11. Rose
Rose
Flexing my hands at my sides, I try to muster up all the courage I need to walk through that door.
It might not be easy, but I have to tell Ilya what’s going on inside my head or I will lose it.
The confines of this prison can only hold me for so long, and I have given him plenty of my time as it is.
Two weeks. Two weeks since I arrived here.
Two weeks since I found out everything that Petar had been planning.
Two weeks since what little life I’d been able to call my own had fallen apart at the seams. When all of this had happened, when I had first discovered Petar cheating on me, I could never in a million years have guessed this was where it would leave me: locked up in the mansion of a beast who seems intent on keeping me under wraps, with no idea when or if I would ever make my escape.
Right now, I’m standing outside Ilya’s office, trying to convince myself to push open that door and step inside.
He has to hear me out. It can’t be legal for him to keep me here against my will, no matter his reasons for treating me like a prisoner in his home.
I have practiced everything that I’m going to say to him, to ensure there is no choice but for him to let me out.
I need to get back to work; hell, I don’t even know if the shop is still open, given that he’s the one who owns it now.
He could have shut it down right then and there and left me and everyone who worked there completely out of a job.
God, how am I going to take care of this child if I don’t have any money?
Inside, I can make out voices, and I realize that I must be interrupting Ilya in the middle of something. I press my ear to the door, trying to hear the conversation happening inside. Perhaps it could give me a few hints as to where his head’s at and allow me to navigate what lies ahead.
"… but all I’m asking is whether you’ve had the opportunity to confirm the pregnancy," Sergei’s voice carefully queries.
My heart skips a beat. Why is he talking about me?
"I don’t need to," Ilya replies bluntly. "I know it’s real."
Relief washes through me at the sound of those words. So, Ilya trusts me, at least on this matter. That has to count for something. Bolstered, I plant my hand against the door and push it open before I can talk myself out of it.
Ilya and Sergei look around at the same moment, both surprised that I’m making my presence known. I toss my hair over one shoulder, looking between them, and muster every bit of my confidence before I speak again.
"Ilya, I need to speak with you."
"I’m in a meeting right now with Sergei," he replies, gesturing to the man before him without skipping a beat. "You’ll have to wait."
I roll my eyes skyward. "I’ve been waiting long enough," I protest. "I’m tired of just sitting around this place, waiting for you to decide what to do with me. I want out!”
Sergei looks to Ilya, as though surprised I would have the nerve to ask such a thing right there in Ilya’s own house. Maybe I am crazy, but honestly, I do not care. Ilya might be a big, scary boss to most people, but I am not the type to back down in the face of any threat.
Even if I can hear the blood rushing in my veins as I wait for him to reply.
"Perhaps I should go," Sergei offers, rising to his feet, but Ilya raises his hand, indicating that he should stay right where he is.
"No need," he replies, not taking his eyes off of me. "If she wants to be part of things, let her. You were saying, Sergei?”
Sergei looks over at me, clearly wishing that he didn’t have to have this conversation in front of me, but he’s not getting a choice.
Ilya is pitting us against each other, practically daring me to argue with him again in front of one of his men.
But if he thinks I will give up just like that, he’s got another thing coming.
"About the pregnancy," Ilya prompts Sergei, as if giving him the go-ahead to discuss the matter.
I toss my hair over one shoulder, crossing my arms over my chest, silently looking Sergei down to tell him that I’m more than willing to hear him out.
"You’ve been so set on the matter of succession," Sergei continues at last, glancing between the two of us warily, "that I thought it sensible to confirm the father of the child. Regardless of what Petar might have told you about his ability to bear children."
I tense. So, Sergei is casting doubt on me now? Talking like Ilya might have reason to second-guess my claims? I narrow my eyes and look at Ilya, who clasps his hands in front of him.
"I know that the child is mine," he replies calmly. "And I don’t need any test to confirm that. Petar is infertile, has been his whole life. And when it comes to matters of succession…"
He looks to me, eyes flicking down briefly towards my belly.
"I choose who takes this business after I’m gone."
Sergei hardly reacts. I eye him for a moment, not sure if I should entirely trust him, but I suppose I already overstepped in interrupting their meeting.
Perhaps better for me to just keep my head down and avoid pissing him off any further.
It’s starting to feel like I made a mistake I couldn’t walk back from.
"I have to take care of the security detail for the night," Sergei replies as he moves towards the door. "Thanks for your time, Ilya."
"Of course," Ilya replies, but I notice a slight coolness to his tone, and he watches Ilya carefully until he is gone. Then, and only then, does he turn his attention to me, his chin lifting slightly as he looks me up and down.
"What is it?”
I feel nerves flood through me. It’s the first time the two of us have been alone together since…
well, since. I’d be lying if I said that our encounter in his office hadn’t been playing on my mind more than it should have been, but at the same time, I have to focus on my freedom.
No matter what good reason I might have to stay, I have a life to get back to.
A life that I couldn’t just turn my back on.
I push the door shut behind me, leaning against it—the very same spot where he brought me to orgasm just a week or so before. I’m sure he’s just as aware of the tension in the air between us, and he gestures for me to take a seat.
"Something to say?" he says.
"I already told you what I have to say," I retort. "I want out. I’m tired of being locked up here like some kind of criminal, and I want to—"
"What you want," he replies, cutting me off calmly, "is not the same as what you need. And what you need right now is to stay where I can keep an eye on you. Somewhere Petar cannot reach you."
I throw my hands in the air, utterly baffled by his stubbornness.
"Don’t you realize how crazy that sounds?" I point out. "I mean—for God’s sake, he’s being held by the police! He’s not exactly a threat to me. And it’s hardly as if he even wanted me when we were together, so I doubt that he’s suddenly going to turn around and decide he wants me back.”
"You don’t know what he’s capable of," Ilya replies, not missing a beat. "Either way, you’re not going to be anywhere I can’t keep watch on you. You’re carrying my child. And I don’t think you’ve fully wrapped your head around just how vulnerable that makes you."
He rises to his feet, closing the distance between us, but this time, he does not reach to touch me.
Thank God, because I don’t know if I’d be able to hold myself together if he did.
Even being in his presence makes my mind run a little slower, and I know I can’t give in.
Can’t let his closeness distract me from what I came here to do.
"Well, I agreed to stay here before," I tell him. "As much as I could agree, I mean, given that you bought my job right from underneath me. But that doesn’t mean that I was okay with it staying this way forever. I have my own home, you know. My own life, and I need to start preparing for this child to come along. I can’t do that while you’ve got me serving a damn life sentence in your guest quarters. You hear me?”
He smirks slightly, but there’s no hint of amusement on his face.
I shift my weight slightly, unsure of where I stand with all of this.
I thought he would understand where I was coming from; he hardly seems like the kind of guy who takes well to being kept under lock and key, held back from the life he wants to live.
But when it comes to me, it seems it’s an entirely different matter, and I have no idea where the hell that leaves me.
Or what the fuck I’m meant to say next.
"I hear you," he replies, eyes glittering with a darkness I can’t quite put into words.
I run a hand through my hair, praying he can’t see the slight pink flush to my cheeks. "So, when are you going to let me out?”
"I’ll think about it. After the baby comes along."
"After the baby comes along?” I explode. "But that’s months away! You can’t seriously expect me to give up my whole life just to—"
"I expect you to do what’s right for you and that child," he retorts hotly. "Our child. And if you won’t handle that yourself…" His lip curls upward. "Then I’ll do it for you."
"I’m going to call the cops," I announce, hands on my hips. "Tell them that you took me under false pretenses and that I want to leave, and now you won’t let me. You really want them poking their noses around here?"
I try my best to sound intimidating, but it’s almost impossible when he’s standing right in front of me, looking totally amused by how desperate I am to take some control back right now.
Nothing gets through to him—nothing comes close.
In this world, he has complete dominion over anything and everything that goes down, and I’m just lucky not to get swept away by the sheer power of it at any given moment.
"Call them," he says.
“What?” I blurt.
"Call them," he replies, making his way back to the desk, sinking into his seat, looking back at me as he locks his hands behind his head. "See what they do. Be my guest."
I part my lips, scanning his face as I try to determine if he’s getting me to call his bluff or if he really means it.
Would he even care if the cops came to this place?
He must have some pretty solid connections within the force to have found out about everything that was happening with Petar the way he did.
Maybe… maybe he has them wrapped around his little finger the way he does everyone else in this place.
His power is hard-won, and it’s not the kind that comes from playing by the rules.
A cold shiver runs down my spine as it suddenly hits me that he might be right, that there might be nothing I can do at all. My entire life, I have thought of the cops as this safe, mitigating force, the worst-case-scenario back-up if something goes so wrong that I can’t handle it myself.
But all this time, I should have known that they don’t run this city. Men like Ilya do. And men like Ilya are used to getting everything in the damn world that they want.
"Fine, I will," I reply, calling his bluff.
His face doesn’t flicker, like he was expecting this answer. "Go ahead."
I glare him down for one more moment, chewing my lip.
But then, I turn on my heel and take off towards my room again.
Okay, so I’ll do it, and then we’ll see where he stands with all of this.
The cops might have been willing to look the other way when he was sliding decent bribes in their direction, but surely they would think better of it when they realized that he was keeping a woman locked up in his mansion with no recourse or hope of escape.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I grab my phone and slam the door shut behind me.
I tap nine-one-one into the keypad and hover my finger over the call button for a moment, trying to muster all the certainty I can that this is the right thing to do.
Just one call, and I could be out of here.
One decent cop making it his mission to check things out and realizing just how off things were here with me, and I would be free.
I tap the button and lift the phone to my ear, pacing to work off some of the excess stress currently lancing through my entire body. I know it’s not good for the baby, but then, neither is being stuck here.
And neither is being under the thumb of a man who might be more powerful than I could ever have imagined.