Chapter 4 - Georgie
My vision swims, and my body feels like it belongs to someone else.
Two men carry the chair I’m tied to and set it down on a stage.
Bright, glaring lights pierce my eyes, and I want to hurl, but I have to fight it because there’s still duct tape over my mouth.
They’ve kept it on for almost the entire time, only pulling it off occasionally to let me drink water or eat a piece of dry bread.
The rest of the time…I can barely remember anything. It’s a weird, blurry sludge in my mind. I can’t grab on to details because they slip away as soon as I focus on them.
And now that light is like someone shining a laser beam into my skull. It’s horrifying. I can hear men, a lot of men, talking around me.
I blink again, fighting against the drugs they’ve pumped into my system.
Through the red haze lighting the crowd, I can almost start to make out faces. Their features move in grotesque ways. I want to scream. I want to run. But even if I wasn’t tied to this chair, I’d probably fall flat on my face if I tried.
A man starts talking, announcing the sale of…of me.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, what is this.
Someone shouts from the middle of the room, offering a yacht.
Am I really going to be sold in exchange for a yacht?
My heart beats faster, aching in my chest. I shift my wrists, the restraints cutting against my skin.
As my heart races, my blood pumps faster, and the drugs push deeper into my veins.
That’s when I see him.
With my vision fading again, I see Kristopher walk over to the man whose face I recognize. The man who apparently owns me in this trade.
Kristopher.
I’m seeing things. He can’t really be here.
None of this is real. I’m at home, in bed, exhausted and having a really, really, really terrible dream.
Kristopher is talking to the man in hushed tones. I can barely make out what he’s saying.
For a moment, I lose consciousness.
I’m standing in my best friend's living room, in her brother’s house.
It’s her birthday, and he’s hosting a party for her.
She’s out in the garden, dancing, and I’m staring up at the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“I was just about to get more shots for the birthday girl. Do you want to help me?” he asks.
I muse over the fact that there are a hundred waiters running around in tuxedos, and I’m convinced he’s just looking for an excuse to get me alone somewhere.
So, of course, I wholeheartedly jump at the chance.
I’ve been daydreaming about this man since the first day Jess introduced me to him. Her brother, Kristopher Ilyin, a Bratva king.
I’ve playfully flirted, teasing, my heart racing when he flirted back. His relaxed banter only served to deepen the yearning in my heart. It felt dangerous, but somehow safe. Like he would never hurt me.
But it was all so subtle. Even the glances across the room, that crooked, mischievous smile he would give me, a brush against my dream of tasting his lips. One I thought would never come to life…but suddenly, tonight, things are changing.
To my surprise, Kristopher takes my hand and pulls me after him. Except he doesn’t lead me to the kitchen, but instead down a hallway, away from the party.
I look across his broad back as he leads me, my eyes tracing every muscular curve of his body, his black shirt tightly hugging his perfect form. His sleeves are rolled up over his tattooed forearms.
Two silver studs glint in his ears, adding a hint of rebellion to his otherwise pristine appearance.
Kristopher stops and pulls me forward, then pushes me up against a wall. He has a shadow of stubble over his usually clean-shaven jaw. His eyes are whispering mischief.
My heart is beating so wildly, I feel like it might burst from my chest like a bird flying free.
He touches his finger beneath my chin and tilts my head up as he steps closer to me. I feel every muscle in his chest as he presses his body against mine. My eyes are on his mouth, the perfect shape of his lips, the slightest smile sketched into the corners.
My lips part. I hear a deep moan escape him as he leans even closer.
I can’t believe this is happening.
His mouth presses over mine, and when he kisses me…I’m on fire.
Every cell in my body, every part of me, is suddenly a raging furnace of desire.
He presses his hand into the wall above my head, his arm flexing thick muscles against his shirt, and his body pushes harder into mine.
The kiss intensifies, and I can barely breathe.
I grab his shirt, knotting my fingers in the fabric as though I’m holding on for my life, for my sanity, while he tries to free my mind from itself.
Is this really happening? Am I lying in bed fantasizing? Because I’ve done that a hundred times already. But no. This is real. This is infinitely more magical than I could’ve imagined.
This is the most incredible thing that I could have ever dreamed of happening to me.
For such a beautiful man to kiss me, his body moving over mine.
Kristopher’s cock grows hard against me, and my nerves spike. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never felt a man’s desire like this.
“I want you,” he growls against my lips, his hand sliding up my leg, beneath my dress.
I gasp against his mouth, and it seems to turn him on even more. I feel his cock throbbing harder.
He slides his hand higher, between my thighs, his fingers brushing over my lace panties. Flames burst inside me, and between my legs, heat builds like a wildfire.
He wraps his other hand around my thigh and pulls my leg up against his hip, forcing me to spread them for him. His long fingers curl all the way around my thigh, making me feel small in his hands, like he could do anything to me, and I’d be a puppet beneath his touch.
The heat building between my legs is getting stronger, out of control.
He brushes his fingers over my most sensitive parts, and a strange, desperate sound escapes my lips.
Kristopher slips his fingers beneath my panties, hooking them and pulling them aside.
His touch is slow and soft as he glides his forefinger over my pussy, between my lips, and then pushes his fingers inside me.
My legs want to collapse. I’m weak in the knees and unconsciously rocking my hips against him.
He pushes his fingers deeper into me, and my nails dig into his shoulders as I pull his mouth harder against mine. I’m made bolder by my lust, fueled by feverish desire.
Kristopher hesitates. His hand stops moving, and he lifts his face away from mine.
His pale gray eyes pierce into mine, and he clenches his jaw, muscles rippling along his face.
He looks like he’s fighting for control, and the last thing I want is for him to be in control.
I want him to ravage me. To take me and throw me onto the bed.
I want him to spread me open and do everything he desires. I want to feel him inside me.
But he steps back.
Did I do something wrong?
Horrified, I tug my dress down, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment and rejection.
Did I do something he didn’t like?
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, barely finding my words.
“We can’t do this, Georgie,” he says gruffly. He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. Despite the fact that he’s the one putting a stop to this, I feel disappointment emanating from him. But I could be imagining it.
“We don’t have to stop,” I say, desperation in my voice.
I step towards him again, brushing my fingers over his chest, and he grabs my wrist. He pushes my back against the wall. I squeal in fright.
“No. We can’t do this,” he snarls. “I…I can’t let this happen.”
My cheeks burn a darker, hotter shade of red.
“O-okay….” I stammer, my eyes wild with confusion.
Kristopher turns his back on me and walks away.
This moment, this kiss, will slip into my thoughts almost every night as I lie in bed trying to sleep.
Every night for years, and every time I see him.
Every time my friend mentions her brother’s name, I will remember this moment.
And every time I try to date other guys, I will compare them to the wild, burning desire I have for Kristopher, the unmatched attraction… and they will fall short in comparison.
It’s been years since the kiss happened, yet I’m still obsessing over it in ways I wish I could stop. It’s been driving me crazy.
He distanced himself from me after that night.
It was only a rare occasion when we bumped into each other while I was hanging out with Jess, and an even rarer occasion when Kristopher might message me, possibly even after a few drinks, made braver or more reckless by the alcohol streaming through his veins.
I haven’t been able to figure him out, or what he wants from me.
But ultimately, I think it’s clear that there will never be anything between us.
However, those momentary brushes with him always set my soul on fire all over again, and in the end, make it impossible for me to move on or forget him. Or that kiss.
I blink furiously, fighting for awareness. Kristopher is still talking to that man. Something about Rio Vista. Out in the desert.
They’re discussing territories; Kristopher trying to trade with the man.
That’s when I realize he’s trying to trade for my life. To buy me. As though I were some kind of possession, a commodity to be bought and sold by these men.
Anger bubbles inside me. Anger, confusion, fear…
The drugs are slowly wearing off. My head is still a mess, fighting for clarity, when Kristopher reaches out and shakes the man’s hand.
Next to me, a tall, rat-like man excitedly announces that I have been sold. The trade is complete.
It doesn’t take long for them to cut the restraints around my wrists and ankles and free me from the chair.
I try to stand immediately, lose my balance and fall.
Around me, men laugh, chuckling at my clumsiness.
But Kristopher is right at my side, his arm slipping around my waist as he pulls me against his solid chest.
“I’ve got you,” he growls, low and dark, his voice like a beacon of familiarity in this strange place. His voice is soothing. A safe place. But my instincts are running wild, and nothing feels safe.
I want to lean into him as though he is my rescuer, but I don’t know him anymore. I don’t know this place or the side of him that would be here.
But even with his arm around my waist, I still can’t find my balance, so Kristopher lifts me, and to my horror, he cradles me in his arms.
“Put me down,” I demand, my voice dry and rasping, barely audible.
“Just relax, Georgie,” he mutters. Just relax. It’s Kristopher. It’s him.
“I won’t relax. What the hell is going on?”
“Stop fighting me,” he complains, grabbing at my wrists as I try to push away from him.
The stupid, long, ball gown dress they put me in tangles around my legs and makes it more difficult to fight him.
“Put me down,” I shout again, and the men around us laugh.
My face burns with humiliation.
The auctioneer starts announcing the next item for sale, and hatred and anger burn inside me. I’m so embarrassed, I’m so confused.
I kick against his arm, looped beneath my legs.
Kristopher’s agitation peaks, and he shifts my position, lifting me and slinging me over his shoulder so that he can hold my legs down and stop me from my feeble, weak attempts to kick free.
My body is still not fully in my control. My legs and arms feel sluggish. My head is still spinning.
These stupid drugs, whatever they gave me, are wearing off, but not enough to ease the nausea in my stomach and the horrible fuzzy feeling in my mouth.
My breath shudders as he carries me out into the warm night air.
No one else is outside.
“Stop, Georgie. Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?” he commands roughly.
“You just…you just bought me. Like a thing,” I stammer.
He sighs, tugging his car door open and dropping me into the passenger seat with a soft thud.
I want to keep fighting. My instincts tell me to push the door open again and run. But where to? I don’t even know where I am, and from the looks of it, there is nowhere to hide out there in the open land.
Kristopher climbs into the driver’s seat. He reaches over me and fastens my seatbelt, making sure it’s secure across my chest. I slap his hand away, and a low growl rumbles through me. His eyes pierce into mine, silver gray in the dark light.
He says nothing.
The drive back to the city is long, and my eyes drift closed, then open, then closed. The dark night speeds past my window, and I watch, waiting to see something familiar.
Slowly, the drugs fade from my system.
We eventually pull into the driveway of his mansion. It always astounds me how massive this place is, but in the darkness, it’s something I know. It’s something I understand, so unlike the places I’ve been for the past two days.
Kristopher tugs my door open and offers me his hand. I slap it away, climbing out of the car on my own shaking legs. I stand for a moment, waiting for them to obey me, waiting for my body to be ready to walk.
“Let me help you,” he says gently. His voice brushes over me like warm honey.
“I…I don’t feel that great.”
“They probably pumped you full of sleeping medication. I promise you, after a good night’s rest, you’ll feel a lot better.” He carefully slips his hand around my waist, and this time I don’t fight him. He looks like the Kristopher I know again.
My heart pulses heavily as he half-carries me up the steps, towards the front door and into his home.
“Sir, everything is ready.”
I jump when the other man’s voice booms through the entranceway.
“Good, let’s get it done now,” Kristopher says, guiding me into the dining room, where there is paperwork waiting on the massive wooden table. The other man stands with a pen in his hand, tapping it with his fingers.
“You’ll both need to sign here and here and then…”
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice sounding stronger than before. My head almost fully back to normal, apart from the exhaustion.
“You and I are getting married, Georgie. I need you to sign this document.”
He says it so casually, so calmly, so matter-of-factly that for a moment I just giggle. What a strange joke. What an odd thing to say.
But when his gorgeous eyes lock with mine, I see no smile on his face. Nothing but that serious, deep furrowed frown etched across his forehead.
“I’m not signing that,” I blurt out in disbelief, tears of frustration stinging my eyes.