Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
SOFIYA
The sound of knuckles rapping against the window startles me awake. I’d drifted off again, my head pressed against the cool glass. I didn’t mean to. I tried to stay awake and pay attention to my surroundings and anything that could be useful later on. But physical exhaustion won out.
The light-haired guard with the steel-gray eyes, Emil, announces, “We’re here,” and opens the passenger-side door.
Crisp morning air rushes in, but it does nothing to ease the sense of dread coiling in my stomach. It’s the fact that I have no idea what awaits me. If I’ll be thrown in the dungeon or treated like… well, the pakhan’s wife. That thought is too bizarre to contemplate.
My legs are shaky as I step out of the car, and I brace myself for the worst—rough hands, cuffs, something to remind me I don’t belong here. Instead, Emil reaches out, steadying me with an easy grip.
The house looms before us. Actually, mansion is probably a better term. The exterior is a mix of pale stone and dark wood, with thick columns flanking the entrance. Tall windows reflect the morning light, giving the place an almost magical quality. It’s beautiful, in a cold, intimidating way. Like Nikolai himself.
“In case you’re thinking about running,” Emil says, “I’ll warn you now—there are cameras and security guards everywhere. You wouldn’t get very far.”
I glance around, my heart sinking. Rolling green lawns stretch out, bordered by thick woods. The air is fresh, crisp, too clean to be anywhere near a city. It dawns on me that this isn’t simply a house. It’s a fortress.
“Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to look around later,” Emil adds, tugging me toward the entrance.
The inside catches me off guard. I imagined Dracula’s castle—everything dusty and old—but this is not that. Massive windows allow in plenty of natural light, making it feel open and welcoming. The dark wood floors are stately, and Persian rugs are thrown about the place. The art is tasteful and looks carefully chosen. It’s… nice. Cozy, for such a big space.
I clutch Nikolai’s jacket tighter around me, the scent of cedar and smoke filling my lungs. Nikolai’s space is a reflection of who he is, how he controls his world down to the finest detail. And now I’m part of his world.
My stomach swoops as we pass members of Nikolai’s house staff. Their surprised stares dart between me and Emil, but no one says a word.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
Emil spares me a quick glance. “You look like you need some coffee.”
We enter a room that is clearly the kitchen. It’s more rustic than the main area of the house, with exposed wooden beams that stretch across the ceiling and a long farm table in the center of the room.
The smell of fresh coffee and baked bread wraps around me, and my stomach betrays me with a low growl, a reminder of how little I’d eaten earlier. My nerves wouldn’t let me.
Emil gestures toward a stool at the counter, and I sit hesitantly, watching as he presses a button on a shiny, state-of-the-art machine. Less than a minute later, he slides an espresso in front of me.
“Aren’t you going to offer her something to eat?” I turn in my seat, surprised as a gorgeous woman walks into the room. She looks to be in her early thirties, dressed in sleek workout leggings and a matching sports bra, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail that swings with each step. Her flushed cheeks and glowing skin suggest she’s just come from a workout, as does the horrible-looking green drink she’s sipping. “Excuse Emil. He seems to have forgotten his manners.”
Emil mutters under his breath about not being a damn maid before grabbing his own coffee and sitting at the farm table.
“I’m Eva. And you must be Sofiya,” she says as she holds out her hand in greeting.
I shake it somewhat reluctantly, not knowing what else to do. Am I supposed to be friendly with these people? Do they know I’m here against my will? That I’m not Nikolai’s wife by choice?
I have no idea who this Eva is, but since she’s not a gun-toting guard, maybe she’ll take pity on me. “You need to know that Nikolai abducted me. If you have any shred of decency, you’ll help me. I need to call my sister an?—”
“A word of advice,” she says, cutting me off with a raised hand. “Save your breath. Everyone in this house is loyal to Niko.”
“Then you’re loyal to a bad man,” I snap.
“Good, bad… all that’s subjective,” she responds, taking a sip from her juice.
“It’s really not,” I mutter, disheartened. What did I really expect, though?
“You must be hungry,” Eva says, like I didn’t just tell her I’m a prisoner. She opens a drawer and pulls out a container of baked goods, setting it in front of me. “Muffin? They’re oatmeal flax blueberry muffins. Gluten-free, dairy-free, made them myself.”
Not quite a selling point, but hunger wins out. “Sure.”
She sets one on a plate and slides it across to me. I stare at the sad little thing before reluctantly taking a bite. It’s not as bad as I expected, but it’s definitely not good. Eva beams at me anyway, clearly thrilled that someone is eating her creation.
“So, are you the… cook?” I ask, hoping for a better read on her.
“Oh god, no.” She laughs. “Niko would fire me in a hot second if I tried to feed him anything this healthy. Yelena’s the cook. And the housekeeper. And the boss of all house staff. You’ll see when she’s back from the market.”
Yeah, I guess I will see. I’m stuck here for now.
I was so close—so close to living my life on my terms before Nikolai fucking Zhukov barged in and dragged me into his world like Hades himself. A shiver coasts over my skin. The irony of my dance comes to mind. Did I somehow curse myself?
But I’m not going to accept this fate. I’ll find a way out. I don’t know how yet, but I will. And I’ll do it without putting my friends at risk.
I drain the last of the coffee, the caffeine taking the edge off my exhaustion. It’s not an actual plan, but I’m determined to figure something out. My first step is learning who works and lives in this house—starting with the woman in front of me, still nursing her green sludge.
“So,” I ask casually, “what is it you do here?”
She pauses with her drink halfway to her lips. “Oh, I don’t work here.”
Right. She doesn’t work here, but she recently finished a workout, seems to know her way around the kitchen, is obviously loyal, calls him Niko...
God, I’m such an idiot. She’s his lover.
Of course. What did I expect? He might be evil, but he’s hot as all get out, and she’s also stunningly beautiful. I shouldn’t be surprised someone is warming his sheets, yet I feel the tiniest pang of… I don’t know what. Definitely not jealousy. Irritation?
Would she be as friendly if she found out I had sex with her boyfriend less than twelve hours ago? Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows what kind of open arrangement they have. Whatever it is between them, I don’t care. I want nothing to do with Nikolai, in or out of the bedroom.
But none of this is on her, and if I’m going to be stuck here with her, even for a little while, it's smart to keep things civil between us. Maybe, if we become friendly and I gain her trust, she’ll let something slip that will be helpful in my escape.
Her eyes trail down my body, taking in my disheveled state. At least I still have Nikolai’s jacket over my shoulders. The one kindness he paid me today, if you can call it that. “Looks like you’ve had quite a night. How about I show you to your room?”
My room. When Nikolai put me in the car, he told his men to find me a room. And on the plane, he said he didn’t force himself on women, but now I get it. He has this supermodel to share a bed with every night. I should be relieved, but for whatever reason, I’m annoyed. It’s probably heartburn from the muffin. It sits in my belly like a stone.
“I’d love nothing more than to get out of this disaster of a dress.”
She gives me a quick up-and-down look. “I have a few things that might fit you. I’ll drop them off in the morning.”
I nod and rise from the stool, the buzz from the coffee already wearing off. A shower and sleep will probably do me a world of good. And some answers, but I have a feeling I won’t be getting those anytime soon.