Chapter 5 - Lilia
I almost lulled myself to sleep in the trunk of the car, trying to pretend I was in my own room, safe under the covers. No one could hurt me.
But they could, and did, when the car finally stopped, and the trunk snapped open, pouring sunshine in on me and blinding me temporarily.
Rough hands grabbed my arms and pulled me out, shuffling me across a neatly manicured trail around the back of a mansion that rivaled my cousin Aleks’s house.
I looked around but didn’t recognize anyone or anything.
I stumbled against one of the paving stones leading into a lavish garden, and one of the men shook me hard, rattling my teeth. “Be careful,” the other one said. “You’ll catch hell if you damage the merchandise.”
They dragged me further through the garden, where we came to a huge pool with a meandering stream attached, leading to a waterfall feature. Bright sunshine sparkled on the water’s clear surface, and a stage was being set up across the width of the pool.
I could barely register any of it, the scenes coming in flashes through my blank terror. We made it to a room inside the house, where the men shoved me in and slammed the door on me. I thought I was alone, but a paunchy man stood up from where he sat in the corner, swooping in on me like a bat.
I shuddered, pressing backwards against the door, staring at the floor and wishing, praying, that I’d wake up. The man moved so close I could smell the sour cigar smoke on his breath. He tipped up my chin, grabbing my jaw in a tight grip when I refused to look up at him.
“Even prettier than your pictures,” he said, forcing me to raise my head and meet his cold stare. “You are going to make me a fortune. Now, get undressed.”
Trembling so hard at his words, I slipped down, my knees crumbling and sending me to the floor. He stepped away, laughing at me before reaching down and tearing my blouse straight down the back.
With a grumbling noise, he shoved me aside, opening the door and calling out. “Get her something better to wear.” He yanked me back up, pulling the rest of my shirt off and then tugging at my jeans. “No one will bid for shit with this childish underwear you’ve got on.”
One of the men who’d thrown me in the trunk stuck his head in. “Some of them might like it. She’s supposed to be a virgin, after all.” He leered at me and licked his lips. “I’d be happy to find out for you.”
That earned him a hard slap, and I couldn’t say I wasn’t pleased about it, but the flicker of satisfaction hardly registered. I had just figured it all out. The stage, the crack about me being merchandise. The demand for something else to wear.
I was about to be put up for sale. I could barely move or make a sound as the old man and his lackey bickered, finally leaving me to my horror. Of course, I had heard about such auctions; I was a Petrov after all. I had seen some things in my short life that haunted my nightmares.
But I had never been part of it, never having the least bit of interest in the family business. Everyone was always fine with it, never pushing me, knowing that my personality was in no way right for how they operated.
Now I was in the thick of it, and all I could do was try to stay upright, maintain my dignity, and not pass out. Who knew what they’d do to me then. It was difficult to do when I had no hope of rescue, since that dirty guard would throw my family off the trail with his lies and fake injuries.
It might have been minutes or hours, but someone eventually tossed a negligee into the room, snarling at me to put it on.
I stared at it for a long time, then, as if the person knew I’d balk at the order, he opened the door again and said he’d put it on for me if I didn’t comply.
He looked too eager to get the chance, so I grabbed it and ran to the corner of the room, hurriedly getting the filmy bit of nothing on.
When I was done, the man snapped handcuffs on my wrists, way too happy about locking them until they bit into my skin.
Music thumped from the pool area as I was dragged from the room. On the path, before we reached the steps leading up to the stage, everything went silent, and the horrible old man who ripped my clothes announced the main event was about to begin.
Don’t panic, stay dignified. I am a Petrov.
Except I was panicking, far from dignified in the completely sheer lingerie that clung to my skin that was clammy with fear, and being a Petrov was probably what got me into this mess.
There weren’t too many men in the crowd, but to me it seemed like a vast sea of wolves, snapping and howling to get their teeth and claws into my flesh. Full of a hatred so strong it nearly knocked me into the pool, I closed my eyes.
Shouted curses and the sound of a splash made me look, hoping they were killing each other.
Someone was certainly eager to get on stage, shoving the others aside.
In moments, the big brute in a suit was beside me, shoving me behind him.
He clearly put the fear of God into some of the men present.
More than a few were hustling away with their chins tucked into their chests.
The man in charge even backed up a step at the sheer rage emanating from this new man’s eyes. He seemed larger than life, at least a foot taller than me, and dwarfing the security guard who tried to rush him.
One swipe of his massive arm, and the guard was in the pool. The old man shouted at him over the mayhem. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Quiet,” the man-mountain bellowed. Silence fell from the arguing rabble around the pool. “The auction is over. I win.”
I started sinking, but he sensed it somehow, or had eyes in the back of his head.
He grabbed my arm to keep me upright while the older man thrust out his beer gut, flung aside the microphone, and started howling with anger.
Something about his money, how this was robbery.
How I was his to sell, and the man holding me upright was a thief.
“You’ll be compensated,” he growled. “It would be better to accept graciously if you don’t want me to spill your blood and pollute this nice pool with your brain matter.”
The words were like cruel poetry, and I sagged against him.
He was rescuing me. Somehow, my family had sent a savior in time.
To the men who still remained and who were grumbling about the money they wasted to be there, he turned to them with pure murder in his eyes, his voice ringing out like thunder.
“Anyone want to fight me for my own fiancée?” What the hell? The would-be bidders looked as confused as I felt. “You know who I am,” he continued. “You know what I’m capable of. Do not let your status in this world make you believe you’re safe.”
And that was all it took to make the stragglers run, actually run, toward the side of the house where they disappeared beyond a cluster of bright pink rhododendron bushes.
“This isn’t over,” the old man hissed.
“It is,” my redeemer said, tugging me toward the steps. “It is if you know what’s good for you. Stay here until I contact you again if you want to live through this grave error in judgment. Come after me and die like a dog.”
Wow, I could have listened to this guy spit glorious vengeance all day long.
He had to be a secret poet. He hustled me toward the back door of the house.
Inside, there were a couple of men waiting for instructions.
I didn’t recognize them, but they had to be Aleks’s people and I relaxed enough to gain some strength in my legs and stiffen my spine.
A few short, barked orders let me know at least some of the people involved in my abduction weren’t going to make it through the night. Good. The news made me stand taller as the big man continued to tug me along at a brisk pace, almost panicked to get out.
I looked him over, noting his glossy, dark hair falling over a brow that could have graced an ancient coin.
Green eyes searched the path ahead of him as he pulled me along.
His immaculate suit fit him perfectly, accentuating broad shoulders and a trim waist. The scowl on his chiseled face was like gathering storm clouds, but it didn’t mar the fact that he was incredibly handsome. A true, avenging angel.
Somehow, the paunchy old man loomed in front of us, blocking the path out of the front door.
“You won’t get away with this, Gavril,” he hissed.
The old man pulled himself to his full height, still a half a foot shorter than—wait. Gavril? I knew that name. A coincidence? Gavril, my rescuer, shoved him hard with the heel of his hand, sending the fat asshole skidding across the polished parquet floor.
We continued, so fast I was almost running, off balance with my hands cuffed behind me, but Gavril kept a firm grip on my arm, helping me along.
“Watch your back, Bocharov,” echoed from the house.
Gavril Bocharov. Of course, I knew that name.
Not a coincidence at all. He was the leader of the Collective, our worst enemy.
He was responsible for kidnapping Paisley, Dan’s soon-to-be wife.
He was definitely not on my side and absolutely no angel.
This wasn’t a rescue. I was merely being transferred from the proverbial frying pan and into the fire.
All the strength drained out of me, and I crumpled.
With a muttered oath, he barely broke his stride and scooped me into his arms. A moment later, he tossed me into the backseat of a car, and he raced away from the mansion.
Better than the trunk, but not much. I barely kept it together as he drove in silence, finally pulling into another long, winding driveway and parking in front of a secluded mansion.
It was surely gorgeous and stately, but in my state of mind, it looked like a looming, white horror house.
Pulling me back out, he seemed to notice I was handcuffed for the first time.
Looking supremely pissed off, he muttered more curses as he ordered one of his nearby security staff to bring him a spare key.
As soon as they were off, he swore some more at the sight of my red wrists, then he picked me up and brought me into the house.
As soon as my feet hit the shining marble floor in the entry hall, I lost it.
There was no more hanging onto dignity. My courage, what little there was, had run dry.
Full-on panic overwhelmed me, tears poured, guttural cries ripped from my throat.
I curled up in a heap on the floor, struggling to breathe.
I hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years, and while it was warranted, I still hated every minute of the torture my body was going through.
A cool hand settled on my shoulder. “Stop,” Gavril said, firm and brusque, but surprisingly calming. “You’re safe, Lilia. No one’s going to hurt you.”
I actually stopped hyperventilating. He kept the gentle pressure on my shoulder, repeating that I was okay now until the trembling stopped. The tears stopped. I was quiet at last, but still completely spent and weakened.
Very gently, he picked me up and carried me up a white, curving stairway, carpeted in deep red. Down a hallway, he deposited me in a luxuriously furnished room, not at all a dungeon.
“I’ll have someone bring you some food,” he said, in the same firm but calming voice.
Then he just left me alone, the one thing I needed more than anything else. I was at my limit and sank onto the bed, the cool silk coverlet smooth against my cheek. I took several deep breaths, holding them and letting them out until I was centered.
Except now that I was no longer panicked, fury stepped in.
Aimed squarely at myself. Why didn’t I let Masha teach me self-defense all those times she offered?
Why didn’t I join the shooting lessons and carry my own gun like everyone else in my family?
Why did I always choose to have my head in a book, pretending real life didn’t exist?
Because of that, I was finding out that it did exist, and it wasn’t just as awful as I secretly feared. It was worse.