Chapter 13 Mila
Mila
The silence in this house is going to drive me insane.
I pace my bedroom endlessly. I check my phone, but there are no messages from Alexei or updates on the rescue operation. Just my thoughts spiraling in circles about what happened this afternoon.
My phone sits on the nightstand. I pick it back up and stare at the screen. His words echo in my head like a warning: All communications are monitored.
But he’s out risking his life to save my sister because I got on my knees and begged. Because I let him use me and then listened as he compared me to every other woman in this world.
I sink onto the bed and pull up my contacts list. Anna’s name stares back at me. My best friend. The one person who might understand the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
I hit call before I can talk myself out of it.
She answers on the second ring. “Mila? Oh my God, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Things have been complicated.”
“Your father said you were staying with family friends for safety reasons, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve been MIA.”
I lean back against the headboard and close my eyes. “I’m at Alexei Kozlov’s countryside estate. He’s keeping me here for protection because someone is threatening my family.”
“Alexei Kozlov? The same guy you rejected six months ago?”
“That’s the one.”
“Holy shit, Mila. Are you okay? Is he treating you well?”
I bite my lip and consider how much to tell her. Anna knows about my academic goals and my desire to escape this world, but she doesn’t know about the night at the safe house.
“We slept together,” I reveal. “Three weeks ago. And then today, I—” I cut myself off. Even saying it out loud feels wrong.
“You what?”
“He made me get on my knees to convince him to help rescue Irina. And then afterward, he said I was just like every other woman in this world, using sex to get what I want.”
Anna’s silent for a long moment. “That’s fucked up, Mila. Really fucked up. Please tell me you’re not developing feelings for this asshole.”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling. He’s arrogant and controlling, and he treats me like property. But he also reads French poetry and cooks me dinner and looks at me sometimes like I mean something.”
“Those things don’t cancel out the bad stuff,” Anna cautions. “You know that, right?”
“I know, but it’s more complicated when I’m here and seeing all the sides of him instead of just the criminal everyone talks about.”
“Mila, listen to me. Men like Alexei Kozlov don’t change. They might show you glimpses of something better, but at their core, they’re still dangerous and controlling. You need to protect yourself.”
“I am.”
“Are you? Because it sounds like you’re falling for your captor.”
The accusation makes something twist in my stomach. “I’m not falling for him; I’m just trying to survive until I can get back to my life.”
“Good,” she replies. “Keep it that way. And when this is over, you call me immediately so we can get you somewhere safe.”
“I will. I promise.”
We talk for a few more minutes about her work at the security firm, mutual friends, and anything except the fact that I’m trapped in a countryside estate with a man who makes me feel things I shouldn’t.
When we hang up, I stare at my phone and think about what she said. Men like Alexei don’t change. The warning should comfort me, reminding me why getting involved with him is dangerous.
Instead, it just makes me sad.
I pull up my messages and type to Anna.
You’re right about everything, but I can’t stop thinking about him and how he made me feel.
God, Anna, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him.
Even now, after everything he said today, I’m lying here remembering how good his cock felt in my mouth.
How he tasted. The sounds he made when he came.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Three seconds later, my phone vibrates with a response.
Interesting message, Zaika. Though I’m curious why you’re thinking about my cock when you claimed this afternoon meant nothing.
My body goes cold. Then hot. Then cold again.
Oh no.
I sent that text to Alexei instead of Anna.
I scramble to type a response. That wasn’t meant for you. I was texting my friend and accidentally—
His reply comes before I finish. You like how I taste, do you?
This is mortifying. Please delete that message and forget you saw it.
Not a chance. In fact, I think we should discuss what you’ve been thinking about.
I’m not discussing anything with you. You made your opinion of me clear this afternoon.
I’m sitting in a vehicle two hours away from you, and all I can think about is that you’re lying in bed thinking about me.
I should stop responding, turn off my phone, and pretend this never happened. But my fingers move before my brain catches up.
So what if I am?
Tell me what you’re wearing.
That’s none of your business.
Humor me, Mila. What are you wearing right now?
I look down at my oversized T-shirt and underwear. One of your shirts and nothing else.
Jesus. You’re killing me. Are you touching yourself?
No.
Liar. I bet you’re wet right now just from talking to me.
Heat crawls up the back of my neck, and my nipples harden. He’s right. God help me, he’s right.
You’re very arrogant.
And you’re very turned on. Slip your hand between your legs and tell me if I’m wrong.
I shouldn’t do it. This is insane. We’re having this conversation while he’s supposedly planning a rescue operation for my sister.
But I do it anyway. Slide my hand down my stomach and under the waistband of my underwear. My fingers meet wetness that proves him right.
Well?
You’re not wrong.
Touch yourself while I tell you what I’m going to do to you when I get back. First, I’m going to slowly strip that shirt off you and make you stand there while I look at every inch of your body. Then, I’m going to lay you down on my bed and taste you until you’re begging me to stop.
My breath catches. I press my thighs together, but it only makes the ache worse.
Are you touching yourself, Mila?
I draw my bottom lip between my teeth as I type.
Yes.
Good girl. Circle your clit. Slowly, like my tongue would do it.
I have no fucking idea why, but I follow his instructions. My fingers move in tiny circles over the little bundle of nerves, making me gasp.
After I make you come with my mouth, I’m going to fuck you. No rushing. No holding back. I’m going to take my time and make sure you feel every inch of me.
Stop.
Stop what? Stop telling you how badly I want to be inside you? How I’ve been thinking about it for three weeks? How I can’t get the memory of your tight pussy out of my head?
This is inappropriate. You’re supposed to be rescuing my sister.
The team has it handled. I’m just sitting here waiting. Might as well make good use of the time by making you come over the phone. Now, slip a finger inside yourself. Tell me how wet you are.
I shouldn’t. This is wrong on so many levels, but I do it anyway, sliding one finger inside and moaning at how easily it goes.
Very wet.
Add another finger. Fuck yourself with them while you imagine it’s my cock.
I add a second finger and start moving them in and out while my thumb circles my clit. The combination makes me whimper.
Are you making those pretty sounds for me, Zaika?
Yes.
Good. Because when I get back, I want to hear you scream my name while I fuck you so hard you forget every cruel thing I said today.
You can’t just erase what you said with dirty talk.
I’m not trying to erase it. I’m trying to show you that whatever I said this afternoon, it doesn’t change how badly I want you. How much I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into my life.
The admission shouldn’t matter, but it does. God help me, it does.
I’m close.
Already? We’ve barely started.
Stop teasing me.
Oh, I’m going to tease you until you’re dripping. Until you can’t think about anything except how good it’s going to feel when I’m finally inside you again.
Alexei, please.
Please what? Tell me what you need.
I need to come.
Then come for me. Right now. Imagine it’s my fingers inside you. My mouth on your clit. My cock stretching you open.
The words push me over. My back arches off the bed as I come. Hard. Waves of pleasure crash through me while I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
When I finally come back to myself, my phone is buzzing with another message.
Did you come?
Yes.
Good. Now I need you to know something. What I said this afternoon was cruel and wrong. You’re not like other women; you’re nothing like them. And when I get back, I’m going to spend hours proving that to you.
I stare at the message and try to figure out what game he’s playing. Before I can respond, another text comes through, this one with a much less indecent tone.
The rescue was successful. Irina and the baby are safe.
Relief floods through me so suddenly that I nearly drop my phone.
Really? They’re okay?
They’re shaken but unharmed. We’re transporting them to a secure medical facility for evaluation.
I sit up straight, suddenly more alert than I have been all night.
Thank God. Thank you, Alexei. Thank you for keeping your promise.
Always. But there’s a complication.
My stomach drops. What kind of complication?
The operation attracted law enforcement attention. Not enough to compromise anything, but enough that I need to stay away from the estate for a few days and let things cool down before I return.
How long?
Three days, maybe four. I’ll have guards watching the property and monitoring all access points. You’ll be safe, but I can’t come back until I’m certain there’s no surveillance on my movements.
Okay. I understand.
Get some sleep, Zaika. And Mila?
What?
Next time you want to think about my cock, send the message to me on purpose instead of by accident.
Despite everything, I smile.
Goodnight, Alexei.
Goodnight, Mila.
I set my phone on the nightstand and stare at the ceiling. My body is still thrumming with aftershocks from the orgasm. My mind spins with everything that just happened.
Irina is safe. That’s what matters, not the sexting or the way my body responds to Alexei, even when my brain knows better. My sister and nephew are alive.
Three days without him here will give me time to clear my head. I won’t have to see his face or hear his voice or deal with the constant push and pull between wanting him and hating him.
Maybe the distance will help. Maybe without him here, I can think clearly about what the hell I’m doing.
Or maybe I’m just lying to myself again.