Lara
Chapter Seven
T he very man who ended my parents’ life was the same man whose touch had ignited a fire within me.
I was in disbelief, grappling with the reality that I had once begged him to bring me to the peak of pleasure.
How could I have surrendered so easily to a murderer?
The sensations he evoked in me were unlike anything I had ever experienced.
I had explored my own body before, but never had I reached such dizzying heights.
Beyond the shame, a seething anger simmered within me because he had stopped. He had just stopped.
As my hand traced a path down my body, I resolved to finish what he had begun.
Although my touch couldn’t quite replicate his, it offered a semblance of relief.
With my eyes closed, I conjured an image of Dmitri’s hands gliding over my skin.
My fingers found their way to my breast, tweaking my nipple between them while I plunged a finger inside me, feeling the tension build as my muscles tightened around it.
I withdrew my finger, trailing it along my folds and circling my clit before sinking it back inside.
Again and again, I repeated this rhythm, applying more pressure to my nipple as I pinched it between my fingers.
Dmitri’s words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder: “ You are so wet for me. I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll forget your name.”
“Dmitri. Oh, God. Yes”
I surrendered to the waves of my orgasm, releasing a cry so powerful that I was certain it reached the ears of the guard outside.
As the water cascaded down my body and the haze of my release faded, I opened my eyes, tormented by the thoughts that refused to leave my mind.
Overcome by shame, I slid down the tiled wall, wrapping my arms around my knees.
I had no sense of how long I remained there, but the chill of the water jolted me back to reality. Rising from my position, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. When I exited the bathroom, I noticed Marta had left my dinner tray beside the door, as she did every other time.
Even though every meal Marta had brought me had been amazing, this was still a prison. I still had no idea what Dmitri planned on doing to me. He made his presence known only twice in the week he held me captive. But no matter my circumstances, if I wanted to escape, I had to keep up my strength.
After I ate everything on my plate, I did what I did every other night—thought of a way out of here as I stared out the window overlooking the property.
By staring out the window repeatedly, I learned the staff’s comings and goings, and even the guards’ locations.
The staff arrived at 6:00 a.m. sharp every morning and left by 10:00 p.m. Marta was never among them that I could tell, so I assumed she remained at the mansion.
There were a couple of times when men of power came to visit.
I knew this because they were all flanked by guards.
When I had seen enough, I moved over to the bed and pulled the thin blanket over me.
A few minutes later, sleep took over and my world went black.
“You are nothing but a coward, Larissa Zhukov,” Alena spat venomously as she shoved me to the ground, her words slicing through the air like a whip. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”
My heart pounded like a war drum as I sprinted through the echoing halls of Greenville Preparatory School, the laughter of my peers ringing in my ears like a cruel symphony.
I could sense Alena’s relentless pursuit behind me, her entourage of friends trailing like a pack of wolves.
Desperation clawed at me; I had to escape her grasp.
Alena was a bully, a menacing figure whose father ruled as the don of the Carponi family.
Her disdain for me ran deep, fueled by my Russian heritage.
It didn’t matter that I was born in the States; to her, I was still a detested Ruskie.
I pushed myself to keep running, my feet pounding against the floor until I burst through the school’s front doors.
But as I descended the steps, my footing slipped, and I crashed to my knees.
Agony shot up my leg, a fiery reminder of my fall, yet I forced myself to continue.
Tears blurred my vision as I lay on my bed, my knees stinging and smeared with blood.
Papa entered my room, his gaze heavy with disappointment and concern.
He didn’t need to ask what had happened; he already knew.
With a resigned shake of his head, he left, only to return moments later holding a first aid kit.
“Solnishko, little sun , you will never face your demons if you continue to run. Always remember to stand up and face them with courage,” Papa advised softly, his voice a soothing balm as he carefully placed a Band-Aid on my wounded knee.
“Lidia, you need to take Lara out of here. The Antonovs will retaliate. They will stop at nothing until they kill all of us.” My papa’s words were strained and tense as I stood by his office door and listen to him talk to my mama.
“Andrei, what have you done?” Mama asked in a shaky voice.
“I did what had to be done. Why must you always question me? You can’t stay here.” The sound of my papa’s hand coming across my mama’s face surprised me. He had never hit her before.
“What’s happened to you, Andrei?” Mama cried. “We should have done the right thing long ago and told her the truth.”
“I’m sorry, moya lyubov’ , my love,” Papa said regretfully.
Whatever my papa did, it had to have been bad for him to strike my mama. He was always firm with his word, but not once had he ever struck her or me. This was bad. Really bad.
“You should have never gone against Viktor Antonov,” my mother mewled, while I prayed for her to hold her tongue.
“He was going to take Lara. There was no way I was going to let that happen,” Papa hissed. “Not when I had different plans for her.”
“What about what you agreed to?” Mama reminded him. “Have you forgotten what he would do if you ever betrayed him?”
“I don’t care how much money we owe him or our agreement. He will never marry her.”
“No, no, no! Stop. Go away.”
“My kukolka, I’ve found you. Now it’s time for you to die, just like your father.” Dmitri lifted the hand with the tattoo of a dagger ripping through a skull from top to bottom and pointed at my head.
Bang!
I jolted up from the bed, my screams of terror filling the room. I hadn’t experienced a night terror since Dmitri took me from my apartment. Then again, if I had my risperidone, the memory from three years ago would have remained in the past.
The bedroom door flew open with a concerned expression splashed across Dmitri’s face. It was the first time I had ever seen him show anything other than disgust for me. I pulled the cover up to cover my nearly exposed breasts and stare at him.
“What did I tell you about covering yourself, kukolka?” Dmitri took hold of the blanket and ripped it from my hands.
“You know, I have a name. It’s Lara, not kukolka ,” I hissed, ignoring his demand.
“I think I like kukolka better. It suits you,” he replied, raking his eyes over my body. “Now, tell me what you were screaming about.”
“It was a nightmare. The nightmare you caused three years ago,” I choked, covering my exposed nipples visible through my see-through bra by crossing my arms over my chest.
“You witnessed what happened at your home.” I wasn’t sure if he was asking me or assuming I was there. “Did you see you mother being killed? Your father?”
“I saw you. You killed my mama. You shot her in the head.” The tears fell and I couldn’t stop them. “Why did you have to kill them?”
Dmitri pushed from the door and moved toward the mattress before lowering his body. His eyes held something other than darkness when he looked at me. “I didn’t kill your mother or father. You are sadly mistaken, Lara.”
“It was you. I saw you kill her. I saw the tattoo on your hand.” I pointed to the hand he had draped over his knee, the same one that held the gun that shot my mom.
He lifted his hand and examined the skull and dagger tattoo on the back of his hand. “This is the emblem of the Bratva brotherhood. Every man loyal to the Antonov Bratva has one. It isn’t only I who wears it.”
He lowered his head to mine, and suddenly his lips were on mine.
His tongue delved inside my mouth, making me feel things I shouldn’t for this man—desire, want, need.
I moaned against his lips as he deepened the kiss and his tongue danced with mine.
It was a kiss I never wanted to end. I whimpered in protest as his lips parted from mine.
Lifting the hand that bore the tattoo, he reached out and stroked it along my cheek. “So innocent. So pure. And all mine.”
“I will never be yours.” I pulled my face away from his touch, moving my body out of his reach.
I thought he would find my actions disrespectful and punish me, but instead he stood and gazed down at my body like a hungry animal. “Rest. Tomorrow will be a big day for you.”
~***~
The rest of the night brought no sleep and when the sun came up, I was still awake.
I couldn’t help but think about what Dmitri said about the tattoo on the back of his hand and how all the men of the Bratva brotherhood had one.
I still didn’t trust him. He might not have been the one who pulled the trigger, but he had something to do with the deaths of my parents.
The sound of the door being opened grabbed my attention.
Marta walked in along with another woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of Cosmopolitan Magazine .
Her hair was chocolate brown and cascaded down her back like silk.
She wore a dark blue sheath dress and black stiletto heels.
Her red lipstick matched the red soles of her Louboutins.
“Good morning,” Marta greeted me. She wasn’t holding a tray like she had every other morning, but instead a sundress, which was folded neatly in her hand.
“This is Camile. She will be helping you with your dress this morning. You will be having breakfast with her in the dining room to discuss your wedding with Mr. Dmitri. It is to take place in four weeks.”
“What?” I blurted in disbelieve. “I will never marry that monster.”
“Mr. Antonov thought you might say that. I wished things could have been different.” With a satisfied grin, Marta placed the sundress she was holding on the mattress and opened the door. “Yuri. It’s time.”
Yuri entered the room with a sadistic smile on his face, like he had been waiting for this ever since I had been taken prisoner. Without warning, he scooped me up from the mattress and flung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down.” I pounded my fists against his back as hard as I could without so much as a flinch. “Where are you taking me?”
“To your new home,” he chucked with satisfaction.
Yuri carried me down the black marble staircase and through a grand foyer.
From what I could see of the place where I had been held captive, it was massive.
The ceiling was high, with crystal chandeliers suspended evenly from one another.
Paintings covered the dark walls, which I was certain were all originals.
There were several doors on each side that were closed and some that opened to a large living room and what appeared to be a dining room.
Yuri took me through a labyrinth of hallways before descending a dark staircase.
The further he went down, the colder my body got.
I knew we were under the mansion, in the basement.
Dim lights flickered on and off as he continued to carry me down a musty corridor which was lined with bottles of vintage wines on both sides.
Once we had passed the racks of wine, Yuri pushed open a metal door and stepped through it.
On the other side were four cell like cages—three had a thin, filthy mattress on the floor along with a five-gallon bucket and one had a metal table and a cabinet with medical supplies.
The blood staining the cell floors made my stomach churn, making me realize the amount of torture he inflicted on his prisoners. Prisoners like me. Shit.
Yuri forcefully grabbed me around my waist and shoulder and dropped me onto the thin mattress.
The mattress was so thin, I felt my tailbone hit the hard concrete floor.
Scrambling to my feet, I tried to get to the door before he closed it, but all I got was a hard slap across the face that sent me flying sideways.
“Maybe you should have agreed to marry the boss,” Yuri said as he closed the door and locked it. “If you had, at least you would have gotten a decent meal. Now you will have to wait until tomorrow.”