Rose,
Get dressed and knock on the door. Someone will bring you down to join me.
-N
My heart thumps. Join him? I’m allowed out? It’s daytime, so my head is suddenly bursting with plans of escape, but I make myself slow, taking a breath.
I need to dress. He gave me clothes. I’m shaking as I open the packages. No underwear, but therearepretty dresses, another slip, no shoes. There’s a floral number and a red one. I choose the floral, since it’s day, and pull it on. It’s fitted in the bodice, with a loose, above the knee skirt and a sweetheart neckline with cap sleeves, buttons running the length of the front.
I dry my hair and dither over makeup, but in the end, I just sweep on a little mascara and a tinted gloss he got me.
Then, I knock.
The key turns and the big man opens the door, gesturing to the stairs. “Dining room.” That’s all he says. For a moment, I stand, unmoving.
Then, realizing I’m being given the tiny bite of freedom to go by myself, I do just that, almost running down the stairs like some pathetic creature who thinks the bigger cage is actually freedom.
It’s almost like being free, but not quite. I pour my eyes over everything as I go, knowing I’m being watched, careful not to move my head too much. I catalogue my surroundings, looking for something, anything, that hints at a way out.
There are panels of stained glass on either side of the big door across the foyer that stream in sunlight. No guard, but why would there be? The small sleek box that I’m sure is an alarm will definitely be armed.
Taking a breath, I turn and head to the dining room. There are other doors, another hall I pass as I go. Everything is quiet and still, like the house is waiting for me.
The door’s ajar and I knock, the sound timid even to my ears. While Nikolai lights the kind of fires in me that turn my world into ash, he’s also a creature of the dark, from a world I don’t understand, one I don’t care to. He’s a monster and I need to remember that.
“Don’t just stand there.” His voice threads through the open door, curling around me in a burst of warmth and intimacy that’s all in my head. He’s been down between my thighs. Fingers inside me, tongue in my mouth. Lips on my skin. He’s seen me, touched me, made me sing in ways no one ever has before. Beyond just naked flesh, he’s seen me when I haven’t wanted him to, seen me in ways I’ve never seen myself.
Really, it’s just cool, bored, and non-committal.
“For fuck’s sake.”
I pull myself together at the faint aura of annoyance in his tone, like I’m testing his patience.
Pushing the door wide, I walk in and clasp my hands in front of me. Nikolai is in black dress pants and a black shirt rolled at the wrists. A tie, the darkest red silk, sits abandoned next to him, his suit jacket slung across the back of the chair. His legs are crossed, long, lean, and powerful, his leather shoes spotless perfection. He’s reading a paper, old school, and a tablet sits next to a cup of coffee.
The room smells faintly of coffee, leather polish, and the dark, wanton spice ofhim: unsmoked tobacco, earthy, and a hint of jasmine, too. It’s sex. Sophistication. Dark secrets. Warm, tangled sheets. Hot caresses. If this were a different situation, and I didn’t know what he was, I’d swoon. Just a little.
He turns the page, the paper crinkling and dust mites dancing in the air from the light streaming through the windows. “Sit down for fuck’s sake, Rose. You’re like an annoying ghost. Stop hovering.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, I walk hesitantly to the table, not sure where to sit, but without lifting his attention from the paper, he uncrosses his legs and kicks the seat next to him out. I sit, pulling the chair in, my back straight and knees pressed together. I link my hands on the table’s edge and wait.
This isn’t me, the obedient little girl, but fighting him doesn’t work. Maybe if I try to be the good little girl, he’ll get bored of me, maybe relax his control. Either way, there’s a chance I could get out of here, no matter how gossamer thin and fragile.
He keeps saying he’ll kill me, hurt me if I cross a certain line, but I’m honestly not sure about it. He’s capable, very much so, but would he do it? I’m not going to push to find out. So far, he hasn’t hurt me, not properly.
The tenderness of my ass whispers a different kind of story. I can’t deny it. He’s brought me pain, but only to a point, and that pain turned me on more than I want to admit.
I’m about to ask him why I’m here when the door opens, revealing the maid. She blushes at the sight of him, her hand trembling as she puts down a tray, topping off his coffee and serving him an omelet with salad and toast.
“Thanks, Sylvie.” His tone is noncommittal, but pleasant, like he’s a banker or something. Is this what he’s like with others? “And juice, please.”
Then his gaze flickers to me. “Tell her what you want, Rose.”
“Uh…” I lick my lips, suddenly hungry and nauseous at the same time. “I’ll have the same.”
“Egg whites?” He raises a brow.
Nonplussed, I nod, suddenly wanting to ask if he’s watching his cholesterol.