Chapter 10 - Katya
I don’t think it’s possible for me to hate Sergey more than I do right now, but somehow, he continues to push the boundary. He continues to push me closer to completely exploding on him.
After encroaching on my life and everything I made for myself, he has the gall to not only text Roland on my behalf, but also to threaten to do even worse.
I genuinely don’t want him to worry, but I don’t want him to think I’ve tossed him aside and didn’t care enough to give him a heads-up.
On one hand, I hope Roland sees through the text and comes searching for me anyway, just to get me away from Sergey. But on the other hand, I don’t want him to get involved. Not when the man I’ve been forced to marry seems hellbent on keeping me for himself.
It’s insane. The idea alone is a reminder that I need to get as far away from him as possible.
And yet…my torturous body reacted differently when he said it.
He claimed me so openly and without hesitation, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, it stirred something in me. Warmed me in a way I’ve never felt before.
But that’s crazy—he’s being crazy.
Before, I wanted to believe he was doing all of this just to get back at Yuri, but now, I know that isn’t entirely the case.
Now I know without a doubt that it’s because of me. Because he has created some absurd fantasy in his head due to stalking me for God knows how long.
It’s delusional, and I shouldn’t be doing anything he says. I shouldn’t listen and pick out something nice to wear.
But I don’t have much of a choice.
Given all of the designer things he had ordered for me, I don’t exactly have any undesirable options. Even the sleepwear could seem like an intentional statement piece if I really felt like it.
All the while I pull on a black dress with thin straps that cross over in the back, I remind myself that this isn’t for him. If anything, it’s for me.
And if he’s going to force me to go out with him, then I’m going to do whatever I can to feel confident enough to resist him.
Once I’m ready with my hair done as much as I can be bothered to, I find the bedroom door unlocked, and Sergey is already waiting in the hallway.
He leans a shoulder against the wall like he has nothing better to do while he absently scrolls through his phone, but the second he sees me, a small grin curves his lips. It’s almost like he knew what one I’d choose before I even knew myself.
As much as I hate saying it to even myself, he looks good.
Dressed in dark slacks and a white button-down that’s carelessly undone by several buttons, showing off the edges of tattoos around his chest, he looks ready for a night out.
The watch on his wrist glints under the light, making him look even more expensive.
“You clean up nice,” he comments, eyeing me again while he straightens himself out and puts his phone away. “I’m not used to seeing you in much else other than coveralls.”
I glare at him slightly, well aware that he has surely seen me in more when I didn’t know he was watching me.
“I’d rather be in a garbage bag.”
“I can arrange that…but that might spoil the night,” he hums, gesturing down the hall. “Shall we?”
Still unimpressed by him, I don’t say anything while we go. I don’t have to, fortunately.
With no other choice but to comply, we walk out of the house, and the car waiting for us outside is sleek and dark, like it was freshly washed and polished. The driver opens the door for us wordlessly.
I slide into the back seat without thanking him, even if I normally would in a different set of circumstances. Sergey joins me a second later, and the door shuts behind us with a low thump. The silence between us is stifling.
Casually, he stretches an arm across the back of the seat, invading more of my space than I appreciate, but still without touching me.
Irritated, I try to shift closer to the door, hoping to push away the smell of his cologne and aftershave, regardless of how nice it is.
“Where are we going?” I ask quietly.
“Out. To have fun.”
I huff to myself, but it lacks genuine amusement. “Because taking your kidnapping victim out for the night is ideal.”
“You’re still mad about that?” He asks more flippantly than I appreciate.
Glancing at him, I maintain that irritation like it’s the only thing I know. “Are you kidding?”
“Kat,” Sergey begins, saying my name with annoying softness. I swear he resists the urge to reach out to me. “I’m keeping you safe.”
“You’re keeping me prisoner.”
“Semantics…it’s all a matter of perspective,” he says with a shrug.
I try to keep the frustration from boiling over inside me, but he makes it incredibly difficult.
Eventually, the car slows on the Vegas strip, pulling into the private lot of a club. From the inside, it looks far more elegant than some of the other buildings nearby. It’s full of sharp angles, soft, glowing signs, and screams absolute luxury.
It looks like a place my dad would’ve gone to before in his downtime, where business took place behind the scenes.
Overall, the place looks powerful. Made by someone who knows what they’re doing.
I don’t even need to ask if it’s one of theirs. Of course it is.
Once we head inside, the air changes instantly, smelling like leather, money, and high-end perfume.
The lighting is low but warm, flickering over velvet booths and dark, moody tables. The music pulses low and dark, almost like it’s trying to creep into your bones.
It’s gorgeous and not at all like the usual sleazy clubs around the area.
I hate that I notice it, and I hate that I even care.
Before anything, Sergey leads us to a booth with a perfect view of the entire room. Of course. He screams control freak.
He slides into the semicircle booth, gesturing for me to follow. I don’t want to, but I do anyway, well aware of the scene he’d likely cause if I didn’t, which would only result in me coming out as the uptight one.
I feel trapped in the plush seat next to him, and the moment one of the servers rushes over to help us, Sergey orders without even asking what I want.
It’s another power play. Everything is with him.
Still, the drinks arrive soon after. Neat whiskey, almost like he assumes I wouldn’t be seen dead with a frilly drink.
Not that I’d oppose something fruity, but in this moment, I’d rather he not treat me like I’m delicate. So, I can’t complain too much about his choice.
He slides one to me easily enough, keeping his eyes on me without saying much of anything.
I sip it slowly, letting the burn distract me from the fact that I’m stuck with him.
Him and his light green eyes that catch the light while he takes in our surroundings. Or the freckles across his nose that seem more noticeable than usual.
“To a new chapter,” Sergey says, lifting his glass.
But I don’t touch my glass to his. “Don’t try toasting to something one of us signed up for.”
“Well, technically, you did.”
“Semantics,” I echo from earlier, eyes narrowing at him slightly.
He chuckles at the callback, then sips his whiskey before setting it down again. “Sharp.”
“I can be even sharper if you’d like.”
“You say that so affectionately,” Sergey teases, grinning at me like we’re on a date instead of me being held hostage by his whims.
In response, I down half the drink, allowing the fire moving down my throat to keep my anger in check.
He watches with a mixture of amusement and something more intense, then he hums. “You’re stubborn.”
“And you’re delusional.”
This makes his lips pull tighter, showing his subtle dimples. Leaning in slightly, he watches me closely, almost like I’m something to be figured out.
“You don’t like playing house…fine,” he says, tone placating. “But don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the game.”
“There is no game.”
“Then why are you still next to me, allowing me to get close?” He asks, acting like he’s onto something. Onto me.
“Because I can’t leave. Don’t play dumb.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” he murmurs, absently moving his glass between his fingers. “But what’s stopping you from getting up and running right now? From screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping someone might come to your aid?”
There’s a challenge in his words, and it bothers me.
He does have a point. I could scream. I could alert everyone in this place that I’ve been pulled from my life and forced to cooperate.
Of course, there has been a heavy dose of coercion here. But am I forced to cooperate?
Not looking too deeply into it, I take notice of the subtle charge between us instead. The way he looks me over, maintaining that proximity that both makes my skin crawl and feels too tempting at the same time.
I hate how easily that tension moves in like a cold front. How electric it is.
I’m trapped and furious, yet something traitorous inside me still responds to it like I’ve never known anything different.
He knows it too, which is why he’s testing me.
Pulling in a subtle breath, I try to ignore him and the irritating feelings moving through me.
Then, Sergey exaggerates a sigh. “Maybe you should try. It’s not like you belong in a place like this anyway, right?”
My brows pinch together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He grins again and brings the glass to his lips. “You clearly have been running away from places like this for a long time now…maybe you’re just too innocent for this kind of scene.”
Something in my gut twists at that. He has hit a soft spot without even realizing it.
I swallow discreetly, refusing to let my inexperience show. He’s just aiming blindly. It’s not like he knows about it.
“You don’t know me then.”
Sergey chuckles. “I know you’re tough, and you certainly work hard to put up a front, but this world? It requires a certain kind of person to survive it. You haven’t been tested yet. Admit it, you’re out of your depth here.”
That does it.
I may have shied away from the life my family planned for me, but I’ve been tested before. I’ve seen things Sergey likely assumes I never have. And while I’m not in the same league when it comes to romantic experiences, that doesn’t mean I’m incapable.
He just doesn’t need to know that part yet.
Throwing back the rest of my drink, I stand, feeling his gaze intensify on me.
Sergey instinctively goes to reach for me to rein me back in, but I pull my hand away, feeling as the booze pulls away my inhibitions.
“You want to see the opposite of innocence? Fine,” I utter, moving away from him and the booth.
Despite the obvious objection hanging off his tongue, he relinquishes and lets me go, but keeps his gaze on me, pretending not to be on alert.
Almost like he doesn’t believe me, he cocks a brow at me. “Alright…do your worst.”
With the challenge in mind, I don’t know where I’m going, but I keep moving anyway. Getting away from Sergey feels like a triumph in itself, but in the moment, I’m more concerned about proving myself. At winning this unspoken game.
I catch a guy at the bar watching me, not in the way Sergey does, but with subtle interest instead. It’s enough.
Without hesitation, I walk straight up to him and lean against the bar.
The guy is tall with broad shoulders, and his face is nice enough to put Sergey on edge. He leans in when I approach and welcomes the conversation.
Not even hearing much of what I’m saying, I flirt with him. Lightly, at least. It’s meaningless, but it should do the trick at least.
My skin feels tighter than usual, and my heart thuds, but not for the man in front of me. No…it’s thanks to the heat in Sergey’s eyes from behind. I don’t have to look back to know it.
Given how intense he has been about Roland so far, I can only imagine this is killing him.
I don’t know why I feel inclined to torment Sergey in this way, but I don’t want to stop. Even if I don’t care about this perfect stranger or any repercussions for this.
He assumes he knows all, but he doesn’t know me. Not in the ways he thinks he does.
The man’s hand slides over to my waist, and I risk a glance over my shoulder.
Sergey hasn’t moved from his spot. Instead, his eyes are nearly burning while he watches, drinking me in with an unreadable expression. His jaw stays tight with one hand clenched around his glass like he’s barely restraining himself.
Good. Let him stew in it.
Let him see that he doesn’t have me entirely figured out.