Chapter 21
ALINA
T his was probably the stupidest, most reckless thing I had ever done.
But I didn't have a choice.
The entire time I was in the elevator, I was sure that I was going to hit the bottom floor and the doors would open to reveal Pavel standing there waiting for me. He would have a sadistic grin on his face, the hood in one hand and his belt in the other.
The elevator landed on the ground floor.
There was an excruciatingly long pause before the doors slid open.
My breath locked in my lungs as I squinted, my eyes half-closed.
The breath I'd been holding rushed out of me in a whoosh.
He wasn't there.
No one was.
I crept down the back halls, and I didn't see a single soul until I passed an office where a manager was giving the cleaning staff a lecture about tight corners when making beds.
He berated them about the importance of ninety-degree angles, and it sounded like everyone was too terrified of the man with the thick Russian accent to look away. For a moment, I wondered if the cleaning staff knew what kind of men were in this hotel?
The staff at the offices were never told, but we still knew.
Thanks to my stolen socks, I was able to creep past the door with no one noticing. It wasn't until I slipped out by the loading dock that I realized I had nowhere to go.
I was out. Completely free, with pockets stuffed with more money than I knew what to do with and nowhere to go. There were no close friends I could turn to, no boyfriends or confidants.
The only person I had was my grandmother, and I couldn't bring this to her nursing home doorstep.
With nowhere else to turn and worried that Pavel was going to find me at any moment, I went to the only place I could think of.
My apartment.
I walked several blocks, through the winding maze of DC streets, keeping my head down and avoiding people's gazes. I couldn't risk making eye contact. What if someone stopped me and asked if I needed help? Or worse, what if they stopped me and mugged me, finding Pavel's cash?
People had died on these streets for far less.
I considered stopping for food, but there was no way I was going to flash that kind of money in this neighborhood. The nicer places where it would be safe would never let me in without shoes, and they all had CCTV, anyway.
It was probably best if I wasn't on camera.
When I got to the block of run-down apartments, I looked around and there was no sign of anyone who shouldn't have been there. No fancy cars, nothing out of place.
Pavel had told me he'd cleared out the apartment, but maybe he was bluffing? Or maybe his men weren't as thorough as he thought. Surely there was something still there. My hidden emergency fund? Some clothing. Clothes that fit me would definitely help. Shoes would have also been great.
The socks only worked until I accidentally stepped in a puddle.
I just needed something, anything that could give me a sliver of control in this world where I clearly had none. Just something of mine.
I climbed the four flights of dirty stairs to my door, before I realized I didn't even have my keys. It didn’t matter; the door was open. Pavel's men must have left it unlocked. I meant, why not? It wasn’t like I had anything of value to steal.
One step inside was all it took for my stomach to plummet at the realization that there was absolutely nothing here.
His men had been very thorough.
The space was a hollow shell of what it once was. The only things that were left were my cheap, impersonal furniture. Most of which I had inherited from the last tenant or rescued from the trash heap when someone else abandoned their apartment.
There was nothing of me in this space. It was like I had never been here.
My breath came out in ragged pants as realization set in.
He had erased me.
Pavel had taken absolutely every sign of me, everything that proved that I had lived here and that I existed. It was all gone.
Tears stung behind my eyes as my stomach rolled, and heat flashed over my cheeks.
How could he?
Pavel had stolen my existence.
How dare he!
Before I could really understand what had happened and figure out if I could or even wanted to do something about it, a shadow moved. I wasn't alone.
"Did you really think you could escape me so easily?" Dark amusement danced in his eyes, but the threat in Pavel’s low voice didn’t quite mask something raw underneath it. Something that sounded almost like…pain? Concern?
But he wasn't asking a question.
He was rendering a verdict.
Just by stepping through that door I had proven that I was guilty. I had sealed my fate.
He was my judge, my jury, and he would be my executioner. Was he going to put me on my knees and shoot me in the head like he had the last uncooperative man?
"Why?" The bitter word left my lips before I could stop it. Did I even want to stop it? What was the point in holding my tongue? He had already wiped me from the face of the earth. It would make it that much easier to kill me if no one, not even a landlord, was looking for me.
"What did I do that was so horrible that you had to erase my existence?"
"You are a very bad girl," he said. There it was again; as he looked at me, really looked at me, something flickered across his features so quickly that I almost missed it.
Could it be relief he’d found me?
No. Stop it. Don’t romanticize him…this.
I was nothing more than a doll he could torment before tossing away.
That was all I was…entertainment.
"Fuck you," I spat, the words venomous. More contempt rose from my chest, hatred accelerating the already rapid pounding of my heart.
He clicked his tongue in disappointment as he took a large step toward me.
I took an equal step back, some of my survival instincts still intact.
"Fuck me? Oh, little kitten, you are going to regret those words.” His voice dropped.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there?
Walking these streets alone, defenseless?
I didn't erase you. I was spoiling you, keeping you safe.
And how did you repay me? You stole my clothes, my money, and abandoned the gift I gave you. "
"Gift?" I took another step back, my legs shaking as the bravery that had carried me this far evaporated into icy terror .
He took the metal plug out of his pocket and sat it down on the dresser.
Why did my body clench with need at the sight of that thing?
"You're going to regret giving that up."
"How is that a gift?" I scoffed.
He took another step toward me, the corners of his mouth lifting and curling into a sinister smile. "You're about to find out. Because you have no idea what men like me do to girls like you. The only reason you're still breathing is because you belong with me."
My back hit the kitchen counter and in a flash he was on me. His hand was warm around my neck as his lips devoured mine.
I tried to fight him; I tried to push him away, but he was too strong, and his pull was just too powerful.
My lips parted for him, and he deepened the kiss.
I almost gave in when he pulled away from me and took a step back.
"What am I going to do with you, babygirl?"
Beg. Apologize. Tell him you'll be better.
"Let me go," I said, sounding much stronger than I felt.
He tipped his head back as he laughed.
“I don't think so. No, you need to understand." His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek with surprising gentleness before his grip tightened. "I almost hate that I have to do this to make you see. Now strip."
"No." I looked around. I was maybe six steps from the door. He was only four.
Could I get around him? Could I make it out of that door and run into the city ?
I'd only have to make it maybe two blocks to get to a busy street. But then where would I go?
Did it matter?
No. It didn't.
I bolted toward the door.
My fingers just brushed the edge of the door before he yanked me back. He kicked the door shut as he tore the winter coat from my body.
"Get off of me," I screamed, and he laughed.
He fucking laughed, before yanking my hair back and sealing his lips over mine again.
His hands tore at my clothing, ripping the shirt from my body and pushing the sweatpants down to my ankles, exposing my flesh to the cold air without a care.
His hands were all over me, groping my breasts, pinching my nipples, and sliding between my legs to stroke my clit. He was everywhere all at once. It was too much and not enough.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he could so easily make my body betray me. It wasn't fair that he could make me want to run from him and kneel for him at the same time. I didn't understand.
His fingers stroked my clit in tight little circles when he broke the kiss and started biting a path down to my shoulder.
"You make me fucking crazy," he rasped. "You can’t just run out into the world trying to throw yourself away."
His astonishing words barely registered as I struggled to fight the familiar pressure building in my core.
"Why can't you just be a good girl? I could be so good to you. Make you come over and over until the only thing you know how to say is my name as you scream it."
"Yes," I gasped, my hands gripping the cracked countertop. I was so wet, and even though I was still sore, I needed him again.
"Maybe this time you'll learn your lesson." His hand gripped the back of my neck as he pushed me down, bending me over the table. The sound of his zipper was loud as he freed his cock, running the head over my folds.
"Please," I begged, hating myself for giving in so easily.
"Let's see if you're still begging in a second."
I was confused by the hint of malice in his words until he kicked my feet a little wider apart.
He teased my entrance with his cock, circling his head over my clit, then rubbing his shaft through the humiliating wetness pooling in my cunt. He was everywhere but deep inside me, where I needed him. Then he moved his cock up, past my aching pussy, to my ass.
"Wait—" I said, trying to stand up.
He held me down, one hand pressed between my shoulder blades, the other stroking my hair almost tenderly before lightly gripping the back of my neck."Shhh, I’ve got you," he whispered against my ear as he pushed his cock into my ass.
It burned, but the deeper he went, the fuller I felt.
This feeling was different from having him in my pussy.
It was darker, forbidden.
It hurt, but there was something else there, too.
Something deeply satisfying.
He was claiming me, the last piece I had just for me .
He was taking it as his.
"That's right, baby. Take every fucking inch."
I put my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the scream rising from my throat.
"Bad girl," he said, giving me a swat on my ass before grabbing both of my hands and twisting them behind my back, his grip firm but not rough. "You belong with me, which means I own every single delectable sound I pull from your sweet body. You will not take them from me."
He pressed in harder, seating himself as deep as he could go.
"Tell me you want it," he growled.
I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound.
He pulled out slowly, then slammed back into me. A deep-seated groan left his lips, and I screamed, silently.
It was my last little act of rebellion.
He fucked me harder, faster, slamming in and out of me, even as I could feel him checking my responses, making sure I was with him. A fine sheen of sweat coated my back and I was panting, trying to hold back, to make sure I didn't come apart for him. Not again.
"Give in to it," he said, punctuating his words with deep thrusts.
I couldn't. I wouldn't.
"Admit you like being used by me. That you like the way my cock stretches your tight little body. Tell me you’re mine to protect. And maybe I’ll let you come."
I wanted to cry, to scream, to moan and beg.
I wanted to give in to him, but something held me back.
I couldn't give in to him .
If I admitted what I wanted, what I felt, it would be all over. There would be no going back.
He slipped his hand between my legs and the counter and started flicking my clit. His thrusts became harder, his cock swelled even more.
"Admit it," he whispered in my ear, his voice tight with desire.
"Admit that you want to be mine. Mine to keep, mine to play with and mine to protect.
Admit that I was the first man to fuck this pretty little face, this tight little cunt, and this perfect little ass.
Tell me I was the first man, and that you want me to be the last."
His words made my head swim, and I couldn't help the soft moans that escaped my lips as he pushed harder and harder, that pressure growing in my core faster and faster, as his fingers applied more pressure to my clit.
"Say it," he demanded.
"Yes," I gasped.
"Not good enough."
"Yes," I said louder. "I want you to be the last man to ever touch me. I want to be yours, and nobody else's. Take me back to the hotel, keep me there, I don't care, I just?—"
My words cut off with a cry of ecstasy as I came hard.
A few thrusts later he was following me over the edge into bliss.
It took me a few moments to recover. When I did, he pulled away from me to gently wipe his come from my body with the shirt I'd been wearing.
His fingers brushed over my skin as he checked me over. I could almost fool myself into thinking he was doing it out of genuine concern for me, as if there was something more hidden beneath the dominance .
But I knew the truth.
This wasn’t care. It was control.
My freedom was an illusion, a cruel joke, and the moment I stepped into this apartment I had walked straight back into his trap.
By the time we got back to the penthouse, there was no pretense left.
No more illusions of escape, no more thoughts of running.
He didn't even bother putting the hood or handcuffs on me.
He knew the truth as well as I did.
As we rode the elevator up, he kept his arm around me, holding me close—not just possessively, although that was undeniable, but with what might have been protectiveness, so I couldn’t disappear into danger again.
He was proving in no uncertain terms that there was no life for me beyond him.
Worst of all, some dark, treacherous part of me wondered if I ever truly had a life beyond him to begin with. And did I even want one anymore?