Chapter 6 - Daria
I hated that room. I hated Ivan. And more so, I hated being his prisoner in said room.
Even if it had been no more than an hour since he locked me in there, I felt like I was losing my mind. Being stuck there with nothing to distract myself with, left with only my thoughts to pour over, time seemed to stretch on far longer than usual.
Despite him leaving me there, I hardly moved while the anger, dread, and guilt all weighed my bones down. After all the emotional turmoil I had been through since everything happened, I barely had it in me to get up.
At the moment, I didn’t see much point in it anyway. As far as I could tell, Ivan already won.
He had me trapped in his house against my will, forced to try and deal with the very idea of hurting him and his family by participating in my brother’s plan.
I never even wanted to be a part of it. I never wanted to be used by him—moved like a puppet just to further his plans that I wanted nothing to do with.
As true as it was, it seemed like an impossible thing to try and explain to Ivan…if he would even bother to listen in the first place. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would even be worth explaining, but regardless of that fact, a part of me wanted that opportunity.
It sat heavily on my shoulders, and while I couldn’t turn around and take it all back, I wished I could. I wished I could’ve found a way to escape Rurik before I could ever be roped into his plans.
Yet, I ended up going from being stuck with my controlling brother to a man who seemed to hate me so completely…a man with more than enough power to do anything he wanted to me.
None of it felt fair.
As tempting as it was to sit around and do nothing about the current situation, I knew that was exactly what Ivan would want me to do. He would want me to just give up. To admit defeat.
But that was the last thing I wanted.
He had the upper hand in the situation, and I wasn't prepared to deny that. Yet, I still had a semblance of hope left—enough to get me up from the bed to investigate.
Pushing off the soft mattress, feeling as a sense of determination overcame me, I immediately went to the windows. They were flanked by long white curtains that, if necessary, could aid my escape. At the very least, I kept it in the back of my mind.
I scoured the windowsills, feeling for locks and latches, but there was nothing. So, I dug my fingers under the ledges of the one and pushed up, only to find pure resistance.
I tried again, putting as much force behind it as I could muster, only to find the window wasn't moving an inch.
With a huff, realizing they were likely locked tight, I hurried into the ensuite to find a smaller window next to the deep tub. I carefully stood on the ledge, using the wall for support while I reached up and tried the same thing.
But my frustration mounted even higher when it didn't move either.
That anger started to burn under my skin all over again, reminding me that Ivan really did have me trapped like a prisoner, and he likely meant to keep me like that for as long as possible. Or at least, until he either grew tired of me or found a more productive use for me. That is, if he didn't just make me disappear like most mafia men did.
Forcing out a breath, I started to feel more delirious as I gravitated towards the windows in the bedroom again, allowing the pieces of my reality to come together.
If the Fokins were wealthy enough to seal up every window in the place, then surely that meant they were also shatter-proof. Which meant I couldn't exactly break through it and hope to ease my way down at least three stories.
Even if I did try, that kind of commotion was bound to alert someone in the house, if not Ivan himself.
As much as I wanted to somehow outsmart him and find a loophole to get me out of there, I couldn't calm my heart down enough to think rationally.
From where I stood, I was completely trapped. Locked away and not even given a chance to break free. I had no idea how long Ivan planned to keep me there, or what he would do with me after the fact. With no way out, I didn't have any choice but to deal with it, and that was enough to bring a fresh wave of panic over me.
Near hyperventilating, I sucked in harsh breaths and moved towards the bed, falling into it while I shut my eyes and silently pleaded with whatever entity out there to offer me some kind of olive branch. Any kind of miracle that would free me from Ivan and whatever twisted ideas he had in his head.
Every moment that passed while I remained in that room all alone served as more of a reminder that I didn't have anyone to help me. I didn't have anyone I could hope would break me out of there.
Like Ivan said, my brother was locked up and couldn't do anything about the situation. But even if he was as free as anyone else, the likelihood of him helping me was slim to none.
Either way, I was on my own, and it was up to me to somehow escape.
But the thought was too daunting, and while I sucked in shaky breaths, I could feel the weight of the day falling on me like the heaviest burden I had ever taken on myself. Frustrated tears burned in my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry, regardless of how terrifying and maddening the whole situation felt.
While every panicked thought raced through my mind at once, and I couldn't will myself to get up again, that drowsiness set in far faster than I expected, and I couldn't fight it long enough to keep my eyes open.
***
I didn't remember falling asleep. For a moment, I didn't even know where I was.
But upon opening my eyes and looking around the room while the lingering sleep ebbed out of my system, it all hit me at once, plaguing me with a rush of fear, anger, and guilt.
Despite apparently sleeping long enough for the sun to rise and leak in through the windows, I hardly felt rested. My whole body ached as if I had just finished working a strenuous job, and I spent all night sleeping on the hard ground despite how that was very far from the truth.
The bed was more comfortable than I wanted to admit. Between the perfect softness of the mattress and the pillows that somehow screamed luxury, along with the silky sheets, the bed was almost heaven-sent—not that I wanted to give Ivan any credit.
He may have been a monster, but I had to admit that he at least had taste.
Still, I felt sleepless even while sleeping on the most comfortable mattress I had ever encountered. Restless.
There were too many unknowns ahead of me, and I hated that. I hated not knowing what he was up to, or how I could at least prepare myself.
His goal was apparently to make me pay for my involvement in everything, and that was far too vague to offer me even a morsel of reassurance.
The quiet click of the door unlocking made me tense at once, shifting to sit up. Immediate fear gripped me at the thought of it being Ivan.
But a small, almost hesitant knock sounded from the other side before the door eventually opened. A woman with cropped brown hair neatly tucked behind her ears poked her head in and glanced in my direction.
I had no idea who she was. I had never seen her before. Despite that, she offered me a small smile and entered the room carrying a tray in her hands.
She only had to take a few steps for me to smell the food beneath the silver lid, and while the situation was quick to make me queasy, the thought of filling my stomach again felt far too tempting.
"Good, you're awake," the woman said gently, mostly closing the door behind herself while she moved through the space. She went with practiced ease, placing the tray on the nightstand before taking the lid off and arranging everything accordingly. "After you eat and get cleaned up, Ivan wants to see you."
His name was enough to make me bristle while I stayed in bed, glancing at the omelet stuffed with fresh veggies and cheese, crisp bacon, and several triangles of golden toast. It looked so appetizing that I had half the mind to forget all about what she said.
He wanted to see me. I had the feeling that was a bad thing.
"Why?" I asked, voice more hoarse than I expected. "...why does he want to see me, I mean?"
The woman, who looked pretty young for being so settled and confident in her job, gave a quiet, thoughtful hum while she cracked the lid on a bottle of orange juice before pouring it into a glass. "He didn't say. I imagine he wants to touch base with you on your...arrangement."
Arrangement. The word felt so far off that the idea pulled a humorless huff from me.
"I'd hardly call it that."
While she wore a similar uniform to that of the guards earlier, the woman looked more understanding. Like she was hearing me out, regardless of Ivan being her boss.
"I suppose you're right. I'll be honest, as a housekeeper, I'm not usually allowed in the fold with this kind of thing. But, I only know he has requested to see you sooner rather than later."
She spoke to me so easily, as if I were an old friend, and it felt weird...but also nice.
Even if her features were a bit plain, something was calming and disarming about her brown eyes. The kindness in her gaze and movements made her look prettier, I thought.
As much as I wanted more information, I knew she was telling the truth. Why would Ivan bother divulging one of his maids in the gritty details?
"I guess I don't have much choice in it, do I?"
The faintest flicker of a smile reached the corners of her lips, and she gave me a decisive nod. "As much as I don't want to say it, that seems to be the case."
Aware that I'd have to face him eventually, despite how I much preferred the idea of staying out of his sight as much as possible at that moment, my stomach twisted at the prospect.
I knew how angry he had been with me the night before, using as many conflicting tactics as he could to confuse me. I didn't want to have to deal with that again...the teasing that came with how closely he talked to me, and the way he'd drop his voice to a silkier tone just to get a rise out of me. How he'd flip a switch and revert to his clipped, cold words meant to cut me in every way possible.
The prospect of even being near him felt like a mountain to climb, but something about the maid's friendly demeanor made me feel at least a little better about it.
"I won't pretend like I know how it feels to be in your place, but if I were you, I wouldn't take too long," she said gently, moving over to the standing wardrobe before opening the two wide doors to show its contents. "There are a few things in here to hold you over until some new items come in. Take your pick."
As much as a part of me didn't want to cooperate in the slightest, favoring the idea of staying in the room, I nodded. She was just so kind right out of the gate despite not knowing me, and the thought of pushing back against her wasn't very appealing.
Glancing at what I could see of the clothes in the wardrobe, a hint of curiosity came over me. "Any idea of what color he likes?"
She seemed almost surprised by my words but considered my question for a moment. "From what I've gathered, he wears darker, masculine colors for himself. But for women, he thinks white and light tones are elegant. Given how the garments mostly reflect that, I don't think it would be too difficult to accomplish that."
She had a point. Most of the tops were either white or soft and warm-toned, like something you'd wear on vacation.
I nodded, thinking about it before I met her gaze again. "By the way...what's your name?"
Remembering herself, she straightened a bit with a slightly bashful smile at the realization that she never told me her name. "I'm Veronica. You'll likely be seeing a lot of me."
Committing her name to memory, I gave her a more muted smile in return. "It's nice to meet someone who hasn't completely lost their mind...it's refreshing."
Despite herself, Veronica chuckled, then carefully began tidying the room. "I'm glad to hear it."
Even if I was still a prisoner in that house, being beckoned to see the man I'd rather avoid like the plague, it was genuinely nice to talk to Veronica. To know I didn't have to feel completely alone.
While she worked, eventually heading into the ensuite to clean, I reached for the plate and dug in, unable to resist it any longer.
All the while I ate, appreciating the taste, I looked at the clothes and considered what Veronica mentioned about Ivan's preference.
...Black it was, then.