CHAPTER 63
Frankie
“Niko, please. I promise that whatever I did to anger you, it wasn’t intentional. It won’t happen again. Please believe me.”
“Shut the fuck up, slut. Bliad′!”
His fingers dig into the flesh of my upper arm, sending pain slicing through me. It’s all I can do not to black out. But that would surely cause me to fall down the stone steps that lead to his wine cellar, which would be a sure way to die.
And I’m not ready to die. Nowhere near ready.
So I force myself to stay alert and focus on where I am and what is happening, even as my six-inch heels slip and slide on the uneven stone.
“Zatknis' na hui, shliushka!” He hits my face again as he drags me deeper underground. I feel hot blood dripping down the side of my cheek and along my neck. His pinky ring just cut through my skin again. I’ve lost track of how many times he’s struck me in the last six hours.
I hate that fucking hideous ring. He once told me he wears the tacky gold nugget to show the world he’s a successful businessman. It only advertises what a giant sleazoid asshole monster he is, of course. Maybe now’s the time to tell him the truth.
That I hate him.
I hear myself sob. The sound is desperate and sorrowful, rising from deep in my chest.
He puts his lips to my ear, laughing. “Your ugliness turns my stomach. Your face is no longer so beautiful, is it Frances? Boo-hoo, so sad.”
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I take a quick look around through my swollen eyelids, but almost instantly, Niko flips off the light.
The next thing I know he’s dragging me down the hallway, past the entrance to his wine cellar, and throws me into a room. I hit the floor and curl up in a ball.
The cold, hard stone feels good against my hot and swollen face.
“Hope you’re not scared of the dark. Unfortunately, there’s no light switch in here, so don’t bother looking for one.” He kneels by my side, leans in, and leaves a kiss on my forehead. “But If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll bring you a lantern.”
He stands, walks away, and the door shuts.
In seconds, I’m lost to the darkness. And then I slip into a deep, black void.
I wake sometime later. I’m shaking, alone, and sitting in the cold of an ink-black darkness. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.
Not the mountain cabin.
Not Special K’s beautiful home on the ranch.
Not even in Niko’s bed.
It takes every bit of strength I have to push myself up to a sitting position. Niko threw me down here. I have no idea how long ago that was, or what time it is now, or what day it is, or what the absolute flaming fuck he has planned for me.
Whatever it is, it’s going to be very bad.
Here’s what I do know: I’m padlocked into a tiny storage room adjacent to Niko’s beloved wine cellar. My hands reach out to touch what feels like a wooden crate on the stone floor. I pull myself up to sit. I remove my useless high-heeled shoes.
Of all the pressing issues I’m facing, and at the top of the list is my body temperature. It may be spring on the shore of Lake Tahoe, but it’s freezing in this room and I’m wearing nothing but a silk camisole.
That was intentional, no doubt about it. Niko waited for me to strip down for him and that’s when he dragged me down to the dungeon. It didn’t matter how I begged him for mercy. He doesn’t comprehend the meaning of that word.
I’d have better luck asking a Great White Shark to kindly release the dolphin it’s eating.
It’s not the first time Niko’s locked me away. But it is the first time he’s chosen the cellar of his Tahoe mansion.
And never for this long.
It may be that Niko’s left me in this airless room to die. Or, it’s just taking him some time to come up with an even better way to watch me suffer.
I know his Russian syndicate sells women. I’ve overheard conversations I had no business hearing, and I did whatever I could to warn women that they were targets. I’m not sure I ever made a difference, and it makes me sick to think about all the lives he’s destroyed.
It’s just another reason I regret ever meeting Niko, ever agreeing to that drink, ever going on that first date.
So much regret.
I don’t even attempt to picture the man Niko would sell me to. He’s so angry, and so obviously disgusted with me, he’d choose someone known for their interest in torture.
As if I’m not being tortured enough.
I try to get my thoughts in order. There’s got to be a way out of here.
I lower myself from the crate and crawl on my hands and knees toward what I believe might be the door’s location.
I’m wrong, but I eventually locate it, then frantically run my hands over the latch, the metal doorframe, and even try to shove my fingers under the bottom, looking for any way to get it open.
I decide to find something to jimmy the door. It was dark when Niko dumped me in here, so I have no idea what might be on the shelves in here. Or in the drawers. Or even if there are shelves and drawers.
I stand, put my hands in front of me, and slowly move clockwise through the room. All I feel is more cold stone. But then I crash into something and my shin is sliced open. I fall to the floor in agony.
I reach for the wooden box. It feels sturdy, like it could be a packing crate for bottles of wine. I decide I’ll try to break it apart and use a piece of wood to jimmy the door or even wield as a weapon.
I lift the box and slam it into the stone. I do it again. I’m so weak and cold that nothing’s happening. I smash it to the stone again and again and…
A light goes on in the hallway and shines beneath the door. I sit on the box and try to catch my breath. I’m winded and dizzy. I have no idea how long ago it was that I had anything to eat or drink.
The door swings open. Niko enters. The hallway light is enough for me to immediately know what I’m dealing with.
He’s wearing jeans and a turtleneck, which is unlike him. He’s obviously plastered. His eyes are bloodshot, his face blotchy, and he’s barely standing upright.
This is Niko at his most dangerous.