Chapter 5
Alina
After Petrov hands me a stack of neatly folded clothes, I close the guestroom door behind me with a click then turn the lock, as if it’ll actually do me any good.
As Dominik said, he could come in whenever the hell he wanted.
I’ll try not to give him a reason because I’m certain that my prison cell could be much, much worse. It could be Gavriil’s cage.
The bedroom is actually bigger than the entire apartment I share with three roommates.
It’s all soft lighting, plush bedding, and a wall of glass looking out over the city.
It’s the sort of luxury found in the most expensive suites at the hotel where I work, ones meant to make you feel safe and comfortable.
Placing the clothes down on the corner of the mattress, I stand in the middle of the open floor, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, listening for footsteps outside.
Nothing. Not a peep. Just the low hum of the air system.
I know I should take a shower then try to lay down and get some sleep. But it feels impossible with all that’s hanging in the balance.
My temporary loss of freedom is nothing compared to what may happen to Archer when they find him.
I still won’t believe he’s guilty unless I hear the words from his mouth.
Archer has always been a bit reckless, quick to leap without looking, and blow his money on taking stupid odds on sports…
Oh shit.
Is that how he ended up getting involved with the Russian mafia? Some sort of bet gone wrong or a gambling debt he couldn’t pay back?
To run off with two million dollars that doesn’t belong to him, he had to have been in deep debt that make the measly hundred dollars a month I give him look like chump change.
With his most recent job as a crane operator and forklift driver at the docks, he would make a valuable asset to a criminal organization if he ended up owing a debt.
I push aside all my guesses since there’s no way to know for sure until I talk to Archer.
Tomorrow he’ll call. He’ll come back with the money if he took it.
He has to; he’s the only person I can put my trust in to do the right thing for me. Even if I’m caught up in this messy situation, I’m not going to give up on him.
After the fastest shower of my life, I put on the shorts and tee provided, then go over to the high bed to climb under the covers since there’s nothing else I can do for Archer tonight. My body literally sinks into the impossibly soft mattress. Still, my mind refuses to stop racing.
The cold look on Gavriil’s face when he assessed me, talked about me, saying nothing good in a language of their own is worrisome.
The Pakhan certainty didn’t look like a man who is kind or good-hearted.
Gavriil was much colder than his underboss, as if he isn’t capable of empathy, and all he knows is how to inflict pain and suffering.
When his finger grazed my skin and his intense blue eyes met mine, I could barely breathe. I felt paralyzed, helplessly at his mercy despite my anger. He could do whatever he wanted with me, and there’s little that I could do to stop it.
Will Dominik be able to protect me from someone so ruthless and powerful?
If not, then this whole nightmare could just be getting started.
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, willing myself not to cry. Crying would mean I’ve accepted that this situation is completely fucking doomed. And I can’t afford to think that way. Everything will work out. It has to.
I must have eventually dozed off at some point, because the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts me awake. Slow. Measured. They stop outside my door.
I hold my breath while I strain my ears to listen.
Nothing happens. The steps retreat, leaving only silence behind.
It’s already morning, the sunshine spilling into the room through the uncovered windows, making things look less scary in the light. That is, until I see the tray on the dresser, one with steaming coffee, toast, eggs, and fruit.
I locked the door before falling asleep, which means someone, probably Dominik, came in, and I never heard him. My traitorous stomach growls, but I don’t move toward the food right away. I don’t want to be grateful that my captor is insistent about feeding me, but I am.
When I finally get up and go over to take a sip of the coffee, it’s cooled, but warm enough. Cinnamon, exactly how I like it.
How did Dominik know I used a ton of sugar and vanilla creamer? He couldn’t have guessed those details unless he’d been watching me longer than I realized.
Unless…he knew where I worked. Does he also know where I live? Did he go into my apartment?
I wouldn’t put the invasion of privacy past him. I’m just glad my roommates, Sabrina, Liz, and Melanie, won’t get pulled into Archer’s mess. They’re teachers at the nearby school of music, so right now, they’re safe, out of town for the whole summer.
Suddenly more curious, I open the top dresser drawer that I assumed was empty last night…and gasp. Panties and bras lie folded inside. Not just any underwear, but my own.
The next drawer is full of my tees; another holds my jeans and shorts. He came into the room to not only deliver my breakfast, but to put away my clothes he stole from my apartment, all without me noticing!
The thought that he carried my things, handled my underwear, without waking me, sends a shiver down my spine.
That’s why I consider his deed a warning more than a fucking favor.
But when I find the red velvet box in the bottom drawer, the one filled with my antique key collection, I don’t mind as much.
It’s a stupid hobby, a worthless collection.
Still, ever since I was little, the keys have been a sign of hope that the future will lead me to a better life, to a door I just haven’t found yet.
Archer gave me the first three skeleton keys he said he “found” at a pawnshop when I was thirteen.
We used to make up stories about the fantasy houses we thought they belonged to.
Opening the lid, I pull out a key on a baby blue ribbon, the one with a fancy crown on the end, my favorite. Holding it, a happy memory from my childhood, makes me feel a little bit less afraid of facing whatever the day brings.
With nothing better to do, I decide to take another shower.
I stand under the hot steam for what feels like an hour because I still feel his blood on me. No matter how many times I scrub, I can’t seem to wash away the previous night.
After my shower, I walk out of the foggy bathroom wearing only the men’s oversized tee and shorts I slept in despite my own personal selection of clothes, and my hair up in a damp bun.
Dominik is sitting in the corner armchair, fully dressed, waiting for me. He’s wearing another immaculate suit while I’m wearing borrowed cotton and damp hair. It feels unfair, like I’m already at a disadvantage with him.
“You could at least give me the illusion of privacy,” I tell him. “Although, I guess that went out the window when you had someone break into my apartment and go through all my things.”
Ignoring my remark, he tips his chin toward the bed that’s already been made by someone who was either in the military or worked in a hotel based on the crispness. On top of the comforter is a large black gift box. The red bow tied around it looks festive. Mockingly so.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A gift sent over by Gavriil. Your outfit for the photos.”
“Outfit? Why can’t I just wear my regular clothes?” I question him.
“Why do you think, Alina?” he huffs as if the answer is obvious.
Curious, and with a growing nervousness, I walk over and untie the bow to remove the top of the box. I have to brush aside a note written in Russian and black tissue paper to finally see what’s inside. When I do, I gasp in outrage.
“No. I’m not wearing that. Not for him. Not for you!” I exclaim, looking back at Dominik with a scowl. “I’m not wearing …whatever that is!” I shove the lid back on the box, as if that’ll make the contents magically disappear.
“Yes, you will wear it,” Dominik replies cooly as he gets to his feet and comes closer.
He removes the lid again, tossing it aside to reach inside.
He holds up the shiny burgundy and black corset that ties all the way down the front with black ribbon.
Next, he removes lacy black boy-cut panties that are entirely see-through.
I hadn’t even seen the fishnet stockings or freaking garter belt until he shows them off.
The worst part is that, based on the purse of his lips fighting a smile, I think he’s amused by my indignation.
“What did you expect Gavriil would want you to wear to send a message to your brother? A nun’s habit? ”
“This is ridiculous! I won’t do it. I won’t wear it,” I declare, crossing my arms over my chest. “My brother doesn’t need to see me wearing so few clothes. It’s appalling.”
“Alina,” Dominik says with a sigh. “This isn’t even the worst of it yet.” He tosses the skimpy items back into the box and picks up the discarded note. After reading it, he crumples it into a ball.
“What do you mean this isn’t the worst of it?”
“You’re a hostage. Gavriil wants to make that abundantly clear to Archer,” he says.
“How?”
Holding my gaze, he tells me, “You’re to be photographed with your arms and legs restrained to a chair, and a piece of duct tape covering your mouth.”
Another soft gasp escapes me at the thought of being tied up again. I pace away from the mobster, then lower myself into the chair in the corner he just vacated. It’s still warm from his body heat.
“For how long? How long will I have to be…like that?”
“Ten or fifteen minutes. Just long enough for me to take the photos Gavriil wants, then you’ll be released and allowed to change.”
Well, at least that’s…something, I guess.
Ten or fifteen minutes is nothing. I can survive anything for that length of time. Yesterday I was bound for over an hour.