Chapter 9 - Avraam
Finding Ruslana downstairs was a complete shock. I heard her tantrum, her screaming and shouting, but I ignored it because I knew it was some tactic to get to me go into her room so that she could lure more information out of me.
But when I heard movement in the house, I had to go and see what the hell was going on.
I can’t believe she got out of those cuffs. The inescapable cuffs.
But she tore her own skin to do it.
Seeing her wrist, covered in bruises, raw and bleeding—it made me wince in pain myself.
Why would she hurt herself like that just to get out into the house, where she must surely know she cannot escape from? Why would that be worth it?
I kneel down and pull the first aid kit from the cabinet beneath my bathroom basin.
Heading back into my room, I crouch in front of Ruslana. She hasn’t moved. Her eyes are wide with fear. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.
It breaks me to see her like this and no matter how hard I try to tell myself that she is nothing more than a pawn in my plan—my heart is aching at the sight of her pain.
“Why did you do this? This is such a stupid move,” I mutter angrily.
I grab her arm and tug her wrist forward. She winces. I grit my teeth, telling myself to be more gentle. I feel angry with myself though, for letting this happen to her, and now I’m taking it out on her, which isn’t fair.
I take a slow breath and move more gently.
First, I clean the open wounds and wipe away the blood with sterile gauze. Then I gently put disinfectant cream over her raw skin and slowly, carefully, I wrap her wrist in a crisp white bandage, layer by layer—
“Don’t take this off Ruslana. Do I make myself clear?”
I stare into her eyes as I speak, watching her, trying to read her.
“Please—Avraam—please don’t put me back in there.”
“You are a prisoner. Where the hell else would I put you?” I snap.
“Please—“ She bursts into tears, “It’s so quiet. It’s so lonely—I can’t—“ her words choke away as tears take over and I realize that she has been alone, day in and day out since the night I walked out of her room. I have been avoiding her because I can’t control myself around her—and it isn’t fair.
No one does well in solitary confinement, and she is slowly losing her mind. It’s affecting her mental wellbeing. I’m such a fucking asshole.
I left her alone because I felt the attraction I had towards her and I wanted to stop that from going anywhere. But my own weakness has caused her mental distress.
Fuck.
My heart aches.
Guilt floods me.
I finish wrapping the bandage around her wrist and secure it in place with some tape. Then I look up at her, her wide-eyed stare, full of fear and sadness.
She was so desperate not to be alone that she was willing to do this to herself.
Running my thumb over the bandaged wounds, I sigh.
“You will be staying in my room tonight. Only so that I can keep an eye on you.”
And because I feel terrible about what I’ve done to you.
“Get into bed,” I demand, standing up and stepping back to give her space.
I can see the relief in her eyes, the small smile that touches her lips.
I climb into bed next to her, still thinking about the lengths she was willing to go to escape the handcuffs.
After a long while of lying in silence, waiting for her to start a fight or to start throwing random comments around—yet, she is completely silent, seemingly content to just lie there—I finally ask the question burning on my tongue.
“Why did you hurt yourself like that? You were comfortable in that room—was it just because you were alone?”
She takes a soft breath, letting it out slowly before she answers.
“I panicked. I—back home I struggled because my brothers suffocated me with security. I couldn’t move freely, I couldn’t do what I wanted. And then—I just panicked when I realized I was even more suffocated here. My entire life I have been trapped and it got to be too much. I don’t want to be alone, controlled by other people.”
I shift slightly closer to her on the bed.
“Your brothers were controlling? So, you were unhappy with them?”
“I love my family. But the way they treated me made me feel like a prisoner. The day you caught me, I snuck out. I got away from my guards and went out on my own without them knowing. I had to experience just that small moment of freedom—,“ she sighs, heavily burdened.
I clench my jaw. I feel like I am asking for trouble by saying what I am about to say—but I have to do it.
“Ruslana—I will give you an option. You can sleep in my room at night if you promise not to try and escape anymore. I won’t handcuff you, but you have to obey me. If you can’t do that then I will return you to the other room.”
I wait, feeling her shift in the bed.
“Please, can’t you rather just let me go, Avraam? Please, I don’t want to be locked up like an animal—controlled and—”
“No,” I snarl angrily. “I gave you the choice. You know your options. Make up your mind and tell me what you have decided in the morning. Right now, go to sleep. I don’t want to hear another word.”
She can sense and hear my anger, so she falls silent.
I reach forward, wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her right up against my chest so that her back is curved against me. I am not letting her go. She is in my room, unsecured, and I will make sure she doesn’t get away.
The heat of her body seeps into me and I push those teasing thoughts from my mind.
I sleep restlessly, hyper-aware of her there with me. My dreams plagued by images of her, like a seductive lure, trying to hook me in.
I wake up, relieved to find her still next to me but bothered by how it makes me feel.
She is still sleeping so, I gently move away from her, careful not to wake her. Hurrying around my own room, I get dressed and ready for the day and leave her in my bed, forcing myself not to admire the way her leg is out from beneath the blankets, long slender and beautiful—stretched across my bed. Her face so peaceful against my pillow.
I remember why I was trying to avoid her. And it’s still very much there—the attraction—the desire. But I will be stronger than that.
***
It is late afternoon and business has been demanding.
The day has been really busy and now I am sitting in a meeting with my security forces, discussing the week ahead and our plans.
“Has anyone heard anything about the moves we made against the Kuznetsov warehouse—anyone talking about it on the streets?” I ask, looking around the room.
“No one has linked it to you yet, sir. But they are furious,” Dex comments.
“That’s good. We want them on their toes and distracted.”
“Royce, do you have anything to report?”
“Sir, I was thinking about the girl,” he pauses for a moment.
“What about her?” I ask cautiously. Why is he thinking about her at all? She is not for him to think about.
“She must be a burden to you. I thought that perhaps if I took her off your hands, I could watch over her myself and then you would have your time freed.”
I watch his expression and his body language.
Why would he offer this? Somehow, whenever I speak to Royce, he asks about her or makes this kind of suggestion.
Why is he so keen to watch over her himself?
“You want to watch her? Why?”
“Uh—to make things easier for you,” he answers quickly, but his eyes are averted.
It annoys the hell out of me that he wants to take her from me.
I want to tell him to mind his own fucking business and focus on the job I tell him to do instead of worrying about Ruslana. But instead, I bite back my words and clench my jaw.
“The girl is fine where she is. There is no need for you to—“
“Sir, I’m sure you have much better things to worry about and if I could just take her off your hands—“
“Royce. I said no,” I snarl at him, even more agitated that he is still pushing for her.
Is it me that’s overreacting in this situation?
Why would I feel so annoyed when he was just offering to help?
But was it just a normal offer or was there some undercurrent to it that spiked my nerves?
It must be me.
I’m too protective over her. I think about her too much and it’s starting to effect the way I deal with my employees even.
“Thank you, for the offer, Royce. But the girl is no problem where she is. I have it under control.”
He nods, incredibly tight-lipped after having been called out in front of the other guys. I still feel angry towards him that he was even thinking about spending time with her or interacting with her at all.
I’m being completely ridiculous.
Ending the meeting early because I need air—and to be away from Royce—I climb into my car and head home.
It’s getting dark outside. I’m eager to get home and see what Ruslana is up to. Today is the first day that I have left her free to roam the mansion and my thoughts were on her all day—worried about how it was going and if she was trying to escape. But I know she can’t. There is no way for her to get outside.
I walk up the stairs towards the front door.
“Good evening, sir,” the security guard positioned outside greets me.
I nod in response.
The front door swings open and I glance around inside. I don’t know what I expected to happen. I kind of thought she might come flying out at me, diving for the open door.
I chuckle at the thought.
Inside the house, I find her curled up on the sofa in the living room, watching a series.
“Hello, Ruslana.”
She looks at me, smiles tightly and says hello too.
“How was your day?” I ask, walking into the living room and standing next to the sofa. She pushes mute and shifts her position. “It was alright, thank you. How was yours?”
“Long. I’m hungry. Do you want to join me for dinner?”
Her eyes flare, lighting up at the idea. I suppress the smile I feel inside.
I like the fact that she wants to have dinner with me.
“Yes, please,” she says sweetly.
I still need to be careful around her.
But eating dinner together won’t cause any harm. And it will give her a little company, which I think she needs.
We don’t say much, sitting together at the table. It’s awkward for a number of reasons. The main one being that I find her so attractive and I can’t stop thinking about all the things I would love to do to her.
The other reason being that I’m enjoying her company far too much. I never considered that I would want someone around. But having her here at the dinner table with me is a stark reminder of what loneliness feels like.
She is a welcomed distraction from the long day I’ve had at work and the projects I have to deal with tomorrow.
“Did you find the library?” I ask, just trying to make conversation with her.
“I did,” she smiles a wide, gorgeous smile that lights her entire face. “I started reading a really good book. Do you read?”
“I love reading, although I admit that I haven’t had much time for it lately.”
“I think you should always make time for the things you love. Otherwise, what is the point of anything?” she grins, pushing her food around her plate, looking relaxed and possibly even happy for the first time since she arrived here.
I shouldn’t be delusional, though. I know her primary goal is to escape. So while I gift her this freedom, and this time with me, I can’t let her manipulate me or take advantage of any of it.