But he was not a good man.
Even now, I didn’t know what to do. In this world, everything was twisted and upside down, and as the numbness faded, uncertainty of where my loyalties should lie tore at me.
Picking mysel
f up off the floor, I wrapped a towel around me and exited the bathroom, taking a step back before I ran into Yulia. Without further ado, she shoved my cheer bag into my arms.
“Dress. Then you come down to breakfast.”
I hesitated, looking at the bag that felt foreign in my arms. A week in this house, and my past was a distant memory. I’d wanted out of this room, but today I wasn’t so sure about anything.
“It was not request,” Yulia snapped impatiently.
“And if I don’t?” Casting a meaningful glance at her small frame that was easily five inches shorter than mine, I asked, “Are you going to carry me out?”
Her expression hardened, and with a humph, she turned on her heel to the door, steps filled with purpose. She was going to tell on me, and the last thing I wanted this morning was to be manhandled by an oversized psychopath.
“I’m going,” I growled.
She paused, and then, slowly, she turned to me with a triumphant smile.
“Evil woman,” I said under my breath, only to hear a returned, “Brat.”
Refusing to allow her to drag me down to an eight-year-old’s level, I ignored the insult and dug through my bag like it might hold the key to escaping this place—though, unfortunately, all it contained was a pile of bright, messy clothes.
I hadn’t gone this long without shaving since I was thirteen, but wearing pants to conceal it felt like Ronan would be winning an unsaid battle. I didn’t care what he thought of my appearance, and if it turned him off—even better. I slipped on a flowy off-the-shoulder bohemian dress and inhaled a breath for the confidence I would need to traverse the devil’s lair.
With bare feet, I followed Yulia down the hall, throat tightening as I passed the spot the guard fell. A lemon scent lingered in the air, and the floor sparkled like it was polished. I wondered if Yulia spent her morning knee-deep in bloody paper towels.
As we made our way downstairs, I took in my surroundings. The home’s decor was grand, with tall ceilings, white crown molding, and marble floors. However, the Persian rugs, dark curtains, and mismatched furniture gave it a warm and masculine feel. If it wasn’t my prison cell, I could almost say it was comfortable.
Ronan sat at the end of the long table in the dining room. He reclined in his high-back chair like a king, eyes as dark as his soul. Like some twisted version of Narnia, I was sure, if I stepped into his wardrobe, it would lead me straight to hell.
I stopped at the other end of the table with every intention of sitting as far from him as I could manage, though, with a cool gaze, Ronan pushed out the chair next to him with his foot.
What a grand gentleman.
I’d rather try the two-story jump from my window than sit next to him, but pride wouldn’t allow me to reveal the shake in my veins. So I moved toward him like I did it every day; like he didn’t shoot a man in the head in the same room days ago. I sat, the only sounds the soft scrape of my chair against the marble and Ronan’s intrusive presence.
A dark-haired girl close to my age entered the room and quietly set fine china dishes on the table in front of us. Bliny. Russian pancakes served with fresh jam—my favorite meal Borya prepared at home in vegan fashion.
My stomach churned at the idea of forcing it down, but I would try. I wouldn’t survive in this world if I couldn’t adjust, and I refused to let it eat me alive.
I forked a blin and dropped it onto my plate. Ronan only sat back in his chair, the sparkle of my earring twirling between his fingers while he watched me add jam to the top. Cutting into a pancake, I halted when he still didn’t move.
“Sorry, did you want to say grace first?”
He was amused. “It’s not exactly a routine of mine, but if you want to, I’ll listen.”
“So sure you won’t go up in flames?”
“Sounds like you’re counting on it.”
Catching Yulia’s gaze as she stepped into the room to water a plant near the window, I said, “Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
Another humph.
I turned my eyes back to the table to see Ronan watching me intensely. “Don’t patronize my staff, kotyonok.”