Chapter 14 - Angelika
The four white walls of my bedroom are even more cage-like now that I’ve tasted a brief moment of true freedom. Dramatically, I flop down onto my bed and growl angrily, with my face pressed into my pillow so the sound is muffled and silenced.
I want to be back in Barbados, sipping cocktails and swimming with Diomid.
I want to be laughing with him and pulling faces at him when he tricks me into eating gross things.
I want to walk down those colorful streets and watch the sun set, framing yachts over the ocean as it sinks low and the sky turns beautiful colors.
I even want to go to his warehouse again and help out there. I want to handle the mishaps, the random things, the mistakes, the dangers, the quiet moments in between all of that…
But I want to do it with him.
The realization annoys me more than anything. I miss the island and the adventures it offers. Anyone would. But the thing I miss the most is him.
That annoying, arrogant, bossy, charming, sexy as all hell, gorgeous, smiling man who drove me crazy in more ways than I can count. I miss him.
And I miss that wild, passionate, insanely good sex.
My body refuses to let me forget it, and every night, alone in bed, I’ve been playing with myself to try and ease the tension. But it’s not helping. I want him. I want his body against mine and his dark, dangerous words filled with delicious warnings.
I want to be a good girl for him.
What a stupid thought, Angelika. Grow up. Pull yourself together.
I let out another agitated growl into my pillow, bordering on an outright scream.
“Sheesh, do you have PMS or something?” Stefania says, making me jump as she walks into my room.
“Ugh, I’m so bored I want to die,” I groan, rolling onto my back.
“Tell me about it,” she sighs, flopping down onto the bed next to me. Lying on her back, both of us staring at the white ceiling.
White walls. White marble floors. White ceiling.
“Do you think I should paint the walls pink?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“What has gotten into you?” she laughs.
“I’m serious. Why is everything so white? It’s clinical. No wonder I feel insane.”
“I think you have post-holiday blues. No one goes to a place like Barbados and comes back feeling ok with their life,” she muses, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands.
“Girl, I have to take you there one day. That place is like another world. It’s so… free. Everything is beautiful. And everything is new. The ocean is different. The air is different. The people. Wow. They’re all so friendly and relaxed.”
“Yep, post-holiday blues. That’s what’s wrong with you.” She nods.
I laugh, rolling my eyes.
“You’re probably right. I went from an island to a white cell,” I groan, gesturing around my room.
“What about Diomid Abashin?” she asks, her tone suggestive.
“What about him?” I say too quickly.
“He’s really hot,” she whispers.
“Stef, he’s an Abashin. That would be weird.”
“Oh please, don’t even try and tell me you didn’t perv him the whole time. A girl is allowed to look, you know.”
Giggling, I shake my head. “You need to get out more.”
She scoffs and playfully pushes my shoulder. “Like to Barbados, with a guy so hot I’d let him have all my babies,” she says, laughing.
“Stop it, our brothers will have your head on a plate if they hear you talking like that. We’ll never be allowed in public again.”
“True,” she says, pressing her lips together.
Stef pushes off the bed and stretches her arms over her head. “I’m going to make grilled cheese. Do you want some? It’s only one, dinner is far away, and I’m getting hungry.”
“Yes, I need something to do before I jump out of that window to end this misery.”
“It’s one floor up. The worst you could do is twist an ankle.”
“It’s the fact that I’d be trying that counts. You know, the effort,” I argue.
“You’re so weird. Sometimes I wonder if we’re really related,” she grins.
“Hey, that’s rude,” I laugh, following her downstairs. “Oh, wait, I need to pee. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
***
Walking through the hallway, I think about how grateful I am that Stef is around.
She saves me from myself. Makes me laugh.
Make light of difficult things. And she also thinks Diomid is super-hot.
Imagine if I could tell her everything that really happened.
I wouldn’t dare, though. I can’t pull her into my drama.
It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to keep that secret.
As I walk past my brother’s office, I hear a word that makes my entire body go rigid with fear and anxiety.
Auction.
“Yes, they seem to think there’s another auction being arranged for tomorrow night. Can you confirm it?”
My feet are glued to the ground, and I have to reach out and hold onto the wall to stop myself from collapsing as my head spins. The fear, the terror I felt when they had me, it all comes flooding back as though I was right back there.
They’re hosting another auction.
“Ok, so it is tomorrow night. No, she’s not leaving the house, but let’s keep our ears to the ground. Stay in touch. Thanks, man.”
Jaroslav hangs up, ending the call, and I fight the panic attack threatening to drown me.
Somehow, I manage to run back to my room and quietly close the door. Kneeling on my bedroom floor with my head against the carpet, I take slow, desperate breaths.
All of those women. Those innocent girls are going through what I went through. They’ll be sold to disgusting men. Tortured. Used. Hurt. I can’t bear the thought of it. I can’t ignore it.
It takes me a while to stop the wild, heavy beat of my heart and slow my body down enough to stand up.
Reaching for my phone, my hands are shaking as I type out a message to Diomid. We haven’t spoken since the day he dropped me off at home. But right now, I need his help. And he’s literally the only person I can ask to do this for me.
Me: Diomid, it’s me, Angelika. I know I’m asking a lot, but I need your help.
I just found out that there is another auction tomorrow night.
Please, I’m begging you, help me stop it.
I don’t know how. But I can’t do it alone.
I really need you. My brothers will kill me if they find out I’m even thinking about this, but the thought of those innocent women being sold…
I can still see the faces of those men, the ones who were bidding.
I’ve never been so desperate to stop something in my life, and I’m begging you. Help me stop this.
I hit ‘send’ and clench my hand into a fist to try and stop it from shaking. But it won’t.
“Hey, did you change your mind?” Stef asks, peeking around my bedroom door.
“Oh, no, I was just checking something,” I answer quickly, hoping she doesn’t notice how weird my voice sounds.
“Hurry up, Zakhar smelt the cheese and now he’s in the kitchen. If you don’t come soon, he’s going to eat it all, you know how he gets.”
I laugh, standing up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and plastering a smile onto my face.
“You sure you’re ok? You look a little pale.” Stef walks toward me, her brows knotted.
I wave my hand in dismissal. “I’m not pale. If anything, I’m more tanned than you, after my island escape. You’re just jealous,” I joke, pushing her toward the door.
She scoffs, snapping back, as cheeky as ever.
***
Downstairs, the rich aroma of melting cheese assaults me. My stomach churns. I’m too anxious to eat, but I need to. I can’t let them know I’m struggling.
Zakhar and Evengil are both there, making very quick work of the grilled cheese sandwiches Stef has already made. “You guys are savages. I have to make a whole new lot now,” she complains, slapping at Zakhar with the wooden spatula she’s been using to flip them in the pan.
“I’ll have another one, seeing as you’re making,” Zakhar says.
“You have to wait for your turn! Angel and I haven’t had any yet!” she complains.
“If you’re too slow, you lose out,” Evengil laughs.
I stand quietly to the side, listening to their banter, trying to join in, but inside I’m dying. All I want is to hear his response to my message. Will he help me?
What will he say?
I can’t stop thinking about those girls.
I can’t stop thinking about those disgusting men who were crowded around the stage watching me.
Sneaking my phone out of my pocket, I turn the screen on to check. No reply. I slip it back in. My siblings continue to taunt each other.
Stef hands me a plate with a fresh, crispy, and hot grilled cheese toasty on it.
Zakhar grabs one half of it and grins at me. “I’ll give you the other half of mine when it’s ready,” he says.
I laugh, shaking my head. “No, you won’t. Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”
He chuckles and takes a bite of the half, which is almost the entire thing.
I take a bite of my half, a small one, chewing slowly, begging my stomach to calm down so I can at least finish this piece without attracting any attention to myself.
Two o’clock arrives, and I haven’t heard from Diomid.
My tension is getting worse.
I’m checking the phone more frequently and driving myself crazy.
Three o’clock.
Five.
Six.
Dinner, where I can hardly eat anything at all, and have to make an excuse that I ate too much during the day. I still sit with everyone else at the table, though, trying to be normal in my haze of panic.
Eight and I head upstairs to shower.
Nine and I’m lying in bed staring at my phone, wondering why he doesn’t even have the decency to reply to me.
Three in the morning and I’m tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
The next day is even worse.
I got a few hours of broken sleep last night, just enough that I don’t look like total shit, but not enough to make me feel like myself.
I’m tired, grumpy, agitated, and angry with Diomid for ignoring me.
The auction is tonight.
Maybe he will still reply.
Maybe he’s just waiting it out.