8. Alexia
8
Alexia
I wake up to the muted light filtering through the large windows. The soft glow diffuses through the white curtains. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up with the reality around me, a reality that feels foreign. I blink slowly, taking in the vastness of the room, the high ceilings, the cold elegance of every carefully placed object.
Dave’s room.
Memories rush in like a flood—his hands, rough but sure; the way his breath felt against my skin, warm and possessive. His voice, low and dark, as he commanded me to come undone for him. I close my eyes, trying to suppress the heat that surges through me at the thought of him. It’s been five years, but the way he touched me last night... It felt like no time had passed at all, as if those years between us had been nothing but an illusion.
I shiver despite the warmth of the bed; it’s not from the cold. I shouldn’t feel this way. I can’t feel this way. Yesterday changes nothing. It means nothing—just a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment. I can’t allow myself to believe it was anything more than sexual gratification—for me, that is. Dave got nothing out of it, except the chance to wield his power over me. I’m sure he took care of that painfully hard erection in the shower. I tried to stay awake, but I was too tired. I must’ve fallen asleep before he even made it to the bathroom.
But as much as I repeat to myself that it meant nothing, it feels like a lie. My body still aches for him, and my heart... my heart refuses to stop remembering what it used to feel like to belong to him. Five years. Five years and nothing has dulled this pull between us.
I sit up, the chill in the morning air brushing against my bare skin. The sheets next to me are cool where his body should be. I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am. A part of me wanted to find him still here. I wanted to wrap myself in his warmth just a little longer. But that’s a foolish dream. I didn’t come back to Dave’s life for this. I came back because I had no choice. Because I needed to protect Rose.
I glance around the room. The king-size bed with its four-poster wood frame commands the space, and the double-height, vaulted ceiling soars overhead, expanding the room to make it even more impressive. The whole room exudes power and control, from the clean lines of the furniture to the crystal chandelier that catches the morning light. It’s designed to intimidate. Yet underneath all that grandeur, there’s something warmer, something more personal. Dave’s scent lingers in the air—leather, pine, and the unmistakable edge of danger.
This house is meant to be a refuge, a safe house, but there’s something unsettling about it. It’s too pristine, too perfect. Unlike the other places I’ve lived with Igor, places where shadows hid beneath every surface, this house feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting. But for what?
I slip out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as I move toward the window. The silence closes in on me. Dave’s gone, and there’s nothing here but the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. For a moment, I imagine I’m back in the life I had growing up in Boston—a life without fear, without danger lurking around every corner. But that’s not my life anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time.
My eyes catch my reflection in the full-length mirror as I pass by, and I stop short. My skin is flushed, my hair tousled from sleep, and... I’ve got to be honest with myself. My hair got this messy from surrendering to my dark desires and submitting to Dave last night. I look like someone I don’t recognize, someone who gave in to desire, someone who let herself be vulnerable. A knot forms in my throat as I fight the reality staring back at me. How can everything feel so right in the dark? And so wrong in the daylight?
I strip off Dave’s jersey, the soft fabric falling to the floor as I step into the shower. The hot water cascades over me, scalding, but it does nothing to wash away the confusion that clings to me like a second skin. No matter how much I scrub, I can’t get rid of the sensation of Dave’s touch lingering on me.
What am I doing here? How did I let things get so out of control? I asked for Dave’s help because of Rose. We needed to escape Igor’s heinous plans. I needed to keep her safe. But who was I gaslighting? Did I seriously believe that I had gotten over Dave? How could I think I didn’t have feelings for the man I wasn’t able to forget for a moment over the years? The second I saw him in that alley, every single feeling I’d buried came rushing back. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to stop this from happening. Hell, I don’t want to stop.
I finish quickly, drying off as my mind drifts to Rose. Igor has always known he wasn’t her father. How could he be? The few times he tried to have sex with me, he was never able to get an erection. He made sure I’d remember each one of those times for the rest of my life. Since the day she was born, I’ve dreaded what such knowledge would drive him to do. So when he threatened to sell her, I wasn’t surprised. But I would never let him trade my sweet, innocent Rose as if she were a commodity.
I slip into fitted jeans and a simple blouse and check myself in the mirror. The thought of one of Dave’s staff choosing clothes for me and for Rose unsettles me. It’s just another reminder of how much control Dave holds over my life now. How easily he stepped back in and took charge, as if I had never left.
I push the thought aside and head toward Rose’s adjoining room. It’s a soft pink, a color so innocent it feels out of place in this world of shadows and violence. But it’s perfect for her, a delicate, airy space that’s a stark contrast to the horrors of our past.
“Good morning, moy zaychik!” I call out as I step into the room, my heart lifting slightly at the sound of her giggles.
“Mama!” Her high-pitched, excited voice floats from the closet, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of peace. She’s happy here. She’s safe. But for how long?
I open the closet door and find her surrounded by dolls, her small hands fussing over their dresses and shoes. Her face is lit with pure, untainted joy, a happiness I haven’t seen in her for so long. And it breaks my heart.
Pete, Nadya’s son, sits beside her, his five-year-old hands helping Rose arrange the dolls. He grins at me when he sees me, a boyish grin that should ease my worries but doesn’t. How could any child stay untouched by the world we live in?
Nadya stands nearby, watching them both with a slight crease in her brow. There’s always a hint of worry in her eyes, even though she tries to hide it from me. She meets my gaze and gives me a small nod. “Good morning, ma’am,” she says.
“Good morning,” I reply, crouching down to Rose’s level.
“Look, Mama! Pete helped me with the dolls! They have little hats and everything!” Rose beams up at me, her dark green eyes wide with excitement.
I smile, though the weight of everything threatens to crush me. “They’re beautiful, sweetheart. Did you thank Pete for helping you?”
“Not yet!” She grins, glancing at Pete, who is already distracted with another doll.
Nadya steps forward, brushing a hand over Rose’s hair. “Pete and I were waiting for you to come down for breakfast. Everything’s ready.”
I stand, my hand lingering on Rose’s shoulder. “Is everything okay, Nadya?” I ask, my voice low.
She hesitates before nodding. “Of course. Everything’s fine.”
But there’s something she’s not saying. I can see it in her eyes, the way they flickered to Rose for just a moment. I let it go for now, but a part of me knows that things are never as simple as they seem.
As we head downstairs, Rose’s small hand in mine, the house feels too quiet. My heart pounds harder as we descend the wide, curved staircase. Every step echoes in the silence. There’s a tension in the air, one that has nothing to do with Dave’s absence and everything to do with the fact that no place is truly safe. Not for us.
We reach the foyer. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and for a moment, I let myself breathe. The normalcy of it all—the sunlight streaming through the windows, the gentle clink of dishes—almost makes me believe everything is okay. Almost.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement—a shadow too quick, too sudden. My heart lurches, and I freeze. My body tenses, muscles tightening in instinctual defense. Someone is here. Someone I don’t know.
Before I can react, a man steps into the doorway. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in black, he’s exactly the type of person I’ve learned to fear. His presence fills the room like a storm cloud, and my mind immediately conjures every terrible possibility.
“Ma’am.” His voice is low but steady, almost too calm. His hands are raised slightly, as if to show he means no harm. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
I stay silent, my heart still racing, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
He takes a step forward, careful, measured. “I’m one of Dave’s men. Name’s Jonathan.” There’s a flicker of something in his gray eyes—reassurance, maybe.
I swallow hard, still unsure if I can trust him. “I... I didn’t hear you come in,” I manage, my voice thinner than I’d like.
“Security detail,” he says, shrugging slightly. “We try to keep a low profile. But we’re here to keep you safe.”
His words sink in slowly, and a wave of relief washes over me. Dave’s man. I exhale shakily, letting my muscles relax a fraction. “Jonathan, right?”
He nods. “Yes, ma’am. You’ve got nothing to worry about. We’ve got the place secured.”
I take another deep breath, finally letting go of the tension in my shoulders. “Sorry. I just—this place...”
Jonathan gives a small, understanding smile. “I get it. It takes some getting used to. But you’re safe here.”
Safe. That word again. It echoes in my mind, but I know better than to believe it completely. Still, knowing his name, seeing the calm in his expression, helps. I nod, finally easing back into the moment. “Thank you.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment before turning to leave, his footsteps quieter than before. I watch him disappear down the hallway, the tension in my muscles finally fading.
I turn toward the kitchen, the scent of coffee grounding me again. For now, I let myself relax. Just for a moment.
Rose skips beside me, chattering about her dolls, her joy infectious. But the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. I’m keeping too many secrets. Secrets that could destroy the fragile peace I’ve found here.
As we round the corner, I stop in my tracks. Instead of focusing on the beautiful space with its soft white cabinetry and delicate molding, my mind dives back in time. How can this be? Fran is standing at the kitchen island, working dough with her skilled hands. The sight of her pulls me out of my thoughts, and I can’t help the rush of emotions that crash over me. Fran—who has always been more like family than staff—is here, in this strange house, with us. For a brief moment, I feel the weight of the last five years slip away.
“Fran,” I breathe, stepping forward, my voice trembling with disbelief. “I didn’t know you were here.”
She looks up, her face breaking into a wide smile. “Alexia, child,” she says warmly, wiping her hands on a towel before opening her arms. I step into her embrace, letting myself sink into the comfort of her hug. For just a moment, I let myself feel like I’ve come home. But that’s not true, is it? This place, this life—it’s a temporary refuge. Nothing more.
Fran pulls back, holding me at arm’s length, her sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. “You’re too thin, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ll fatten you up with my cooking. You still look gorgeous, but you could use a few pounds.”
I laugh, but the sound feels hollow. “I missed your cooking,” I admit, a hint of nostalgia in my voice. To her right, I glimpse a tall red velvet cake resting on a tray. My heart skips a beat. “Oh, God! You remembered?”
She chuckles. “How could I forget your favorite dessert?” Her face softens as she turns to Rose, who has been hiding shyly behind me. “And who’s this beautiful young lady?” she asks, crouching down to Rose’s level.
Rose steps forward, her dark green eyes wide as she smiles. “I’m Rose.”
Fran’s gaze lingers on her for a beat too long, her expression remains soft but... knowing. “You’ve got the most beautiful eyes. A deep emerald shade. So rare.”
The air stills, my heart pounding in my chest. My muscles tighten across my shoulders and neck as I wait for Fran to say who used to have that exact color of eyes. But Fran doesn’t say anything else. She simply smiles, standing back up as she pinches Rose’s nose playfully.
“She’s funny, Mama,” Rose affirms, looking up at me with a wide grin that makes her dimples pop.
I force myself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. “Yes, she is.”
I smile at Fran, who gives me a knowing look.
“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” Fran says, ruffling Rose’s hair before adding, “You lot look like you could use some breakfast.” Fran motions toward the dining room. “Nadya and Pete are in there. Make yourselves comfortable.”
Rose tugs on my hand, “Let’s go find them, Mama!”
As we move toward the informal dining room, I glance back at Fran, the warmth of her presence soothing me. There’s something comforting in seeing her here. Like a piece of my old life is still intact, untouched by the darkness that’s followed me for so long.
But I know this peace won’t last. It never does. Not when I’m keeping secrets from a man who’s just trying to protect us. Secrets that could tear his world apart.
For now, though, I let myself enjoy this moment. I allow myself to believe that, for a little while longer, things might be okay.
Who could blame me? This illusion is all I have.