Chapter Twenty-Six - EMMA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EMMA
THE FLUORESCENT LIGHT flickering overhead wakes me up from a restless sleep. I try to plunge myself back into darkness by pulling the flimsy blanket over my head. It softens the harsh light, but doesn’t completely block it out. It certainly does nothing to ease the pounding in my head.
I hear the slide of the lock and the heavy door opening, then sit up quickly. That was a bad idea. The pounding headache momentarily intensifies.
“Good morning, little clover,” Patrick says to me. I used to think his accent was sexy. Now I just find it offensive to my ears.
“What’s good about it? I want to go home,” I reply. My voice is hoarse from screaming and lack of water. I’m desperately thirsty and hungry, but I’ve ignored the food and water I’ve been provided unless it’s been forced on me. I don’t trust it to not be laced with something.
“Is that any way to greet your future husband?” he asks, pushing a lock of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
Husband? “What the fuck makes you think we’re engaged? I haven’t agreed to marry you, and I never will,” I spit out.
“That’s where you’re wrong, little clover,” Patrick replies. “You see, you’re my reward that comes with my job promotion.”
“Like hell I am,” I tell him. “I’m not some prize to be won, and I will never agree to marry you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Your father owed a debt to Declan Callaghan. He didn’t pay, so his debt belongs to you,” Patrick explains. “Callaghan told me if I brought you in, I could have you. You’ll be my wife soon.”
“There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that will happen,” I say through gritted teeth. “Ivan will come for me before then.”
“We’ll see, little clover. We’ll see,” Patrick says as he turns to leave the room. “Maybe some more time in this room, alone, will help to change your mind.”
I close my eyes tightly against the intrusive overhead light while trying to remember anything that happened since I saw Patrick at the farmer’s market.
I remember being in the backseat of the car and screaming when Patrick called Ivan.
I felt a prick on my neck when Patrick put his hands on me, and the next thing I remember is waking up in this basement room and having the conversation with Patrick.
Patrick returned later in the day. He smiled and it did nothing but make me feel oily and slimy all over. He asked me what I knew about Ivan’s operations, and I gave him nothing. He didn’t believe me when I told him that all I knew about Ivan’s business is that he was a real estate developer.
I spit in his face when he traced my cheek with his finger. He forced a kiss on my lips, and when I spit at him again, he slapped me across the face. I’m pretty sure there’s a bruise there now.
“You’ll regret that, Emma. Ivan isn’t coming for you. Not anymore. You don’t matter to him,” Patrick said before he left the basement room and locked the door.
I scream and cry, struggling against my restraints. What the fuck is happening? I know Ivan cares.
Someone comes in a little while later to bring me food, and I do my best to ignore the taunts that always come with the delivery.
Patrick reappears and tries to force food down my throat.
I resist as much as I can, but some of it goes down my throat when I’m forced to swallow it.
I curl into myself when Patrick leaves and try to sleep.
The next day that I’m here, Patrick returns and tries to turn on the charm. I’m still not buying it, and he knows it. He tries to kiss me, forcing his tongue between my lips and into my mouth. I bite his tongue, and he recoils in pain before once again slapping me across the face.
“Fucking bitch,” Patrick says as he wipes the blood that is trickling down his chin. He pushes me to the bed so I’m laying on my back, and a chill runs through me. I don’t like where this is going.
Patrick rips my shirt in two, exposing my bra underneath. He grabs my breasts roughly, and I cry out in pain. I kick my legs as hard as I can, and somehow make contact with his shins. He curses at the contact, but not as much as he curses when my foot makes contact with his groin.
He falls to the floor with his hands covering his crotch, and I can’t help but laugh a little bit. Patrick apparently thought I was a weak little girl. Oh how wrong he was.
“That’s the last time you’ll do that, Emma,” Patrick says as he slowly gets to his feet. He leaves the room and locks the door behind him. He’ll be back, and who knows how far he’ll take things next time.
An hour later, I’m being led out of the basement and into the living room of the house. At least my body is covered now. Patrick sent down a pair of leggings and a shirt for me to put on, but I’m not going to thank him for basic decency.
In the living room, there are several people standing around. They’re all dressed in suits, and under different circumstances, I might find some of them attractive. My eyes scan the room and land on Patrick. He meets my eyes, smiles, and starts walking towards me.
“Come now, Emma, it’s our wedding day. You should look happy to be here,” he whispers into my ear. “Look happy, or there will be consequences later.” He unlocks the cuffs, but keeps a tight grip on my wrists.
I try to plaster a smile on my face, but even I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.
Patrick pulls me into his side, and we are approached by a priest with a Bible in his hand.
I know what’s about to happen, and I try to dissociate from the situation.
It’s the only way I’m going to get through this.
My mind drifts to Ivan and our time together.
My heart breaks at the idea that the last few weeks are the only moments we’ll have together.
The priest goes through the opening formalities of a wedding ceremony, and as he asks if there are any objections, a loud explosion sounds from somewhere outside. It’s quickly followed by men shouting and loud gunshots.
Patrick pulls his gun out and pushes me to the ground.
I use the opportunity to crawl towards the couch and try to shield myself behind it.
Another explosion shakes the house, and the gunfire and voices grows louder.
I poke my head around the couch just in time to see two men be shot and fall dead to the living room floor.
I hear thundering footsteps and men yelling nearby. The yelling is Russian. Does that mean Ivan is finally here? I’m more worried about keeping myself as small as possible, hopefully making it out of this place alive.
“Emma! Emma, are you in here?” someone yells. I know that voice. I’d recognize it anywhere, even with the ringing in my ears.
“Ivan?” I yell out. I don’t want to fully reveal myself just in case.
“Emma! Where are you?” Ivan calls out again.
“I’m over here!” I yell as best I can, raising my hands from behind the couch.
The next thing I know, Ivan is crouching down and pulling me into his arms. His lips crash into mine as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer to his chest. He pulls back briefly to look at me in the eyes and check that I’m really alive.
“Ow,” I whimper. “You’re crushing me.”
“Sorry, lyubimaya,” he says, loosening his hold but not letting go.
“Please get me out of here,” I beg him. I try to burrow into his chest, but his vest doesn’t make it easy.
Ivan doesn’t say a word as he picks me up bridal style and carries me across the living room and out the front door. The shooting has stopped, and I’m too tired to take in the destruction around me, so I keep my eyes closed and inhale Ivan’s scent.
“Grigory, get the door!” Ivan yells at his brother.
Grigory opens the back door to an SUV, and Ivan places me gently on the back seat. There’s a feeling of deja vu as he does so. He takes off his vest and hands it to his brother before climbing into the back with me and closing the door. Ivan pulls me onto his lap and holds me close.
As the SUV pulls away from the house, I start falling apart and let the tears flow. I tighten my grip on Ivan while my tears soak into his shirt. He whispers reassurances in my ear while placing soft kisses on the top of my head.
“Thank you for finding me,” I tell Ivan when the tears finally subside.
“No matter where you go, I will always find you.” Ivan kisses me gently and holds me until we arrive home.
When we pull up to the house, we are greeted by several people. Ivan called during the drive and told them to have a doctor waiting. Apparently, several of his men were injured in the rescue attempt, and he wanted someone to check me out, too.
Ivan carries me into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. He’s followed by the doctor, his sister who was introduced to me as Lidiya, and Mrs. Ivanova. He places me on the bed and kneels on the floor next to me, holding my hand.
“Ivan, I need to examine Emma for injuries,” the doctor says, trying to nudge Ivan out of his way. I understand his meaning, but I’m not sure Ivan does.
“So examine her,” Ivan says angrily. “I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
“Ivan, you need to let the doctor do his job,” Lidiya says. “Mrs. Ivanova and I will stay here with Emma while the doctor checks her out.”
Ivan goes to stand, and he dwarfs the doctor as he looms over him. His figure even intimidates me, and I’m barely keeping it together.
“If anything happens to her, I’m holding you personally responsible,” Ivan says, pointing directly in the doctor’s face.
“She’ll receive the best care I can provide, Ivan,” the doctor replies.
“I’ll be just outside the door,” Ivan says as he leans over to kiss me gently. “If you need me, just call.”
Ivan reluctantly steps outside the bedroom and closes the door behind him. If I know him, he’s probably standing in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the door until it opens again.
“My brother is very protective of you,” Lidiya says to me while the doctor gets set up.