Chapter 13 - Elisse
I learned very quickly that the penthouse had been designed by a paranoid man.
Not paranoid in the frantic, irrational sense, but someone who was intentionally calculated.
Every hallway ended in reinforced doors and every window was sealed with nearly invisible security layering.
The elevator required biometric clearance, which I did not possess.
Even the stairwell, which was hidden behind a panel near the service corridor, required a code that reset every twelve hours.
I had tested everything, but I still continued to look for a way out.
I waited until Fyodor left that morning, dressed in black, his expression carved from stone after a quiet exchange in Russian with Viktor before the door shut behind him.
My Russian had never been strong, so it had been difficult to comprehend what they were saying. But as soon as he was gone, I moved.
I started with the obvious. The balcony, once again, was thirty stories above the city.
The glass railing was solid and unyielding, and the building had no drainpipes or adjacent rooftops close enough to jump without shattering every bone in my body.
I paced the perimeter, counting the hidden cameras which were scattered everywhere.
One of them was above the sliding doors, and another was angled from the opposite corner.
It was subtle but unavoidable, and I went back inside disappointedly.
I made my way to the kitchen since Anya was not there, and the maids were both gone too, leaving me alone in the house, and I looked around.
My gaze went to the knives, which were sharp and plentiful, but useless without access to anything.
The service entrance was also locked, and so was the fingerprint panel, but I pressed my thumb to it anyway.
A sharp red light met my gaze, and I exhaled sharply. Of course.
I moved to the study next, which was also Fyodor’s command center, and noticed the multiple monitors lining one wall.
They showed surveillance feeds of the building, the street below, and even the private garage.
I watched the guards rotate and tried to time their movements as best as they could.
I tried to look for any possible blind spots but quickly realized there were none.
He had built this place like a fortress.
No. Not built. Converted. He had transformed something luxurious into something impenetrable.
Since I was bored yet determined, I even checked the vents, but quickly realized they were too narrow to fit me.
The storage closet near the hallway was nothing but linens, and all my searches did not lead me to a secret escape door.
I made my way to the master bedroom, and my stomach twisted as I stepped inside.
It still felt like stepping into something intimate and dangerous, even though I slept there almost every night.
The bed was still unmade, and when I went closer, I could see how his scent lingered in the sheets.
I shoved the thought aside and crossed to the bathroom, noticing the frosted windows sealed shut.
I tried the small utility hatch behind the mirror, but it was locked as well.
I leaned back against the counter dejectedly, staring at my reflection.
My hair looked wild while my eyes appeared sharper than they’d been days ago.
I looked like someone planning war.
There was no escape, even when I kept trying again and again.
Every door, every hallway. And every panel was locked.
Hours passed, and by midday, frustration burned hot in my chest. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t leave, but it almost felt as if he knew I would try.
Every safeguard whispered the same thing: I see you. I know you. I anticipated this.
By late afternoon, sweat clung to my spine, and my hands ached from pulling at handles that refused to budge.
The cage wasn’t visible, but it was absolute, and the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t cruel.
It was simply careful, and that realization unsettled me more than locked doors ever could.
The elevator chimed softly, and my head snapped toward it.
Footsteps were measured and unhurried as if he knew exactly what I had been doing and was giving me time to straighten up. I waited as the front door opened and closed behind him, followed by nothing but silence.
And then his voice echoed from outside, “Find anything useful?”
I stiffened. He stood near the entryway, jacket still on, eyes dark and assessing, and I didn’t answer. He stepped further inside, gaze sweeping over the slightly displaced furniture, the open study door, the faint signs of disturbance only someone as observant as him would notice.
“You started with the balcony, I assume?” he said calmly.
I crossed my arms.
“You reinforced the cameras.”
“Yes.”
“You added a second rotation downstairs.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
Anger flared in my chest.
“You arrogant—”
He crossed the room in three powerful strides and stood in front of me. Nothing about him was violent, or frantic, or decisive. He caught my wrist as I moved past him, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to stop me.
“Enough.”
“Let go of me.”
Instead, he almost dragged me towards the living room, nothing about the action being rough.
But despite that, it had no room for argument.
I let him handle me as he pushed me down onto the sofa while I glared up at him, chest rising too fast. He sat down in front of me, something about the whole thing seeming strangely normal when both of us knew it was anything but.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” I questioned, but he simply pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, placing it in my hand while I stared at it in disbelief. It felt like ages had gone by since I had touched a phone.
“You want out, right?” he said evenly. “Call them.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“Call Iosif or Avgust. Anyone. Call.” My pulse thudded loudly in my chest as I looked at him. “Tell them where you are.” He crouched in front of me now, eyes locked on mine. “Tell him everything.”
My fingers tightened around the device. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s a trick.”
“It isn’t.”
The phone felt impossibly heavy.
“You think I won’t?” I whispered.
“I know you might.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“And you’re just okay with that?”
His gaze didn’t waver for a single second.
“If that’s what you choose, I am okay with it.”
My heart pounded harder as I looked down at the screen, noticing how his contacts list was open.
Iosif’s number was right there on the screen in front of me, him being just one tap away.
That was all it would take. One call. I was sure Iosif would answer, hear my voice, and everything would ignite after that.
Iosif wouldn’t hesitate, and neither would Avgust. There would be blood, retaliation, and bodies.
And it was not only the Romanov men who would pay the price, but everyone would.
My brothers and Fyodor and Chernykh men. My stomach twisted violently.
“You’re insane,” I breathed.
“Perhaps.”
“You think this makes you noble?”
“No.”
“Then what is this?”
“Choice. Isn’t that what you wanted from the very beginning? I am giving it to you now.”
My hand trembled slightly as I pictured Iosif’s face when he would realize how I had been kidnapped.
I could imagine his quiet fury and the war that would follow.
This wasn’t just about rescuing me anymore; it was about pride, territory, and power.
The Romanovs had taken something, and marriage made it permanent, and permanence meant war.
My thumb hovered over the screen, and I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.
“You don’t know what that would do,” I said hoarsely.
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“Elisse.” My name, in his voice sounding low and steady, did something to my ribs.
“You think I want them dead?” he asked quietly, and I swallowed.
“You think I want you dead?” The room felt too small. “You’re manipulating me by handing me this phone.”
“I am not. Call him.”
My chest felt like it was caving in, because he wasn’t stopping me. He wasn’t threatening or even flinching; instead, he was offering, and that terrified me.
“You’re not afraid,” I whispered.
He leaned closer.
“I am.”
That admission sliced through me.
I tore my gaze from the phone and looked at him fully.
“You’re afraid of my brothers?”
“I am afraid, but not of your brothers.”
“Then of what?”
“Of you choosing them.” The words knocked the air out of me. He always managed to say things that made me go speechless.
“I will always choose my family,” I shot back automatically.
“I hope so. Because you’re my family now and I am yours.”
Anger exploded inside me.
“You don’t get to say that!”
“You signed the papers.”
“You forced me to sign them.” My hand shook even harder.
“Call him,” he repeated softly.
My throat burned as I stared at the contact before me, but even before my brain registered it, I knew I couldn’t do it.
Because I saw it all too clearly. I could see the fallout and the blood and the destruction that would follow.
And somewhere in that image, I saw Fyodor.
Standing in the middle of it. Alone. I hated that my chest tightened at the thought, and I hated that I couldn’t separate strategy from something else.
With a strangled sound of frustration, I threw the phone onto the couch beside me.
“I hate you.” He didn’t react. “I hate that you did this.”
He nodded once. “I know.”
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
“You think I won’t resent you forever? I will resent you even more now because of what you just did to me.”
“I know, Elisse.” His acceptance infuriated me more than anything.
“You’re insufferable!”
“And you’re terrified.”
“I am not!”
“You are.”
“Of what?” I demanded.
“Of what you’re starting to feel.”