When I wake up, I keep my eyes closed for a few more beats. I hear nothing. The last thing I remember is V telling me “Hate fucking is fun too” as if I’m interested in him. Just because he’s gorgeous, dominant, and sure about every choice doesn’t mean I’m going to fall all over myself. Even if his scar might need a few kisses to finish healing.
V is the same idiot who launched me into two years of hell because he stood me up for a laugh. He’s the same jerk who let others pick on me in front of him after promising me that nothing would change when he went to high school.
He was the same guy I was willing to get in trouble to see just for him to make it worse by encouraging those ideas and never sharing blame.
Which means I need to get out of here because his damn charm is sneaky, conniving, and as lethal as the predator you don’t see until it’s already pounced.
I open my eyes, wait for the world to come into focus, then sit up. I rub my forehead. I make a mental note not to let anyone close to me because, V has obedient friends now. Friends much worse than when we were in high school.
Glancing around, I pause. I’d never been to V’s house, but I knew he had money. The kind of room I’m in says he’s more than rich. He’s wealthy. The old kind. Which explains the gold frames around beautiful works of art, the stark white walls, the red rug below my feet, and the wood accents. I have no doubt this room costs more than years of my rent.
I stroke over the bedspread and then do it again just to feel the silky fabric under my fingers. Everything is beautiful, ornate, and over the top. A humble brag without a word being spoken.
Maybe I’d like V more if he was like this room.
I get to my feet, stumble a little, then regain my footing. First things first; I need to call for help.
Groping my hips, I don’t find my phone. I feel again, just to make sure, then groan. “Shit.”
Okay, skipping that and on to plan two: escape. Rather than going to the door, I head to the window. I push the thick curtain to the side and realize I’m on the second floor of a mansion. There are sprawling gardens outside my window and a large fountain, but below me ... it looks almost like thorns.
“Of course,” I huff, pulling the curtain back so I don’t have to see the spotlights on the garden or the frustrating lack of escape.
I open one door, find a closet, and close it. The next door is a luxury bathroom better than any I’ve ever seen. There’s a gorgeous marble walk-in shower with gold accents, a vanity, and another window.
Peeking out, that one proves there’s no escape there.
Taking a slow breath, I go to the last door and turn the crystal knob. I peek out, then open the door further. There’s just a long empty hallway that leads to an open space before another hallway. I step into the hall, then continue.
Maybe he’s so cocky he didn’t think he’d need help.
Just as I reach the stairs, someone speaks. “Your girl’s awake!”
“Go home, Danya,” V answers.
His brother? If Danya is here, I’m sure Ed isn’t far behind. Twins travel in packs, right?
“Ana is upset with you,” Danya informs anyway. “No one wants to be close to her when she’s on the rampage. She’s almost as scary as you.”
V? Scary? Impossible.
I scuttle back to my room and shut the door. I fumble for a lock, but it’s missing. Crap! Glancing around, I notice there’s something else on the bed. A nightgown and robe. Both are sheer with lacy trim. They’re sexy, black, and ridiculous.
“Knock, knock,” V calls before walking in. Our eyes meet, but this time he doesn’t have a smile for me. He leans against the doorway. “You got farther than I thought you would, even if it took longer.”
“You can’t just keep me here.”
“I want to,” he replies. “It’s what’s best for you.”
“How can you say-”
“You don’t like the pajamas I chose for you?” he interrupts. “Maybe it’s good you didn’t put it on. Danya and Ed would have had something to say.”
“What? That you’re a cad?” I sputter.
“Good word, a little outdated. Did you learn it from college or dirty girl books?” He asks with a smirk.
Watching him feels like the best answer. He likes to talk.
V shuts the door behind him after a moment, then sighs. “We’re alone. The twins left.”
“Fantastic,” I say. “When do I get that privilege?”
“You’re focused on the wrong thing, Sienna. Enjoy the luxury. Treat this like a vacation.”
“It’s a hostage situation,” I argue.
“So are some vacations. You used to tell me you felt kidnapped when your parents took you to Tennessee to visit family. You always said you’d prefer some place with history and friends. A place you could be yourself. This can be that place.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper. He doesn’t get to bring up past conversations that his actions tainted.
“That’s an option,” he says, as he doesn’t look away from my lips. “I won’t make you beg for it, either. You just have to admit you want to fuck me.”
My mouth falls open. He has to be kidding. V crosses the space between us and shuts my mouth. “Now you’re just giving me ideas. Check the closet for more clothes. I tried to get your size. Dinner’s waiting.”
With that, he walks out.
When I spend fifteen minutes just sitting there, V reappears. He arches an eyebrow, the smile gone again. “Do I need to escort you down?”
“No,” I say.
He leaves again and I look through the clothes, making sure that the hangers move in case he’s listening. I find something that’s not plunging or formal and pull it on. At least I can run in this. I’ll need to.
I join V outside of the room and he leads me down, talking about the décor and all the things I can enjoy. I think he mentions a pool or a sauna or something, but I’m planning my escape.
Replacing my phone will be easy. Finding out where I am and getting home without the phone will be harder. When we cross the front door, I dart towards it.
V gets there first, spins me, and presses my back to the door as he glowers down at me. One of his hands claims my wrist, holding it over my head while the other presses right by my ear.
He takes a slow, controlled breath. “You’re trying my patience, Sienna.”
“You crossed the line. I don’t belong here and-”
“If I say you belong here, you do. I’m the king of the fucking castle. Might as well be the god of Miami.”
I scoff. “God complex much?”
“You’re right,” he says, pressing his body against mine until I feel every muscle move as he shifts. Something hot ignites low in my belly. I’ve never had a man like V take control like this. Hell, I’ve never had a man like V look my way. He leans in closer. “God is merciful, limits himself, and accepts everyone. I’m much, much worse than that.”
“V,” I whisper.
“Lev,” he corrects. “It’s Lev now.”
“A new name doesn’t mean a new you,” I hiss at him.
“I’m well aware. If I was a new me, you wouldn’t be turned on right now. You wouldn’t be holding still or letting me break your “no touch” rule. I’m not some validation-hungry teenager, and you’re not in braces and sweater vests.”
Swallowing hard, I try to look away, but his nose brushes mine. “Since so much has changed, we’re going to have a proper dinner, since I know caterers don’t get fed, and we’re going to catch up like old friends.”
“Why would I do that?”
He sighs and eases away a few inches. “Let’s say you get out this door–I have guards. Let’s say you get past the guards. We’re far from the venue. Let’s say you reach a neighbor’s house and mention me, they’ll call and return you. You will end up here because I want you here.”
“You ... you.”
“Normally, I’d let you leave, chalk this up to a bad night, but a decent attempt at fixing things. These aren’t normal circumstances and whether or not you believe me, this is the safest place for your cute ass,” he says, releasing me. “Dinner?”
What the hell have I gotten into?
“A few days?” I ask, following him against my better judgment.
“Yes. I should have everything taken care of within a week. If you want to leave then, you can,” he replies before pulling out a heavy-looking regal chair at an enormous table.
I sit, and he guides the chair in place before sitting next to me. As the food is served, his words catch up to me. “Of course, I’ll want to leave.”
“You have the option to enjoy yourself. If you get restless, I’ll take you shopping, maybe to the beach. You’d enjoy this if you let yourself.”
“I’m sitting next to the one person I hate. You keep giving me more reasons to want to escape, not stay,” I bite out.
Lev watches me, then looks me over. “You’re very sassy for someone being pampered.”
“Because I didn’t choose this.”
“I know.”
“So, why am I being punished?”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word, Sienna. I’d be happy to teach you. I can dismiss my staff, bend you over the table, and spank you until you recognize the difference between kindness and punishment.”
My throat tightens and I stare at my full plate. I need to get my body under control. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid, more than a while, but the idea of Lev spanking me shouldn’t be appealing. It would hurt, it’s demeaning, it’s ... making me shift in my seat to hide the growing lust radiating through my body.
“That’s what I thought. Eat.”
We eat in silence for a while. It’s uncomfortable, filled with expectations and unsaid things. I can play pretend though. “What have you been up to?”
“Business. My father named me heir to the company. I thought it would be easy in high school. Now I learn it’s more than a job, it’s a life,” he says.
“I thought your older sister-”
“Irina wasn’t suited for the role. She wants different things, and that’s good. She deserves it,” he says. “What have you been doing? Are you doing photography like you planned?”
I hate that he remembers everything I told him. Worse, I hate the reminder. “That depends on you, I guess. If I’m not at the shoot in four days, I’ll lose my job. I worked hard to become Ms. Fernanda’s assistant. It took a year of getting coffee, reading her mind, and dealing with phone calls at all hours to get to take a single photo. If my best friend hadn’t pulled strings, I wouldn’t have any photos out in the world.”
“What do you photograph?” he asks.
“Models for couture fashion. Sometimes I get to do wedding shoots, but it doesn’t fill my pockets, so I cater ... used to cater. Bartending didn’t go well and now I need to find a second job,” I mumble, losing my appetite. “Can I just sleep through this experience?”
“You can do what you want within the house. I expect to see you at meals. I’d prefer to spend time with you, Sólnyshka.”
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. And if I don’t stop saying it, I’m worried I won’t.