Chapter Six
Liza’s POV
I had nothing in mind when I woke up. It was quiet, and the morning was young.
Roman wasn't in bed, and I stretched out, releasing a stressed yawn.
It was only after I walked out of bed that I noticed the three steamer trunks lined up by the window.
Though they looked tempting, I didn't want to believe that something magnificent had happened.
God only knows what lay in there, yet the more I stared at it, the more curious I was to open the trunks and unravel whatever mysterious thing was buried inside.
I walked towards the trunk and opened it, and to my surprise, I saw all my belongings.
My clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry were all wrapped up in one big box.
I didn't expect this to happen so soon. I mean, I thought it would take forever for Roman to get all my clothes and accessories from Russia, but for it to take only a span of the night was quite impressive.
This was the happiest that I'd been since I was brought to Manhattan, and it shocked me that Roman kept his promise.
I took everything out, one by one, and he brought everything.
Everything apart from my phone. The joy that overwhelmed me disappeared in an instant, and my head spun with thoughts.
No one needed to tell me this was Roman's way of letting me know that I was going to be controlled by him, the control freak that he is.
But because he did keep to his word about bringing my things from Russia, I was still glad.
I stepped into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and had a long, warm bath.
My hands slid past all my clothes until I saw the emerald green gown at the bottom.
Wearing this would definitely match my emerald necklace, I thought.
So I got dressed and hurried outside the bedroom, jewelry dangling from my hands to my neck.
I needed an early morning coffee to start my day, and when I entered the kitchen, I saw Roman sitting at the marble island.
I tried to process what to say to him. Should I thank him for the clothes or for keeping to his word?
Or should I remind him that he needed to bring me my phone?
I felt separated from my friends, and it weighed on me.
So with every step, I carefully considered what I needed to say to him.
A stack of papers was by his left side. He turned, looked at me, and rubbed his eyes with his fingers before returning his gaze to the papers.
“You're up. Morning,” he said. I didn't reply because I felt his words were rhetorical.
The papers weren't any ordinary pile of paperwork, but financial statements.
He pushed a folder across the counter, and all I did was observe how sore his eyes looked as though he hadn't had much sleep. His eye bags were nearly sagging, yet I remained silent while I turned to check what was inside. Hopefully, I find my phone, I said to myself, fantasizing about many things I'd do for a start. Instead, I saw a schedule for the next forty-eight hours, which was mainly a joint press appearance at the Manhattan hospital, funded by the Markov foundation, a dinner with the state senators, and a gala which was meant to celebrate Roman’s scholarship program. It all looked like hard work that I didn’t want to buy into. Yet, he turned to look at me and said,
“Your presence will make it look like our families are consolidating.”
What did he mean? I didn't sign up for this, yet I felt like I did, and the tone at which he spoke to me made me release a light laugh before I replied,
“Let me get this straight. First, you abduct me, and now you want me smiling for your cameras.”
“Liza, you're my leverage. Don't mistake this for employment, okay?”
I leaned forward, just the right distance, and I felt the neckline of my dress dip. “Then stop pretending like it's philanthropy, Roman.”
His eyes struck mine, and I tried to read his reaction.
The veins that popped out of his head could either be stress or rage, yet I knew that there were hundreds of things that crossed Roman's mind.
His silence felt a little bit intimidating, but I was certain that my response got to him.
His body seemed to swell with rage, yet his eyes flicked open with desire.
I could tell that Roman wanted something.
The way he looked at my lips right before he stared back into my eyes was unusual, and I enjoyed that my words were strong enough to get to him.
My lips curled in a calm smile. I took a step closer to him. His gaze still penetrated through me. Then I heard the sound of distant footsteps. As if the day couldn't get any more surprising, Isabella and Emilia walked in, and the very sight of them brought butterflies to my belly.
***********
I didn't wait for them to come to me; I walked all the way to them. We had a group hug. It felt warm and welcoming. Emilia had that scent of hers, and Isabella kept her face nonchalant.
“I've missed you,” Emilia's words made me smile because I knew she meant it. Isabella wasn't fazed by this. I knew she missed me, too, but she was too proud to say it.
“Come, this way, please,” I said, leading them towards the drawing room.
They sat on the soft foam of the sofa, and the level of concern that clouded their faces alerted me. I knew there were questions that were going to be asked, and I had no intention of hiding them. If there was anyone I could tell anything to, it was my girls.
“What the hell happened to you, Liza? What's all the news we've been hearing these days?” Isabella shot at me.
“So, would you like to know the whole thing, or would you rather have a nice summary?” I asked.
“We're here for a while, so I'm sure we won't mind knowing the whole thing,” Emilia replied. I stood and walked across the room.
“Oh my goodness…” I said. “Where the hell do I start?”
“Uh…the beginning works fine with me,” Isabella uttered in retort.
I stood up from the sofa, sighed, walked to and from the chair at an even pace, before I began to narrate all that had happened.
I spoke of the kidnapping, the scandal with my dad, and how the Lobanovs are in search of him.
At some point, I stood still, and I gave careful thought to telling them about the worst of it all.
How my father intended to sell me off to the point where I thought of running away from home.
But I couldn't tell them that. The thought of it was so embarrassing.
Why on earth would someone treat his daughter like that?
It was insane, and I didn't want it to get the best of me.
“Are you okay?” Emilia's voice got my attention, and I nodded my head in response. I walked back to the sofa and took my seat between them. Emilia's arms wrapped around me, and Isabella patted my back gently.
“Don't worry about it, okay, we're here for you every step of the way. I know it’s not easy, but you can be assured that you have our full support.”
Emilia's words brought calm. Her voice soothed my mind, and though I tried to hide my tears, it felt nearly impossible to hold them back.
“On the bright side, Roman is probably the best person to be forced into marriage with, don't you think? I mean, for someone like you who's in the media, he seems to be the right fit.”
“Why do you act like that?” Emilia asked Isabella, who shrugged.
I smiled. They were both the perfect parts of me expressed in a different body, and I loved it.
Their presence was better than anything I could have asked for.
I was dying for someone to talk to, for people who'd treat me as an equal, not like a slave.
People who realized that I had a life and a choice.
I wondered what Roman had in mind, but I knew that all I wanted was this.
Love and connection, and I would stop at nothing to keep it.
We had another group hug after I saw them off. I didn't want to let go, but I had to. God, I wish I could cajole them into staying, but I couldn't. Roman’s mansion didn't really feel like home because I was forced into it. Regardless, I knew that this wasn't the end.
Shortly after their departure, I turned to head back, and Stepan approached me. I stood still, cautious of whatever he wanted to say or do. He looked dangerously buff, and his voice was like the gentle roar of a wildcat.
“The designers are here to help you choose a dress for the gala tonight. If you don't mind, they're up in your suite,” he said, and I exhaled.
“Tell them I'll be with them shortly,” I said before he walked off. I could swear that each step he took was twice the step I'd have to take to catch up with him. But I stayed back a little bit, trying to feel hopeful for whoever and whatever was going to come my way.
***********
We spent hours with the so-called designers and their surprising taste in color and style. I had one pick me a nice fitted white gown with a flowery collar. It was the best out of all the things they brought for me to try on.
“Roman said the theme was mostly plain, so we decided to bring plain colors for you to try on,” they said.
A horrible gala that would be, I thought.
I kept on trying, the stylist kept at it, and I felt tired of saying no to almost everything they brought along.
The only dress I gave a second thought to was the champagne gown that had a long train.
It was long enough to hide my shoes, and it stood out because it was bolder than the rest.
Later that night, when it was time for the gala, I deliberately chose a wine dress instead. I put my makeup on and glossed my lips in bold red. Roman walked into the room to check on me, and I saw that he was unhappy with what I wore.
“Out,” he said. “Everybody.”
The designers and stylists walked out of the room, and I stood still, with every step he made bringing him closer to me.
“I see you like challenging me,” he said.
“Well, I don't like being a prop. If I'm going to do something like this, it'll have to be on my terms.”
Roman turned his head to the side and ran his hand through his hair.
His steps towards me were careful, as though rehearsed.
His face nearly touched mine, and I traced his beauty with my eyes.
Truly, his eyes were one of his best features, and I prayed that no matter what happens, he wouldn't do anything that would catch me off guard.
I felt something touch my back. I looked down and saw that his hand was at my waist.
I knew he was displeased with my gown, but I didn't know what his touch meant. Was he trying to see if it fit me? Was he trying to pull it off me from behind? It could be something good or bad, and I hated the uncertainty.
His hands moved from the lower end of my back to the top, and I swallowed hard on my saliva. “You'll have to be careful while you do that.”
“Why?”
“Because if you touch me again, I'm afraid you won't be able to stop.”
Our eyes locked in for a moment. The air tensed between us. His breath was fresh and a little bit cold. My eyes darted to his lips for a split second, and somehow, I found myself trying hard not to focus on his face, yet his face was the only thing I saw.
He kept moving his hands behind me, and my breathing became heavy.
Roman’s hands weren't ordinary. They were seductive, and although I found it hard to admit, I liked it.
I liked the way he touched me, and I didn't want him to stop.
The more we stared at each other, the more electrifying it was.
I felt like a teenager all over again. It was like the moments before prom when you'd stand with your date.
I didn't think I'd ever experience this side of Roman, but now that I have, I don't want this addiction to end.