Chapter 5 – Kat
I was still unsettled with anger as I looked outside the windows several minutes after he left the room.
I was angry at myself for making such a stupid mistake by tampering with a device I knew nothing about. I was angry at my body for refusing to ignore the feel of his touch. I was angry at the proud, annoyingly attractive criminal and the cool confidence with which he spoke.
However, my greatest anger was at the situation itself.
I never thought I would be in the same room with the man who killed my father. But now, I didn’t just set my eyes on him; I was in his fucking house. My situation didn’t just put me in danger; it tied me to the man I should hate the most.
His ridiculous offer of a solution was the icing on the cake.
I dropped the drapes gathered in my hand when I heard the click of the door again.
I was torn between wanting it to be him and hating the very thought of seeing his face again. Although I wanted to yell in his face, I didn’t want him around me.
The door opened, and I turned around as a young man entered the room with a covered tray in his hand.
Food.
It was funny how I didn’t think about food all day when I would have withered if it were any other day.
“Hello,” the man greeted, his dark chestnut eyes blinking once. “I brought you food.”
“Clearly,” I remarked, folding my arms as he went over to the table by the east wall and dropped the tray after slipping some papers from beneath it.
I couldn’t help but swallow as the aroma of whatever was in the tray hit my nose.
“We’re not the enemies,” he uttered as I sat at the edge of the bed.
“Hm, you just brought me here out of charity,” I answered.
He gave a small laugh as he brought a stool to me.
“Far from charity,” he said, placing the papers on the table beside the tray and transporting the tray to the stool in front of me. “You’re in danger. Being here is the only safe choice you have.”
“Did you just say choice? You mean the choice your colleagues made when they grabbed me and hauled me here?”
“I was one of them, actually,” he disclosed, sporting a crooked smile.
I looked up at him with surprised eyes.
“Were you the one who grabbed my ankle or the one who threatened me?”
He laughed again. “Can we cut that part out?”
“Hm, no,” I answered, shaking my head.
He went over to the table and picked up the papers. Handing them to me, he said, “You should sign this.”
It didn’t take three seconds of perusal for me to know what the papers were for.
A marriage license.
I looked up from the papers to find the pen he was passing to me.
“Did he not hear when I told him this wouldn’t happen?” I asked, lifting the papers to him. “I’m not signing any powers.”
“The boss wants you to sign it. There’s never a no with him,” he said, still not taking the papers from me.
“I’ll tear it into shreds if you don’t take it back to him,” I said, making him collect it from me instantly.
He sighed. “Do you need anything else?” he inquired, nodding toward the tray of food.
I opened the tray to see if water was included in the package. “Nope.”
“Okay.”
Once the door locked behind him, I dug into the meal.
Of course, a mansion like this had a massive kitchen that cooks swarmed, producing gourmet meals every day.
The door suddenly opened, and another guy came in.
“Sergei said you wouldn’t sign the papers,” he uttered, half-accusing, half-asking.
He looked older than the guy who brought my food—the Sergei he mentioned—and his fitted black T-shirt showcased his broad chest.
He stepped closer, extending the papers to me.
“I’m not signing any papers. How many more times do I have to say it?”
“Look, you might not want to. But you have to. I mean, I’ll force you if I have to.”
I found it ironic that, although his tone was tight, he sounded more friendly than Sergei, while he was the one subtly threatening me.
“Force me, how?” I spat, a humorless laugh leaving my lips.
“The options are endless,” he answered as he dropped the paper and pen on the bed beside me. “A plier to your toenails. Or your teeth. The molars won’t be noticeable in the wedding picture.”
Holding back my gasp, I grabbed the papers.
“I’m going to burn it. I’ll burn the fucking papers; you have no idea where my lighter is,” I rushed to say, the look of victory on his face changing into one of surprise.
He slid the papers from my hands and picked up the pen.
“You’ll sign,” he told me before walking out the door.
I wondered how many of his men he would send before he got the message.
It felt like the exhaustion from the day’s troubles was waiting for me to eat. I yawned as I pushed the stool away. Part of my relief came from the fact that no one else brought those ridiculous papers to me.
I forced myself to get up from the bed.
I wasn’t disappointed when I opened the bathroom door. The white-walled, tiled room featured a wide sink to the right and a toilet at the far end. To the left, the shower stood tall, surrounded by transparent glass.
I looked around the edges of the bathroom as I stepped inside.
Who knows what kind of pervert their ‘boss’ is.
No bathroom cameras, check.
I rinsed my face at the sink and stared at my tired reflection in the mirror above it. Leaning my palms against the sturdy sink, I let out a huff of breath through my mouth.
My hair wasn’t as frizzy as I thought it was, thanks to the excess conditioner from the day before. My cream-colored shirt, on the other hand, was nothing to write home about. The creases on the satin material were the ultimate pointers of how rough my day had been.
I left the bathroom and rolled to the center of the bed. The smooth sheets and soft mattress lulled me into a state of near unconsciousness amid my circumstances.
***
I opened my eyes and screwed them shut again when everything went silent after the click I thought I heard.
I had heard that sound too many times that my mind was making it up.
Still, I couldn’t get myself to go back to sleep.
I pushed the covers that barely got to my knees off and stomped toward the bathroom.
I came back to stand by the window. Pushing the drapes to the side, the dark sky confirmed it was very early in the morning.
How many more mornings will I spend as a prisoner in this room?
A deep sigh escaped my lips as I let the drapes fall back to their place, and I moved toward the table by the wall, tracing the top with my fingers.
What exactly will happen to me?
Will the Yezhov Bratva decide to kill me since I won’t marry the man who killed my dad?
Will my colleagues at work try to find me when they discover I’ve been absent and unreachable?
The click of the door paused my thoughts. It was loud enough to let me know my mind wasn’t making it up.
The door opened, and Danil Yezhov walked in, papers in hand.
He stopped a few feet away from the door, his cold eyes moving from where I stood by the table to the bed.
In another black suit, he looked as good as he did the day before—maybe slightly better, given his neatly styled black hair that shone brighter than it had the last time I saw it.
“If you’re here for me to sign the marriage license, you can fuck off right now because I won’t do it,” I told him, folding my arms.
He barked out a sarcastic laugh that could have made me feel like an idiot had I not been angry.
“You underestimate me, Miss Wolfe,” he remarked, his voice cool as he brought the papers to the table beside me. “You will either sign them of your own volition, or I’ll make you.”
He dropped a pen on the papers, and that was when I saw that his name and signature were on the last page he turned up.
“I’d like to see you make me,” I fired back, craning my head to meet his eyes.
“Very well, then,” he uttered, his eyes not leaving mine as he took a flat plastic object out of his suit pocket and placed it on the table. He thumbed it open, and the cover fell to the side.
In the two seconds it took me to realize it was an ink pad, his left hand came around me, holding me to his side, while his other hand grabbed mine.
My resistance did nothing to stop him from pressing my fingers into the soft pad and filling the empty signature lines with my fingerprints.
It’s done.
“I know your name. I’ll just help you with that,” he stated.
“Fuck! Are you insane? Who forces someone into marriage in this day and age? Which fucking cave did you come out of?”
I need to tear the papers right now.
I tried grabbing the papers with my inked fingers, but he took them and held them up, well above my reach, taking his 6’2” height into account.
I was furious as I blinked back the stupid tears that stung my eyes. I clawed at his arms that held my body and kicked at him at the same time. He remained as still as a rock as I fought and struggled.
The door opened, and a man entered, standing by the doorway with a smile on his face and the doorknob still in his hand.
“Does the soon-to-be couple need some private time, or can I come in?”
Danil released me and stepped back immediately, taking the papers with him.
With a smirk, he told the guy at the door to come in.
“Who are you?” I asked the guy who opened the door wider.
Before he could respond, Danil spoke up. “He’s a Bratva soldier, and his name is Sava. He’s going to be your shadow from now on; you won’t be alone. His job is to keep you safe and secure.”
“Yeah, right,” I uttered, rolling my eyes at him. “Because that’s your utmost priority.”
He blinked but didn’t say anything as he turned toward the door. “Choose a pretty dress to get married in. It’s once in a lifetime, after all. Besides, I won’t have a tacky bride on my arm.”
“Bride, huh? I’ll pick the ugliest dress. In fact, I’ll kill myself before I get married to a beast like you,” I answered before adding, “And if you weren’t so antiquated, you would know there’s something called a divorce. Once in a lifetime, my foot.”
Even though he was only partially facing me, I could see him shake his head.