Lara
Chapter Twenty-One
D mitri was nowhere to be found when I ventured downstairs. I didn’t realize how late it was until I got to the kitchen and saw Marta already preparing lunch. The minute she saw me. I knew something was wrong. She was pissed. Like she knew I had done something, which I had.
“Good morning, Marta,” I said, glancing at the clock on the microwave that indicated it was still morning.
“Breakfast has been over for some time,” she replied sarcastically. “But there are Danishes still left.”
“A Danish sounds wonderful,” I smiled as I walked past her toward the coffeepot.
Marta set a small plate down with a cream Danish in front of me, before pulling it away just to grab my attention. “I know you have it. If you don’t want to get both of us into trouble, you will give it back before Dmitri finds out.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about.” I took hold of the plate in one hand and held my cup of coffee in the other. “I think I’ll have my breakfast in the conservatory.”
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Marta knew. She knew what I had done. But the way she talked, it sounded like she would be in as much trouble as me if Dmitri found out I had her phone. Maybe there was a rule about the staff having cell phones on the property. If she asked about it, it also meant she hadn’t found it yet.
I had to come up with a plan real soon. The battery on Marta’s cell phone wasn’t going to last forever and I had no way of charging it.
After eating my Danish, I decided to clear my head by taking a walk around the gardens.
I hadn’t seen Dmitri all day, which, in a sense, was a good thing.
Whenever he was around me, my defenses against him weakened.
Every moment I spent with him I found myself wanting to be around him more and more.
I missed him. Stop thinking that way, Lara. He was a murderer.
There was only so much time I could spend outside, so after getting my fill of the warm sunshine and the fragrance of the beautiful flowers, I headed back inside.
Not watching where I was going, I ran straight into a wall of steel—the steel wall being Dmitri. He took hold of my arms and steadied me before I tumbled backward.
“You’re back.” I looked up at him, noticing how tired he looked.
“You need to pack a small bag. We leave in an hour.” Dmitri turned on his heels with no other explanation.
“Wait.” I reached out and took hold of his arm. “You can’t just leave and tell me to pack a bag without telling me where we are going.”
“All you need to know is you need to be ready in an hour.”
Dmitri placed a kiss on my forehead and left me standing with no answer as to where he was taking me. I hated being treated this way, but instead of pushing the issue, I decided to choose my battles. I would find out where we were going soon enough.
Dmitri must have already packed a bag because by the time I came down the stairs with my small suitcase, his was already sitting on the marble floor next to the front door.
He still hadn’t told me where we were going, but it was evident that given his conversation with Stepan in Russian, he wanted to keep our destination from me. It was starting to piss me off.
When he emerged from his study, I let him know just how much. “Unless you tell me where the hell you’re taking me, I’m not moving.”
“I don’t have time for your childish games, Lara,” he mused.
“Then maybe you should have married someone your own age,” I quipped, provoking him further.
I wondered what kind of punishment he would dole out once we got to wherever it was, we were going. Either way, I wasn’t moving.
“I guess, I have no choice but to carry you.” Without warning, Dmitri, took hold of my arm and effortlessly slung my body over his shoulder.
The skater skirt I wore exposed my ass not only to Stepan but to all the staff.
Thankfully. I wore panties instead of a thong and my ass cheeks were somewhat covered.
“Put me down.” I demanded, pounding my fists against his back.
“Not until you are in the vehicle.” His hand came across my ass with a sudden strike. “Now hold still.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Dmitri lowered me into the car and took a seat beside me. I was so angry at him, but more than that, I was angry at myself for allowing him to control me this way.
I kept quiet while Dmitri spent most of the ride on his phone. When Stepan had brought the SUV to a stop alongside a black jet, I knew wherever we were going warranted a plane ride. Stepan grabbed our suitcases while Dmitri and I got out of the vehicle and headed inside the jet.
Once inside, I was taken aback by the richly detailed interior.
It was by far the most luxurious plane I had ever been inside.
The seating was black leather with red stitching.
The walls carried the same black and red theme, with the molding being highlighted in red.
There was a mini bar off to the right toward the back of the jet with a small hallway to its left, which I was certain led to a small bedroom.
My papa had commissioned jets like this, but nothing this grand.
It was clear Dmitri didn’t just rent this jet, he owned it.
“Make yourself comfortable. We have a long flight,” Dmitri divulged as he walked over to the minibar.
“Where?” I asked again, hoping this time he would give me a straight answer.
“Cuba.”
Cuba, What the fuck ?
There are only two things that happen in Cuba: drugs and human trafficking.
“Are you going to sell me?” I asked with a shaky breath.
Dmitri whipped his head toward me like my question was an insult. Closing the gap between us, he placed his hand on my cheek and brought his lips to mine.
“I would never sell something as precious as you. You are mine and no one touches what is mine.”
As reassuring as his words were, I wasn’t his. I belonged to no one, least of all him.
“We are ready to take off, Dmitri,” Stepan’s voice sounded behind us.
Dmitri took hold of my hand and led me to one of the four seats facing each other. After buckling me in, he sat down next to me and fastened his own seatbelt.
I could hear the engines roar and the wheels roll against the tarmac. I wasn’t sure what airstrip we were at, but it wasn’t JFK Airport or LaGuardia. I had no idea where we were. For all I knew, Dmitri probably owned a private airport, too.
Four hours later, I was in Havana, Cuba, in a five-star hotel looking out at the ocean.
It was the first time I had ever been here and had I known I was going to be so close to a beach, I would have packed a swimsuit.
No matter, because there was a cute little boutique in the lobby.
I could just go down there and buy one and charge it to the room.
It would serve Dmitri right for not telling me where we were going before we left.
Besides, what did he expect me to do, stay in the suite while he was gone for who knew how long?
Yuri sat on the leather sectional, looking at his cell, when I walked back inside the suite. He was my babysitter until Dmitri and Stepan returned.
“I want to go down to the boutique in the lobby to buy a swimsuit.” I told him as I stared down at his burly form.
“I’m not sure Dmitri wants you to leave the room,” he replied, still looking at his cell.
“He never said I couldn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest, defiantly not backing down on this. “You can follow me or not. Your choice.”
Yuri rose from the couch, typing something on his cell. It was probably a text to Dmitri letting him know I wanted to go to the boutique. What a big tattletale.
Not only did I buy a swimsuit, but I also bought the sexiest one they had.
I didn’t care that Yuri had texted Dmitri a photo of it and he had warned me not to buy it.
It was my body, my choice. There wasn’t much to it other than two triangles to cover my breasts, a triangle to cover my mound, and another to cover my butt cheeks.
It was black, very shiny, and held together with two strings that secured the top and two that secured the bottom.
With a sheer cover-up, a pair of flip-flops, some cute sunglasses, sunscreen, and a towel, I was ready to head on down to the pool and sip on one of those tutti-fruitti drinks vacationers always drank. Might as well enjoy myself while I was here.
Finding a perfect place to soak up the sun, I spread my towel across the lounger and slipped out of my cover-up.
As I settled in, the waiter brought me a Bahama Mama, which I told him to charge to the room.
Taking a sip, my taste buds were in heaven.
I thought I might have found my new favorite drink.
Yuri was still watching over me, but I could tell he was uncomfortable having to look at me in the ninety-degree weather while wearing a suit. Even in the shade, I could see the sweat beads rolling down his cheek. The man should at least take off his suit jacket. Maybe it was against the rules.
“ Hola, Senorita. Eres una mujer muy hermosa ,” a young man, roughly my age, remarked as he gracefully sat down on the lounger beside me.
His appearance was striking, with chiseled features that reminded me of Maxi Iglesias, only younger, with an added layer of muscular definition that hinted at athletic prowess.
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak Spanish,” I replied, my voice tinged with shyness.
“Aw. You are American. I was just telling you how beautiful you are,” he said, reaching over with a confident ease. He gently took hold of my hand, lifting it to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss.
“Thank you,” I murmured, turning my head swiftly to pick up my drink from the side table, hoping to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. Compliments like that were rare for me, and the warmth of his words lingered.