Chapter 13
Vivian
A prisoner.
It was much more evident how I ranked in his world when I’d been driven out of the city, passing by all the places I’d frequented, more that I’d always wanted to go to.
Quaint bookstores where books were crammed into every nook and cranny, true gems found if you searched long and hard enough.
Art galleries where the finest artists displayed their talent under soft lighting while flutes of champagne were offered to potential clients.
High fashion designer stores where this year’s Paris fashion week was displayed as a temptation for women with no financial means of obtaining such beauty. Restaurants that were struggling to find their place in a city filled with at least two eateries a block.
Kinky clubs where I could indulge in the obvious darkness existing in my core.
I’d never found the time.
Always working.
Dedicated, I’d been called.
Hard working, my supervisor had written on my last review.
An incredible inspiration to the medical field. The moment a professor who I’d thought hated me had made the statement in front of the other students, I’d been floored for the first time in my life.
While Emily was a good friend and worked the same crazy hours, even she’d called me one sided, incapable of enjoying myself for a single night let alone my life.
If only any of them or the others around me had any idea why I kept my nose to the grindstone.
Fear of the alternative. For whatever reason, my chosen profession was treated with reverence in my family, allowing me to bypass some of the usual atrocities normally required given the family I’d grown up in.
I’d made certain in every aspect of my education and subsequent work history never to provide even a single reason to be stripped of everything that made my life worth living.
In my mind, I’d succeeded. With my sister’s marriage, I’d breathed a sigh of relief that she’d been the one to carry out the family tradition, fulfilling her daughterly duties.
I’d feel guilty as hell had I not seen how much in love she’d become. She was one of the lucky ones. Then again, for the ugly thoughts I’d had when being told of her engagement, I should feel terrible. The fact I still didn’t was a telling flaw in my DNA.
I was exactly like everyone else in my family.
Selfish.
Heartless.
When did I slide into my cruel phase like everyone else except my beautiful sister?
I’d place my cousin Kathleen in the mix had I not continued to be angry with her. In all the craziness, she’d left me a message, sharing the joy of being on a Mediterranean cruise with the man of the hour, a true billionaire.
I fisted the beer bottle as I headed for the house, hating both myself and the man who I knew was following closely behind. Kirill certainly had no intention of allowing me out of his sight.
I’d been such a fool, but my admittance meant nothing. After being captured and dragged into a neighborhood I knew well, the likelihood of him discovering my full identity had tripled.
He was closer behind than I’d realized and it seemed as if his hot breath was tickling the nape of my neck. With my nerves on edge, I rubbed my skin in a mindless way, eventually using my nails until I was able to feel pain.
“The door is already unlocked. Go ahead inside.” His voice was even more authoritative, but as always with the man, there was such amusement in his tone. Nothing seemed to rattle him.
With one exception. Me.
That didn’t make me feel any better because men in his position who developed obsessions were considered the most dangerous of all.
There was no reason to feel as if the moment I walked inside the house I might never leave, but the sensation was real.
The fear as well. But I did as he asked, opening the door and heading inside.
Every step exacerbated the taut feeling in my stomach, a tension that had only somewhat to do with him.
Why did I feel as if I’d been dropped into the middle of a savage game?
The sight of the interior caught me off guard and I burst into laughter. All other thoughts were driven aside. “Oh, my God. Really? This is very… unusual.”
Seeing every piece of furniture covered in a sheet was so unexpected, we both laughed. He moved further into the room and as he closed his eyes, the Russian words spouted weren’t ones of happiness. “Damn it. The house was supposed to be ready for occupancy.”
“You bought a furnished house and they forgot to remove the ghostly coverings?”
His entire face was pinched and with the heavy clench of his jaw, I was certain his teeth would hurt later. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“You mean I wasn’t supposed to happen. Right?” He flicked a strange look in my direction. “You know, given you’re a man who usually has everything under control, when anything is out of whack, you can’t handle it.”
His dichotomy of emotions was what made him so sinfully attractive. That was becoming an issue for me, perhaps for both of us. I continued laughing while he grew even more frustrated.
“I demand order.”
“Order? These are sheets to protect the furniture. That’s it. Come on. Use some elbow grease and let’s get them off and folded. Can you do that?” While I was waiting for him to answer, I took a few sips of my beer.
“I can call someone to do it.”
“Are you kidding me? Let me guess. You live in a lap of luxury where you have hired help to do everything from turn down your bed to getting your jammies warm for you. And I assume they do all your shopping and cleaning. Do they provide foot massages too or perhaps wash your back or other… places on your body?” The drop of my gaze to the thick bulge the scrubs couldn’t hide wasn’t my intention, but I couldn’t help myself.
Kirill absolutely brought out the worst in me. Damn him.
I licked my lips before pulling the bottle to them to try to distract myself. Why did he find the need to walk closer? I’d already been bombarded with one too many images of his nearly naked body after the storage room.
Finally, the man chuckled. “You seem to think you know me so well.”
“Maybe better than you realize.”
“You’re wrong about a few things.”
“Like what?”
“For one, I don’t wear pajamas.”
It felt as if the ice was broken, the mood shifting back to where he’d been before. He was far too charming and he knew the effect his casually tossed out phrases had on me, using his good looks to his benefit.
He was incredibly handsome, especially when floating the image of a hot bod doctor in the scrubs.
But the flash of anger had been real. He didn’t do well in situations that he couldn’t one hundred percent control.
While I had no desire to stay here no matter his accusation that my body had betrayed me, I also didn’t desire to hang out with sheets covering everything.
After taking another manly swig of my beer, I set my bottle on a table and got to work. Who took the time any longer to cover every piece of furniture, especially in a house of this size?
It was almost fun in ripping them off piece after piece. Given the look of the house, I’d expected the furniture to be classic in design, artistic yet completely uncomfortable pieces.
I was pleasantly surprised, the rich leather and textured chairs lush and inviting. Everything had a modern feel, including the light fixtures.
While the colors were somewhat muted, the former owners had made up for that with the wild splash of vivid hues on the walls.
In every room.
Walls were red or purple, emerald or sapphire. There were even iridescent colors in one of the bathrooms. Completely unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
Passionate.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
The only room that was whitewashed in literal terms was the kitchen. Everything was graphite with white cabinets, the appliances gleaming in the LED lights while stark in contrast to the rest of the house. The word sterile came to mind.
Except for one wall near the oversized island. Crimson, the color of fresh blood, and the painting? The size was at least five by four feet, and the artistry was bold in design, yet the scene was nothing that should be allowed in front of children.
Every piece of art in the house had a theme.
Bondage.
Discipline.
While I was drawn to the primal nature of the selections, what struck me harder than anything was how the art made me feel inside. Awakened. In awe. Uncontrollable.
I stood in the kitchen for longer than was necessary, staring at the picture of a woman in leather restraints.
While it was obvious she was naked, the artist had done a beautiful job of hiding her anatomy.
She was kneeling in front of a man in a mask.
In his hand was a whip. He has his hand on her head and the look on her face was… serene.
“Who were these people?” My question was meant to be rhetorical but as usual, I couldn’t seem to completely get away with anything. His presence was electric.
“People who understood that often pain is the ultimate in pleasure.”
Shifting, I offered him a heated look. “Not this girl. But it’s your house. Not mine. Get back to work. We have a few more rooms to do.”
Without thinking, I smacked him on the stomach before walking by, and he acted as if I’d caused him pain. What I realized as I passed was how normal it seemed being with him when there should be nothing about what had occurred that was even remotely normal.
“You’re a slavedriver.”
“I am. Something for you to keep in mind.” When I was around him, even in the same room, I was nervous. Enough so even now my mouth and throat were dry. I also continually tingled, and that wasn’t in my best interest in trying to determine what I could do to convince him to let me go.