12. Rose
Rose
"Thank you for your time, officer," Ilya remarks, shaking the hand of the police officer who came to the mansion to attend to my call. With my arms crossed over my chest, I glare at the two of them, wondering what the hell it’ll take for anyone to start taking me seriously.
Because… because I just can’t figure this out.
I called the police, told them that a man was holding me against my will.
They started off battle-ready, but the more I told them, the less enthused they acted about my rescue.
By the time I admitted that I had gone with Ilya of my own accord, that he was keeping me in relative luxury, and that he had encouraged me to call them, they seemed much more indifferent than they had before, but they still agreed to send someone out to meet with the two of us and figure out how to move forward.
And it is that officer who stands in the doorway of the mansion right now, shaking hands with Ilya like the two of them are old friends.
I want to scream—can’t he see that there’s more going on here than he might know?
Or does he just not care? From the second the car drew up outside the gates, I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to get through to them.
Ilya seems mildly amused by the entire fiasco.
As soon as he told me to go ahead and call the cops, I should have known that I wouldn’t get anything out of this.
He’s not the kind of man who’s going to stand back and allow someone to do something that might harm him or his business—I should know that by now.
And yet, foolishly, I let myself believe that there might be a hope in hell of getting out of this mess, even if the walls seem to have closed even more tightly around me as a result.
"Yes, thanks for your time," I mutter, staring at the ground, not wanting to be entirely left out of this conversation.
I’d noticed the officer conversing with Ilya exchange serious looks with him as he no doubt recounted everything that I had told them over the phone—that he was keeping me here against my will, that I wanted out, that I was going to do whatever it took to leave this place behind.
I had half-expected to see money changing hands, but I guess when your influence stretches as far as Ilya’s does, you don’t need anything as gauche as cash to make your point.
"And if you need anything else," the officer—what is his name? He didn’t even bother to introduce himself to me—tells Ilya, "you be sure to tell me, alright? Anything we can do to help."
I almost want to wave my hands in front of his face, remind him that I am the one who called for help in the first place, but I doubt it would matter.
He has inspected the mansion, been shown my quarters, the open lock on the door, my phone and charger, and decided that I could have escaped if I wanted to.
Since I’m not being kept chained to the wall in some dungeon, that counts as freedom for him, or at least good enough.
"And what if I need you?" I demand, taking a step forward, forcing the man to finally engage with me. I stare at him, eyebrows raised, insisting that I get some kind of answer.
His shoulders sag slightly, as though he doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of Ilya, knowing that any sign of siding with me will only hurt his chances to stay on the man’s good side.
"Then you better have good evidence for what you need from me," he shoots back. "Instead of wasting police time with these calls for no good reason."
I part my lips, ready to argue with him, but before I can, he nods to Ilya and makes for the door. Just as quickly as he arrived, he is gone. I listen to the car crunching up the gravel driveway outside until it fades into the distance. I turn back to Ilya, my mouth set in a hard line.
"I bet you’re pleased with yourself," I hiss.
"I told you there was no point," he replies calmly. "Back to your room—now. I have things I need to take care of."
I stand my ground. The least I can do is not make this easy for him, as much as he apparently wants to make me suffer for having dared stand against him.
"I’m not going anywhere."
He turns his gaze to me slowly, looking me up and down. "I thought you would have learned your lesson by now, Rose."
His voice is cool, collected, but there is an edge to it that I know is meant to be a warning. Well, he might think he can intimidate me, but I’m not that easily convinced. I have already called the cops, shown myself capable of taking a stand against him. Does he think it ends here?
"No,” I grit out. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me when I can leave."
"I already did," he growls, taking a step towards me and sliding his hand to my arm. His grip is not firm, but insistent, like he’s intent on getting his point across.
"We can discuss the possibility of you leaving when the baby is born.
For now, you live under my roof. You play by my rules. Got it?"
I don’t move a muscle. "I’m not playing by anyone’s rules," I snap. "You’re going to let me out of here, or I’m going to—”
"Going to what?" he asks hotly, shifting closer, so close now that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.
Instantly, I’m thrown back to the way he touched me in his office. My heart flips, but I stand my ground, reminding myself of what I’m up against here.
"I’m going to find some other way to get out of here. And this time, I won’t tell you about it first."
The corner of his mouth tugs up into a smile, my attempts at intimidation falling on deaf ears. "I’ve been threatened by far more dangerous people than you, Rose," he reminds me. "Now. Your room. Like I told you."
This time, he takes it upon himself to steer me, guiding me away from the door and back down the corridor that has served as the entryway to my luxurious cell since the moment I got here.
A creeping dread snakes up the back of my neck as I wonder just what kind of trouble I might have brought on myself, threatening him like that.
Would he hold it against me, make me pay for it somewhere down the line?
Hard to believe that he would just let it go after everything that had happened.
But then, Ilya is constantly surprising me, and maybe there’s more mercy there than I gave him credit for.
I hardly have time to linger on that thought before we arrive back at my room. He unlocks the door and guides me inside. The walls feel smaller than they did the last time I set foot in here, as though the place has narrowed since I left this morning.
"You’re just going to leave me locked up here?" I demand as he moves to the door again. I know it’s crazy, but I don’t want to be alone right now, not abandoned with my thoughts. I’ll have no choice but to contend with the failure my plan turned out to be.
He pauses in the doorway before he looks back over at me, his eyes dark. "I’m going to do whatever I have to do to keep you and that baby safe."
"You’re not keeping me safe, you’re keeping me imprisoned," I shoot back. "I only came here because I thought this would last for a few days at most, and it’s been weeks with no sign that you’re going to let up."
"You keep looking for those signs," he replies. "You’re never going to find them. I’m just doing what I need to do. And you can play at calling the cops and making a scene, but I have everyone in this city where I want them."
His gaze sweeps up and down me.
"Including you."
I stand there in my bedroom, not taking my eyes off him, not granting him a moment of reprieve. If he wants to talk to me like this, if he wants to control me like this, then he’ll have to deal with me pushing back against his rules.
"You don't get to make that kind of call," I say.
"I already have."
He turns to move towards the door, and suddenly, I loathe the thought of being alone right now.
I know that it doesn't matter, that it won't change things whether he goes back to his office or not, but I don't care.
I need him here, need someone here, to salve that feeling of aching loneliness that has rushed through me since the very first moment I was dumped here.
"You—you're just going to leave?"
He pauses in the doorway, not looking back at me. For a moment, I’m afraid that I’ve gone too far, and I press my lips together, half-wishing I could take it back. But then, slowly, he shifts, turning to face me.
"Why?" he replies, voice steady. "You think I should stay?"
"I think—I don't—I mean, the least you can do is keep me company while I'm here, isn't it?" I demand, trying to make my voice sound neutral, though I am sure it reads as anything but.
He smirks slightly, eyebrow cocking. "Keep you company, huh?" he remarks. "I thought you hated me. Thought you saw me as your captor."
"I do," I snap back. "But that doesn't mean I want to be alone."
He pushes the door shut behind him. His eyes don't move from mine as he makes his way across the floor towards me, closing the distance between us with ease.
"You need to learn something, Rose," he warns me as he lifts his hand to my cheek. He grazes the back of his palm down my skin, and I shiver, a rush of heat flooding to the very spot where he touched me.
"And what's that?"
"That you don't make the rules here. I do."
Before I can reply, he grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me in, kissing me so hard that it knocks the breath from my lungs. I reach for him, trying to steady myself against him, but he pins my arms at my sides.
"No," he growls against my lips. "I've been understanding enough. You need to learn your lesson."