5. Sienna #2
“It was my job to know everything about you so I could make you mine,” he says factually.
A liquid warmth spreads between my legs, and I divert my gaze from his, ashamed by the way my body reacts to that declaration.
I really am losing my mind. I shouldn't find it attractive in any way when he says things like that, especially when it's not really about me but the paycheck he most likely gets at the end of this.
Then he casually says, “You won't have to worry about them anymore. ”
My mouth goes dry as I ask, “What do you mean by that?”
“I doubt you want the specifics.” He steps closer and lifts his hand slowly, cautiously. I gasp when he rubs his thumb against my bottom lip, as if mesmerized. “People often want what they can't have. Let's just say those men will never be a threat to you again.”
I find myself entranced by his forest-green eyes, which are so bright compared to the harsh features of his face and the tattoos that skate up his neck.
I’ve yet to get a good look at those tattoos, but I still believe they’re of snakes.
I wonder what else is beneath the tight black shirt. Is he completely covered in ink?
I should recoil from his touch; that’s what logic screams, but every time I’m in a room with him, I’m tormented by being sucked in by a mixture of defiance and curiosity.
“And you? Are you a threat to me?” I'm surprised by the earnest tone of my voice. The answer is obvious, and I know what he’ll say before he says it.
“I'm not someone you want to be caught up with, mishka .” He leans in, and my body freezes when he begins to nuzzle into my neck. I know I should step away, but I can’t.
“Your scent is enticing, but it's this mouth of yours that will get you into trouble. You would be wise to keep me furthest away.”
My legs go weak, and I try to convince myself it's from the lack of eating over the last few days, refusing to acknowledge any sway this man has over me. Then I feel something cold slide into my hand. When he steps away, I realize he’s given me the phone.
“I will give you five minutes to call one person. This is a private number, and it cannot be tracked. You are not to mention your situation in any way. Five minutes is all you get. And if you betray me, I will never show such kindness again. I will make your life a living hell, mishka .”
I’m shocked that he's permitting me even this small privilege.
“What bargain do I have to make with the devil for this?” I ask on a harsh breath, bringing the phone to my chest, my manicured fingers curling around it like it's my salvation.
“You'll eat, mishka. Whatever I choose to feed you, and without complaint.”
I swallow. Hard. “Done,” I agree quietly, bringing my pinkie up.
His eyebrows dip in confusion as he looks at my finger.
“It's a pinkie promise,” I say. I doubt this man, who looks to be in his mid-thirties, even knows what it is.
And it's a gamble, showing him any hint of vulnerability.
But I hope the one skill I've truly depended on—making people like me—will continue to serve me here.
I don't particularly want his attention, but I would much rather him see me as a person than a target .
Slowly, his rough, callused hand raises, and he curls his finger around mine.
“You negotiate and make deals in strange ways,” he says.
“You should try it sometime, instead of immediately shooting somebody in the head,” I say sarcastically, although the humor is lacking because it's not funny at all.
Yet a dark chuckle escapes him, startling me. I didn’t think he was even capable of such a thing. “If I were to try that in my line of work, mishka , my pinkie would be severed,” he tells me as he retracts his finger. I immediately divert my gaze to the phone with the uncomfortable mental imagery.
Who do I call? I don't care to speak to my manager, because in hindsight, after this experience, work is the last thing on my mind. Though I'm sure she's pissed off that I hadn’t replied to any of her propositions before being kidnapped.
My heart squeezes when I think of my father and how much I want to talk to him. And although he often makes time for me, he can't always pick up the phone, and I don't want to waste this opportunity.
I think of my friends and those who I'm closest to. Lily has always been the calm, whereas Romi is more of a storm. Ara has just had a baby, and I’m not sure if I’m willing to speak with her or Elanee since it’s their husbands that this group seem most interested in.
Truth be told, I know if I talk to Lily, she'll know something’s up, and I'll probably break apart simply by hearing her soothing voice.
Right now, to get me through this, I choose to call Romi. She's never given a fuck what people think, and has always put men in their place. I've often admired her for that.
Nikolai returns to his seat in the corner of the room. The distance provides a false sense of security since I know he could be at my side in less than a second. I didn’t expect him to grant me complete privacy, so I pretend like he's not there.
The phone rings, and just when I think she’s not going to pick up, my heart sinking, she does.
“Romi?”
“Hey, where have you been? I've been texting you.”
It takes a moment for me to speak again as a lump forms in my throat and I push back the tears. “I know, it's been crazy. Some asshole stole my phone,” I tell her as I shoot a pointed look at Nikolai. “But I'm perfectly fine.”
Romi is silent for a moment, then she says, “Hmm. Are you sure you're okay? Need me to come and liven up the British social circles for you a little?”
I can't help but laugh, and it relieves some of the tension I've been holding. “I mean, you certainly do know how to party.” I wipe away a few tears that spring in my eyes. “But I've actually decided to have a little break from the partying just to try to sort my head out. ”
“Is everything okay? Does this have to do with your dipshit ex? Is he making your life hell? Because, I swear, I'll come over there and kick his ass.”
Another laugh escapes, and although Nikolai is watching me so intently that it's unnerving, I ignore him, placing my feet and legs beneath the blanket, getting comfy. I pick up the container of food and the chopsticks and then begin eating.
I say around a mouthful, “He's the least of my worries and completely in the rearview mirror.”