Chapter 17
ALINA
T he cold metal of the cuffs bit into my wrists as Pavel unlocked them, leaving behind raw, irritated skin.
I resisted the urge to rub at the lingering sting, blinking against the sudden brightness as he yanked the hood from my head.
My eyes stung as I tried to think through the disorientation while everything around me seemed to shift and blur.
After hours—days?—spent in darkness, my senses struggled to adjust.
I thought I slept some, but I couldn't be sure.
All I knew was that my head pounded, my throat was painfully dry, my stomach empty, and my arms ached from hanging above my head for so long.
Every muscle in my body protested from being held in the same position for too long. A fog seemed to cloud my thoughts, making it hard to focus on anything beyond the physical discomfort .
Before I could orient myself, Pavel reached for me.
I shrank back, away from his touch, curling my knees to my chest, trying to make myself smaller.
Harder to grab.
His eyes darkened, his lips curling into a scowl. "Come here. Now."
He ordered me like a dog.
My stomach twisted at the command, but I stayed frozen in place.
My muscles were too heavy with fear and indecision.
Did I follow his orders and come to him, ever the obedient pet, or did I run?
What else was he planning on doing to me? Would running make it worse? Could it get worse?
"Where are you taking me?" I asked hesitantly.
"Don't ask questions," he bit out, reaching for me again.
I jerked away from him, acutely aware of how naked I was. "Can I at least have something to wear?"
"No."
"Please, I'm cold." I asked again, and he gave me a flat look. "Can I take out the…the…thing?"
My cheeks burned with humiliation, as my core ached from his brutal cock and my ass was still stretched around the…I couldn't even say the words—butt plug.
"No." His word was final. "Come here and do as you are told, or I will get a bigger plug for your pretty little ass."
Before I could react, his fingers closed around my ankle, and he yanked me across the smooth sheets .
I tried to claw at the bed, to grasp onto something to stop him, but the silk gave me nothing to grip.
A startled gasp escaped me as I landed in his lap, my body colliding with his chest.
My legs spread over his thighs, giving him access to whatever he wanted.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and held me in place.
For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, then for another, longer moment I thought he was going to take out his cock and make me ride him, taking me again like the brute he was.
The room was eerily silent.
No movement. Just the two of us.
Like we were the only two people left in the world.
My skin prickled as I waited to see what he was going to do. What did I want him to do?
The tension broke when he let go of my hair and pushed me off of him just to sweep me off my feet, literally.
He carried me effortlessly into the dining area, settling me onto his lap at the large, elegant table.
A lavish feast stretched across the polished surface—decadent dishes, some familiar and others… less so. There were a few bottles of wine with pretty labels that looked expensive. It was an overwhelming display of indulgence.
Despite not having eaten properly in days, nausea threatened.
The sight of so much food should have made my mouth water, should have had me starving.
Instead, my stomach churned.
There were so many chairs around this table. It could easily fit ten to twelve people. Why did he have me on his lap? Why wasn't I allowed to put on clothes? What was he going to do with me?
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I ate before you kidnapped me from the club."
My stomach betrayed my words with a low, angry growl.
Pavel smirked. "When was the last time you actually ate?"
I eyed the food warily, knowing full well I had no intention of eating.
"I had an apple," I muttered absentmindedly.
His smirk vanished, replaced with a cold, hard line.
"An apple?" He grasped my jaw, his grip firm but not cruel, forcing me to meet his gaze. "That's it?"
I blinked. "More like half an apple, kind of."
A muscle in his jaw ticked. "That's not good. You need to eat."
My lips parted, a sharp retort slipping out before I could stop it. "Sorry, I guess being kidnapped and assaulted messed with my eating plans today."
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
The words hung between us like a loaded weapon.
Pavel's fingers tightened just a fraction before he slowly reached for a piece of buttered black bread.
"Careful, babygirl," he murmured. "I may not let the next outburst slide. Do not let those pretty lips get away from you, unless you want another punishment. Is your ass already missing the sting of my belt?"
I stiffened, clamping my lips shut and staring at the wood grain on the tabletop. I meant to stay quiet, I really did. Apparently, the brutality I had suffered, the endless orgasms and being tied to a bed for who knew how long, made me a little more hangry than usual.
I scowled, my lower lip pushing out in a slight pout.
Pavel chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. It should've been reassuring, but it wasn't.
His laugh was laced with something dark.
Amusement.
He was laughing at me. His amusement was at my expense.
My shoulders tensed, my body reacting with pure survival instinct. I wanted to get off his lap, to walk away from him, or turn and tell him how I didn't enjoy being the butt of his jokes.
There were enough vile men in my life who laughed at me, belittled me. I didn't want another. Not that he was giving me a choice in the matter.
He must have noticed, because the laughter stopped just as suddenly as it started.
His expression turned unreadable.
The mood in the room shifted once more.
Back to a thick tension, while I waited for the next shoe to drop.
Without warning, he sighed, standing abruptly.
He set me aside on my own wooden chair. I was grateful until I shifted, and the hard, cold wood pushed the plug even deeper into my abused behind.
He brushed off imaginary dust from his expensive slacks before turning his back on me .
"Stay here. Be a good girl and don't move." His voice lowered. "Or you'll regret it."
My heart pounded, but I didn't dare challenge him.
Not yet.
There was no actual way for me to escape. I wasn't just going to run out of the room naked with this thing sticking out of me. I needed to bide my time. Make a plan, then escape when the time was right.
The easiest way to make him loosen the reins was to make him think he had already won.
So for now, I would take this disrespect and swallow the humiliation that left me cold.
Pavel disappeared into the bedroom, only to return moments later with a charcoal-gray, cable-knit sweater draped over his arm. He held it out expectantly. "Arms up."
I hesitated, staring at him. It was a trick. It had to be a trick. Right?
When I didn't comply fast enough, he rolled his eyes and simply pulled it over my head himself, the thick fabric settling warmly over my shoulders. For the first time in hours, I exhaled a shaky breath of relief.
It smelled like him—clean, woodsy, expensive. It shouldn't have comforted me. I should have felt stifled, trapped. Instead, I felt warm, protected, and almost cozy.
The contradiction disturbed me more than I wanted to admit.
He wasted no time pulling me back onto his lap.
Again.
This time, he held up a delicate blini topped with caviar .
"Eat."
I wrinkled my nose at the pungent, fishy smell. "No, thank you."
Pavel's grip tightened on my waist. "Eat."
"But I don't like caviar."
His brows lifted. "Have you ever had it?"
It's fish eggs. Who could possibly like it?
"Well, no, but—" There were lots of things I hadn't tried that I knew I wouldn't like. I didn't say the last part out loud. God only knew what kinds of depraved ideas it would give him.
"Then eat." He pressed the bite against my lips. "Trying new things is the spice of life."
I huffed, pushing away his hand. "My life is already spicy enough, thank you very much. I think we both know I have tried plenty of new things since meeting you."
Pavel gave me a dirty smirk, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.
I glared at him, but he didn't remove the fishy monstrosity from in front of my face. His silent demand was clear.
Reluctantly, I took the bite.
The instant the salty little bubbles burst on my tongue, I regretted it. The briny, fishy taste flooded my mouth, making my stomach lurch. I would rather starve to death than ever eat that again.
My nose scrunched, my gag reflex hit hard as the rest of my body tensed.
Everything about it was wrong—the texture, the overwhelming saltiness, the way it seemed to coat my tongue .
But I didn't dare spit it out.
Not in front of him. I had seen how much this awful stuff cost. Would he yell at me for wasting such an expensive… delicacy?
Pavel watched me closely, his sharp gaze missing nothing.
After a moment, he held up a napkin, silently offering me an out.
Hesitant, embarrassed, and terrified of angering him, I spat it out, quickly muttering an apology for not appreciating his expensive taste.
But then the words slipped out?—
"It tastes like a salty dead fish."
Instant regret washed over me. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut? Bracing myself, I waited for his reaction. For his hand to slam across my face or for him to grab my shoulders and slam me down on the table before getting his belt again.
But Pavel laughed.
Not just a smirk. A real, amused laugh. It sounded pure and spontaneous, like he couldn't help himself.
It unsettled me more than anything else he'd done. Laughter like that only came from joy. Could a man that evil experience things like joy without his emotions being contaminated with malice?
The entire situation was unsettling.
I was trapped with a man who could kill me in an instant, and every instinct in my body screamed at me to run. Nothing good could come after that laughter.
My eyes darted around the penthouse, flying over the luxurious space, scanning for anything—anyone—who might help me.
There was no one. No allies. No escape.
We were alone, and I was trapped.
My fate was tied to this treacherous man, whether or not I liked it. The weight of it settled like lead in my chest. I was stuck, and my time was running out.
My fingers twitched as I tugged at the hem of the sweater, wishing it were longer, thicker, and I could just hide from the world in its thick threads.
The movement sent a sharp ache through my body—a painful reminder of just how thoroughly he claimed me. Another small jolt and the plug nudged deeper inside me. Every time I thought I was used to it, something would remind me of its full weight.
Pavel watched my reaction, his amusement fading. His gaze turned sharp.
He wasn't finished with me. There was something more he wanted. What was left?
"Now. Tell me about your grandmother. And your father."
I shook my head, refusing.
Pavel could do whatever he wanted to me, but I wouldn't put my grandmother in danger. Not again. I wouldn’t betray my family like my father did.
His expression darkened.
With slow, deliberate movements, he stood and placed me on my feet, so he was hovering over me.
I took a shaky step back, and he followed me.
Every time I retreated, he advanced until my back hit the wall .
My pulse spiked, and it became impossible to swallow as he pressed his forearms to the wall, caging me in.
His presence was overwhelming. Suffocating. Inescapable. And just a little intoxicating.
"Tell me, Alina."
I swallowed hard.
But no matter how close he got?—
I wouldn't give him what he wanted. I couldn't.
"No." Not yet.
Pavel didn't like that answer.
Slowly, deliberately, his patience snapped.
He reached beside him to a drawer in the long buffet table and pulled out a wooden box. Flipping open the lid, he dumped out a pile of loose and bundled photographs.
The sight hit me like a physical blow.
My stomach plummeted. He knew.
"Where did you get those?"
He didn't look up. "Your apartment."
A chill raced down my spine. Of course he did. I wondered what else he had found.
"I emptied it. So I have everything."
The blood drained from my face, and my hands shook.
"You—"
"You no longer live there. It isn't safe."
No longer caring if he retaliated, I pressed my hands to his chest and tried to shove him back.
He must not have been expecting it.
I managed to move him back a good foot and a half, just enough to duck under his arm and escape the cage his body had me in .
The sweater slipped past my knees, drowning me in warmth I no longer wanted.
"How dare you go through my things?" I hissed, hands trembling.
Pavel ignored my outrage, lifting one of the photographs. "You said you were paying back your father's debts. You didn't fucking say anything about this."
I froze. Staring at the photo with my grandmother's eyes burned out.
His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.
"Either tell me what is going on… or I get my belt."