Katarina
Now
Dropping the open gift bag onto my bed, I take a stumbling step back. Inside is a stuffed toy, a handmade, crocheted eggplant large enough to hold a generously-sized adult toy. Bright purple. It’s the one I’d had back in Chicago. The exact same one. It had been a gift from Killian.
I don’t know how Sasha got hold of it, but this is beyond cruel. She’d practically told me what to expect when she said it was a memento. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I shove my fist into my mouth to stifle the sob. Why the hell did I have to look? Why would she do this to me?
Razors scratch my vocal cords as I hold back the scream. I don’t want the fucking vibrator. I want Killian! Only him! I want my Shorty!
Grief bands around my chest until I can’t breathe.
I pull open the French doors onto a small Juliette balcony, but the humidity offers no relief.
The air is as heavy as the swollen storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
In a room directly below, Vasili and Grigor are talking and Sasha laughs, a sound that often chases me in my nightmares.
My hands tremble as I grip the railing. Sasha’s gift might be what finally breaks me, but I can’t let my uncle question the importance of the vibrator. Despite the pain seeing it again has caused, it’s beyond precious. Irreplaceable.
Whirling around, I’m thankful I’m still wearing the cycle shorts and sneakers from this morning. I race downstairs and past the living space where Vasili and Blackwater Rock’s newest guests catch up over coffee.
“I’m going for a run!” I shout without stopping.
“Alexei, go with her!” barks Vasili.
“Where do you think she’s going to run off to?” Sasha asks, her words laced with amusement. “She can’t escape, Vasili. It’s impossible. The fences are electrified and Eric would have boats waiting if she tried to climb down the cliff face.”
And where would I go if I did make it to the water? I can’t leave without coordinating my escape with outside help, and I don’t have a phone. Realistically, who would come to my rescue? I have a feeling I’ve run out of luck and favors.
I just need a moment to breathe.
Once outside, I break into a run, heading in the opposite direction to the guarded gates.
I might have been tempted to explore the fences separating Eric’s estate from the jungle, but Sasha’s little snipe has saved me the trouble.
I cut across the lawn, back towards the cliffs where our helicopter landed yesterday.
A quick glance over my shoulder confirms Alexei has come outside to follow my progress, but unlike me, he’s not dressed to run in this oppressive heat. He’s not going to pursue me. For a short while at least, I’m free.
Keeping a safe distance from the main villa, I gradually put some distance between myself and the rest of the world. Even the mindless chatter of birds and the hum of insects fall away, replaced by the crash of waves breaking far below.
As I approach the edge of this godforsaken isle, I’m tempted to walk straight off the cliff. I hate being trapped, but staying alive long enough to get revenge on my tormentors has to be worth the misery of my existence. It’s all I have.
I’d be free now if I hadn’t delayed taking up Ash’s offer. If Killian were still alive, he’d be blaming himself for my captivity, but it was my choice to spend more time with him.
Was it the right decision? Would I trade my memories with that mad Irishman for decades of anonymity, waiting for the stars to align so Killian and I could maybe be together?
What kind of question is that?
I’d do anything to go back in time and choose differently. I wouldn’t be on this wretched island. And Killian would still be alive.
I scream into the void. And I scream some more. I just want Killian’s arms around me one more time. Just once. That’s all.
“Fuck freedom! Fuck revenge! I want my Irishman!” I yell, my voice scratched and broken. “Tell me you’re waiting for me.”
As I teeter on the edge of the cliff, the only response is the sound of waves crashing over jagged rocks far below. There are no trades to be had.
“Damn you, Killian McConkey. You drove me mad and I drove you crazy, but together…” I tip my head up to the pewter sky. “Together we were beautifully insane.”
I don’t want to be here. I certainly don’t want to belong to another man. If I were to take a running jump, there’s a chance I’d miss the rocks. Sure, there’s nothing but ocean to swim towards if I did survive the fall, but still worth a try.
The wind picks up and there’s the mournful cry of a gull soaring high above me.
I close my eyes, my body swaying as I stretch out my arms and feel the first heavy raindrops splash against my cheeks, mingling with my tears.
In less than a minute, I’m consumed by the tropical storm that sweeps across the island.
The pelting rain slaps my face and I drop my head, but I stay where I am. How long would it take for this section of cliff to erode? Or would it break off in one complete section? Would I still be standing here so it could take me with it?
As I consider whether or not falling onto the rocks would be a peaceful or violent death, I hear a buzzing sound that doesn’t belong to any insect. The buzz transforms into the roar of an engine. Not a car. A motorcycle.
I could ignore it, but I don’t like not knowing who’s coming up behind me.
Alexei might have access to the vehicles in Eric’s underground garage.
It won’t be Vasili. He wouldn’t come out into the storm and ruin his clothes.
I consider the possibility of it being Grigor or Sasha, but I’m not entirely surprised when I turn to find Eric skidding to a stop a few feet away.
His white t-shirt is plastered to his soaking wet body. Biceps rippling.
“Get on!” he shouts over the howling wind, extending his hand.
I peel locks of hair from my face that have escaped my ponytail. “I’ll walk back!”
“Don’t make me pick you up, Katarina! Get on the bike!”
So, he wants to play the hero. I should tell him the bar is pretty high. Killian laid down his life for me.
When I approach the Ducati, Eric twists, assuming I need help climbing on. Little does he know I’ve raced up and down mountains on motorcycles and practiced mounting and dismounting for high-speed getaways. I once broke my wrist jumping onto the back of a moving bike.
But I let Eric underestimate me as I take his offered hand to ride pillion behind him. I’m careful to keep our bodies as far apart as possible, resting my hands on my knees. Eric immediately grabs my hands to bring my arms around his waist, tugging so I’m pressed against his back.
“Hold tight,” he says, patting my clasped hands. “I’ll give you a tour.”
Not waiting for an answer, he revs the engine and wheels spin in the mud before he speeds off with a jolt.
The rain stings my face and I can only presume Eric’s familiar with the lay of the land because the rain is torrential and I can’t see a fucking thing.
I turn my head and spit out locks of my hair.
Eric eases off the throttle and pats my hands. “You’re OK. Relax a little.” He repositions my grip so my palms are flat against his stomach. His abdominal muscles are defined and taught. Is this where I’m expected to swoon?
“Not bad for your age,” I shout.
I might not have noticed the flinch if I hadn’t been pressed against him.
Is Eric Peterson a sensitive soul who doesn’t like to be reminded of his advancing years?
It’s a shame he’s about to marry the kind of girl who’s going to take every opportunity of mentioning their thirty-year age difference until he wishes he’d left her on that cliff.
Eric recovers quickly and howls with laughter. “Oh, you’re in for a surprise, Kitty Kat.” It’s my turn to flinch, but Eric is too busy trying to convince me of his youth to notice my reaction to my new pet name. “I have the stamina of a man half my age.”
Half his age would still be a few years older than me, but if he’s going to start calling me Kitty, he might not see his next birthday. Not that the chances were high to begin with having me as his bride.
As we speed across the lawn, Eric points out the gated entrance appearing through the grey curtain of rain.
“That’s the only road down to the dock. There are guards at the gate twenty-four-seven and the electrified fence circles the rest of the estate.
The voltage isn’t lethal, but we train all our staff how to use defibrillators just in case. ”
Is this a safety announcement or a warning?
We continue our ride past a stretch of the fence that must be twenty feet high, the bike skimming dangerously close at one point.
Rather than pleading with Eric to steer us to safety as might be expected, I’m currently wrestling with the kind of intrusive thought that can get a girl into trouble.
What would happen if I touched the fence?
Lifting a hand off Eric’s rippling abs, I stretch out my arm, fingers extended. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but I feel the sizzle of electricity traveling through the damp air towards my fingertips. Eric swerves sharply, and I’m forced to grab hold of his t-shirt to steady myself.
“The only other way to leave would be jumping off the cliff,” Eric continues as if I hadn’t just tried to fry us both. “But no one’s ever been able to clear the rocks.”
He’s priming me to ask who tried, but I don’t take the bait. “Why are you telling me this?”
“As my wife, it’s important you understand the boundaries of our relationship. I thought we’d begin with the simple stuff,” he says as the rain starts to ease. “This is your forever home, Katarina. All you have to do is let me take care of you.”
The tropical storm passes quickly, and by the time Eric pulls up outside the guest villa, the sun is back to full strength and steam rises from my tank top. I jump off the Ducati before Eric cuts the engine, and while he rests the bike on its kickstand, I head for the door.
He catches me up, an arm circling me so he can spin me around. “A thank you would be nice.” he says in a gentle but warning tone.
“Didn’t my uncle tell you? I’m not nice.”
Eric smirks, closing what little space there is between us. “Good. I like bad girls.”
His low, seductive tone might work on some, but not me. I keep my expression bored as I open my mouth, but before I can deliver a parting shot, he pinches my chin. He keeps my jaw pressed down as he smothers my lips with his and his tongue darts into my mouth.
I make a half-hearted attempt to play my part and kiss him back. As much as I hate it here, I don’t really want to go back to Siberia if he rejects me. I need more time to consider my options. Something other than jumping off the cliff, although I haven’t completely ruled it out.
While he plunders my mouth, I go to the darkest corners of my mind, detaching myself from the act I’m obliged to perform.
I must be doing something right because Eric releases my chin and wraps his fist around my ponytail.
He tilts his head one way, mine the other, his tongue probing deeper until it’s almost at the back of my throat.
My gag reflex is normally very good, but Eric is erasing Killian’s kisses and I swallow bile.
Eric pulls away, but retains his grip on my ponytail, tugging it like a leash. “Either work on improving your acting skills, Kitty Kat, or better still, give yourself permission to experience pleasure.”
I try not to shudder as Eric trails a finger down my neck and over my clavicle.
His eyes narrow as he continues his explorations to the curve of my breasts, his fingertip drawn to one of my prominent nipples poking through my damp tank top.
As he circles it, he doesn’t acknowledge the shadow moving in our periphery, not until he’s finished mapping out my body.
“I should speak to your uncle about finding a guard who can actually keep you out of trouble,” he says, glancing briefly towards Alexei. “But you’ll be under my protection soon enough.”
Protection or control, I want to ask, but I think I already know the answer to that one.
Rain drips from Eric’s hair as he presses a kiss to my hand, his lips lingering over my wedding finger. “I want you to spend the afternoon indulging in some beauty treatments. A beautiful woman like you doesn’t suit ugly nails. I want you perfect for our wedding day, my love.”
I offer a wicked smile. Finally, something we can agree on. I’m long overdue a manicure. I’ve missed my claws.