Chapter 11 - Sera
SERA
Ican’t decide which is worse: that Alik found me like that, bleeding and shivering and close to catatonic on his balcony, or that I had to explain how I got there.
I’m starting to lose count of how many times he’s come to my rescue, and I hate how weak it makes me look. I hate how weak I actually am.
Cazzo! I increase the speed on the treadmill, forcing my legs to move faster. My muscles burn, sweat sluicing down my spine and soaking my top. My heartbeat is erratic but I’m not going to let that stop me.
The only upside of continuously humiliating myself in front of that man is that he’s taken pity on me.
I don’t have to stay locked in the bedroom anymore.
I have free rein over the apartment. Whenever he’s here—which isn’t often—Alik keeps himself sequestered to his office and I have the rest of the place to myself.
I didn’t have any idea how he’d react when I told him about my night terrors but having him give me a tour of the apartment wasn’t on the list.
It didn’t take long. The hallway off the main living space only leads to three more rooms: Alik’s office (where he must be sleeping since I’m in the only bedroom), another bathroom, and a home gym. That last one was a surprise and a relief.
I confessed to Alik that I’ve been going insane locked in the bedroom, that I can’t handle being confined to a room without panic setting in. In all my nightmares I’ve been trying to escape the cell in my uncle’s basement. It turns out I’ve started sleepwalking too.
It’s been two nights since Alik found me bleeding on his balcony.
I was sleepwalking that night, literally running away from my nightmares.
That was a particularly bad one. Rocco, Dario—they always have a starring role.
But that time, I heard a new voice. One that made me want to weep.
A woman who sounded so much like my mother.
It must’ve hit hard, because I somehow managed to break out of the bedroom, find a kitchen knife and cut away restraints I wasn’t actually wearing. I must’ve sliced my leg when I dropped the knife. As for how I ended up on the balcony, I can only assume I was trying to find any way to escape.
God knows what would’ve happened if Alik hadn’t come back when he did.
Then again, I might not have gotten myself into that bloody mess if he hadn’t locked me up to begin with.
I’ve been running on this vicious mental cycle since it happened.
Hating him one second, relieved he found me the next.
The mental yo-yoing is exhausting, but I can’t find a kill switch for my brain.
My best hope is to exhaust my body to the point I can’t think any more.
Which is why I overnighted myself some new workout clothes, charged to Alik’s credit card, and am now in the home gym, glaring at the reflection of my beet-red face in the mirror.
Barely a mile on the treadmill and so far, my plan isn’t working. Instead of radio silence, my skull is getting more crowded and my legs are wobbling like jello. The gash on my leg stings beneath the bandages.
“Christ, Sera. You used to run 5k practically every day when you were training for soccer,” I remind my reflection. “And now you can barely make half that.”
I’m being hard on myself, I know that. It’s not just that I’m out of shape. My muscles have withered over the past few months without fuel and regular use. That was how Rocco kept me weak, unable to fight back.
A position I never want to be in again.
I don’t let myself slow down, don’t let my feet stop moving. Mile two hits and everything starts to get more painful. My feet burning, my lungs screaming. I grip the sides of the machine, leveraging what little upper body strength I have to keep myself going as long as possible.
Another five minutes and I have to stop. My heart is clogging my throat when I stagger off the machine. Spots dance in front of my eyes and I stumble forward.
Shit. I’m so dizzy it’s hard to see straight. There’s a water jug in the corner. I make my way toward it but only get a few steps before I stagger.
“Shit! Marya.” Alik appears out of nowhere, grabbing me by the elbows. “What the hell are you doing?”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. He’s here, catching me again.
“Where did you come from?” I writhe out of his grip.
He hovers too close, ready to spring if I so much as lean sideways. “Why the fuck have you been running?”
“Go away.” I try to move past, but he stays in step, blocking every attempt. “Seriously, why are you even here? Can’t you just let me blackout in peace?”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you think you were doing.”
I’m not a tiny person. I’ve looked over the head of more than one guy in my life.
But Alik’s got at least six inches on me and, with him invading my personal space, I have an up-close-and-personal view of his neck.
The tension pulling his muscles there. The pattern of black ink that curves around from the top of his spine, stopping just in line with his jaw.
The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, and the rough texture of his stubble, and the cut of his collar bones exposed by the opening of his shirt.
The bruises he had when I first arrived are almost faded. The bandages that used to peek out from the top of his shirt are gone. He seems to have recovered from whatever happened to him, his body radiating strength and power. Everything I’m not, and it makes me see red.
I shove his chest hard. “Move.”
“No. Not until I’m convinced you aren’t going to pass out.”
“I’m fine. It was nothing.”
His jaw ticks. “You went completely white, Marya. I saw your eyes roll back.”
“Seriously, how? Are you spying on me?”
“I’m only doing what I should’ve from the start. I’ve put cameras in the apartment.”
“For real? You’re actually watching me?”
Alik stands his ground. “It was a logical move after the other night. You need someone to keep an eye on you, to stop you from hurting yourself again.” He gestures at the treadmill. “Obviously.”
“God, you are such an arrogant prick.” I want to escape him, this room, but my legs won’t work properly. One step and I’m worried I’m going to drop on my ass. “Where are the cameras? Holy shit, are you watching me sleep? Such a creep.”
“No, Marya. I’m not a pervert. Christ.” Alik scrubs the back of his neck, irritation coming off him in waves. “There are no cameras in the bedroom or bathrooms. Just in the main living areas, hallways, and this room.”
The reality of what he’s saying sinks in, and I’m instantly embarrassed. Oh, God. “You’ve been watching me run?”
“If you mean I’ve been watching you be reckless and risk injuring yourself all over again, then yes.
” Alik’s irritation turns to anger. “I was in the middle of something when I saw you doing whatever the fuck this was. I had to stop everything, come racing back here before you seriously hurt yourself. Before you tripped and fell and broke your fucking neck. Yopt’!
What the hell were you thinking?” He’s yelling now.
“Why do you care?” I yell back. “Why do you care so much about what your little captive does? Why do you care if I hurt myself? I’m sticking to our agreement. I’m not trying to run away. I’m keeping to the confines of my prison. Beyond that, what does it matter to you what I do?”
My chest is heaving, my sports bra suddenly too tight. The elastic of my shorts cuts into my waist and thighs. Everything I’m wearing feels too small, too revealing, the shape of my body very clearly on display in what amounts to little more than a few scraps of spandex.
I wrap my arms around my midsection, and the movement draws Alik’s attention down to my chest.
I follow his gaze and feel my temperature spike when I realize what he’s looking at. In this position I’ve pushed my boobs to the upward limits of the bra. My chest isn’t big, nowhere close, but it’s so squished right now I actually have cleavage. Cleavage that Alik is blatantly staring at.
The longer he looks, the harder my nipples get. The more I realize my legs are shaking for a new reason.
A reason, a reaction I haven’t felt in a very long time.
Vaffanculo. I haven’t felt anything like attraction in at least three years.
My body’s been deprived of anything like it, forced into hibernation and dry to the bone.
In the recesses of my mind, I was starting to wonder if that part of me would ever come back to life or if the starvation Rocco put me through—physical, emotional, social—killed that part of me forever.
My breasts start to physically ache under Alik’s heated gaze.
His eyelids start to fall under the pressure building between us and I want to scream.
How can my body come alive for this man?
Why does it have to be his attention that makes my stomach flip in anticipation?
His hands that I want to feel on my bare skin? His mouth—
Fuck. No. No way. I’m not doing this Stockholm Syndrome bullshit with him. I rip my eyes from his face, pour as much steel into my voice as I can. “Seriously, Alik—why do you care?”
My question pulls him out of his trance.
His broad chest expands on an inhale, and I refuse to acknowledge how gorgeous he looks.
Golden-brown hair ruffled, expression hard, casual indifference dropping over him like a shield, from his strong shoulders to his muscular thighs.
“I only care,” he says, utterly detached, “because whatever else I am, I’m a man of my word.
I told you you’d be safe here, Marya. I’m not about to let you make a liar out of me, no matter how fucking hard you try. ”
Turning on his heel, Alik strides for the door as his answer hits me like a bad turn on the tilt-a-whirl. Up goes down, my head spins, and I realize too late that I haven’t eaten anything today.
I’m on my ass a second later. My butt stings, but it’s Alik’s dismissal that really hurts.
I don’t know what I was thinking, what I was hoping for.
I hate him. I resent him. I’m not staying with him one second more than I have to.
But he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in three years and having him dismiss me like that is a painful pill to swallow.
Apparently, whatever’s happened in the time since he started sneaking into my cell, it hasn’t formed a connection between us.
I don’t mean anything to him.
He doesn’t even know my name.
Because you refused to tell him, you idiot. Because holding back that one part of myself seemed like the only card I had to play, the rest of the deck stacked against me.
Loneliness wraps its fingers around my neck and squeezes until I’m choking. Tears burn my cheeks. I’m crying in huge heaves, eyes squeezed shut, knees to my chest, arms wrapped around my legs in a pathetic attempt to keep myself in one piece.
“My name is Sera,” I whisper through sobs.
That’s who I used to be before everything I knew was taken from me.
Before my family became my number one enemy, before I stopped recognizing myself.
Before I became so alone. “Sera, Sera, Sera,” I chant, sobs getting louder, messier. “I just want to go back to being Sera.”
“Sera?” Alik’s voice is back inside my skull, just like in my dreams. Comfort and temptation twisted up in each other.
My name is Sera. I can’t tell if I say it out loud or in my head. The only thing I know for certain is that I can feel Alik close by—so close—and I’m torn between hating him and wanting him to never leave me alone again.
“Is that your name?”
I open swollen eyes, tears still free-falling. Alik is kneeling on the floor in front of me, his hands restless on his thighs. I wait for him to ask me what’s wrong. To demand I repeat my name. To scold me for the things I keep doing wrong.
I could handle any of those. Would know how to respond to any of those.
Instead, Alik brushes hair off my damp cheek and does the one thing no one has done in as long as I can remember. He asks, “Are you okay?”
The question is genuine, his concern palpable. I’m a human being in his eyes. Someone worth noticing, worth acknowledging. For reasons I cannot begin to understand, I swear Alik actually sees me, and all the attraction I’d banished comes back in a rush. “What did you say?”
Alik’s hand slides to the base of my skull, his palm cradling me so easily. “I asked if you’re okay.”
I wrap my fingers around his forearm, lean forward and whisper, “That’s what I thought.” Then I shock the hell out of us both and kiss him.