russian actor and director, Constantin Stanislavski. It’s sort of like method acting, where the actor—me in this case—uses their emotional memory and experience to immerse themselves in a role.
Well, good luck to my French friend here, because no experience in my life has prepared me to seduce an ugly toad like Oleg, extract secret information from him and then drug him before he demands I get naked. The more that I think about it, the crazier this all sounds.
Sitting in the middle of a bare bones room, he asks me to recall the last time I felt powerful and confident, in a new or difficult circumstance.
“How is this relevant?” I ask, drawing a blank.
“You need to access that feeling,” he says in heavily accented English. “Intelligence gathering is all about confidence. Nerves betray ulterior motives.”
Is this man serious? I was always nervous around Oleg Antonov and no amount of training can change that.
Noticing my reluctance, Monsieur Coset places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Close your eyes, Georgia. Get comfortable. We’re going to try a different tack.”
After he leads me through a series of breathing and relaxation exercises, I feel more calm and grounded, so when Monsieur Coset asks me again to conjure the feelings of power and confidence, a vision of Andrei kissing me outside of my room springs to mind, the delicious friction of his hand rubbing my pussy over my dress.
What the… ?
This is not the image I expected, yet, as I hold on to the vision for a moment longer, I’m suffused with the feeling of… rightness. Even though I was not the one in charge, there was a certain power in driving a man like Andrei crazy. Crazy enough to do something he clearly didn’t mean to do.
“Are you picturing the experience?” he asks.
“Yep,” I rasp, heat flooding my face.
“Bravo, Georgia. Now hold on to that feeling while you envisage a few scenarios that you may experience when infiltrating the enemy.”
Infiltrating? Damn, he makes it sound so impressive.
He takes me through a series of exercises—acting out intimidating scenarios I may find myself in when I am back in the Antonov household. Monsieur Coset plays Oleg, and while he’s no physical match for the brute, he does a good job of embodying his general boorishness.
None of the scenarios we act out are sexual, but they are intimidating—like being questioned about what I saw during the Kozlov attack on Oleg’s home.
Every time my voice shakes, or my breathing speeds up, I conjure up the image of Andrei and me in the hallway. He may have been the one exercising control, but in that moment, I knew he was captive to me. As I replay the scenario, my nerves transform into something that feels like power.
Monsieur Coset must be happy with my efforts because he gives me a little round of applause, and an air kiss on each cheek before he sends me on my way with some exercises to practice on my own. I’ve never had an interest in acting before, but today might have actually inspired something new.