Chapter 11 —Ravyn
My eyes fluttered open slowly and easily as the early morning sun streamed through the windows, kissing my face. The pillow and mattress beneath me were soft and comfortable, with white sheets wrapped around my body to keep me warm.
I blinked a few times, memories flooding back to ruin my mood this morning. My heart skipped a beat when I realized where I was and that today marked the first day of being Lev Tarasov’s property.
I rolled over, lying on my back with my eyes fixed on the ceiling. I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could endure this—how long I’d survive in this place. My eyes wandered around, taking in the sight of this carefully arranged room.
The windows were all made of glass, floor-to-ceiling, the kind that gave the room a modern look. Every surface was immaculate, every object perfectly placed, as if nothing here was meant to be touched.
Plush white couches and sofas were arranged around the bed, their sleek curves softening the sharp, modern lines of the white-colored bedroom. A massive flat-screen TV dominated one wall like a black canvas against the whiteness.
The room had an almost ethereal calm, as if it floated high above the noise of the world. Lev might have been the devil himself, but he still had class—refined taste in elegance and style. The bed itself was built for nothing but comfort, covered with crisp white sheets and soft pillows.
I tossed the sheets to the side and sat on the edge of the mattress, my feet resting on the fluffy rug at the base of the bed. My fingers combed my tangled hair as I stared blankly into space, the sound of a distant siren drifting through the air.
With a few steps, I walked over to the glass window overlooking the cityscape below. Like a beautiful painting, the city spread across the vast land—skyscrapers piercing the clouds, streets glowing with headlights and bustling people, tiny as ants from this height, going about their daily routines.
I heaved a sigh and lowered my head, fingers rubbing my tired eyes. I didn’t get enough sleep last night because every so often, I’d rise and check on that monster in his study.
The way he’d left the room last night was rather suspicious—it wasn’t at all what I expected from him. I was grateful, though, relieved that he didn’t try anything funny. However, the million-dollar question remained: Why?
What was his game? What the hell was he playing at?
I wasn’t trying to be ungrateful about how last night turned out in my favor; I was just trying to make sense of his decision.
Clearly, it wasn’t because he somehow grew a conscience at the last minute.
No. Lev Tarasov had something else up his sleeve.
Or maybe this was just my paranoia making mountains out of molehills. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood last night—too exhausted from the day’s activity. He might come at me when I least expected, and that was exactly what I dreaded.
I was prepared last night—emotionally and mentally—I was ready to get it over and done with. But then he switched tactics, deciding to sleep in his study instead. Except that he didn’t sleep all through the night. The man was busy working—on the night of his so-called wedding.
The fact that he was awake when he was supposed to be asleep was the reason I barely got any sleep myself. I couldn’t let my guard down, even after getting a pardon from the enemy. How could I when he was awake in the room across the hallway, planning God-knows-what?
So, I decided to stay up all night because I was unsure of his motive. He probably caught me peeking from behind the bedroom door more than once. But he didn’t say a word—didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
He just sat there with his study door slightly open, enough for me to see him working at his desk.
It wasn’t until late hours of the morning that I fell asleep on the couch.
That was when it hit me.
Wait a second. If I’d fallen asleep on the couch, how the fuck did I wake up on the bed?
I turned around, shifting my gaze between the couch and the bed, wondering how this was possible. My eyes squinted at the possibility slipping into my mind, but I shook my head, trying to dismiss it as false.
What if it was him? What if it was Lev? What if he’d found me on the couch and then carried me to the bed?
No. He couldn’t have. That man was a heartless demon. No way he was capable of something as selfless as that.
Are you sure about that? I thought to myself. Because we’re talking about the same guy who took a pass on forcing himself on you.
That made the kind of sense it shouldn’t have, and it really freaked me out. It was the only explanation since I couldn’t remember falling asleep on the bed.
How dare he touch me? He should’ve left me where I was!
Well, I did wake up warm and cozy beneath the sheets.
I hated admitting that he was right to have carried me to the bed. I didn’t know monsters could pull a stunt like that.
Speaking of monsters, why was he anyway?
I explored the large bedroom, and there was no sign of him. Good. At least, I had some time to myself to breathe and think properly.
After a warm bath, I changed into some clean clothes—jean pants and a white top. How the hell did he even know my size? Every dress in the closet fit me perfectly, and none of them were my old clothes. I didn’t wear any of them, thanks to that misogynistic monster who called himself my husband.
Quietly, I stepped out of the bedroom, wandering the mansion like a lost puppy. The building had a sleek, modern interior. The hallways glowed with soft light from the hanging chandeliers, and every room I checked gleamed with modern elegance.
However, despite all these, something was missing. Life. The air itself felt hollow, and for all its polish, the place felt empty. Almost dead. No photographs, no art adorning the walls, no personal touches. Only cold perfection.
This was a home? No. It was more like a prison.
While exploring the building, I noticed a few domestic staff: maids with straight faces and some mean-looking men. Nobody said a word to me; they all just went about their business as if I didn’t exist.
Maybe that was a good thing because I just wanted to be alone anyway.
***
Later that night, I caught the scent of something disturbing lingering in the hallway. I wasn’t sure what it was; it smelled like gun oil. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were, considering the status of the owner of this cursed place.
Not every room in the mansion was accessible. Some were locked as if something creepy was hidden behind those doors. Whatever was locked away in those rooms wasn’t my concern, and I wasn’t about to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.
Later that evening, about five men arrived at the mansion: men with mean faces, black suits, and eyes cold as ice. I was in the living room when they arrived, and although these men didn’t breathe a word to me, their negative aura made my skin crawl.
The housekeeper quietly led them to Lev’s study, and they followed behind her. The air was heavy with unspoken rules, thick with tension and something else that I couldn’t name yet.
Whatever business Lev had with those devils in suits was of no concern to me, even though deep down, their presence was unsettling.
I went back to the master bedroom and sat in a chair by the floor-to-ceiling window.
My legs were pulled up in front of me, and my eyes were fixed on the breathtaking view of the city below.
Twinkling lights sprawled beneath me, towers blinking with red and white as the city’s nightlife pulsed against the glass.
Streets glowed in ribbons of gold, the full moon above casting an ethereal glow over the cityscape.
I sat there with my head against the glass, watching the world move on while I was stuck up here. I was far from my old life, far from everyone and everything I ever cared about. My education was on hold, and with the kind of man I was married to, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever return to college.
I stared at the beautiful city, but the glass felt more like a barrier than a window. This place wasn’t just Lev Tarasov’s home; it was where he kept the things he didn’t want the world to touch.
Unfortunately for me, I was one of those things now—one of his most prized possessions.
I hated it. And my God! I hated him. I hated him so much. But for now, I was stuck with him, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Not yet, anyway.