Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

Lena

I’m lucky on the drive from Roman’s house. Micah sits up front with his henchmen and doesn’t try to talk to me.

The silence gives me a chance to consider my options. Running away would mean staying on the run and not speaking to my family again. At least for a lengthy period of time. They would deserve it, my father and my brothers. Though maybe I can’t fault Jakub. Or maybe I can. He didn’t exactly barge into the meeting to help me.

The darkness of the night sky doesn’t stop the city lights from illuminating our way down Michigan Avenue. Roman Ivanov lives in an estate, protected by steel gates. My fiance likes the city apparently.

The SUV pulls into a parking garage and the bright lights wash over the car as we drive up the ramp to a private spot. My car door is opened for me and I scoot out, ignoring the hand being offered. Micah cups my elbow and pulls me toward the elevators.

He still hasn’t spoken a word to me. When we approach the elevator, he jams his finger into the call button then turns to Niko.

They have a rapid conversation in Russian. I know a few words, but they speak too quickly for me to catch them all in the right order. When they’re done, Niko goes back to the SUV, leaving us alone as the elevator doors slide open.

This is it. If I step into this little box, I’ll never be allowed out.

“Don’t be difficult, Lena.” He steps into the elevator, turns and faces me. There’s a daring in his eyes, like he almost hopes I give him trouble.

I force my gaze to meet his, taking in his dark eyes, and step into the elevator with him. I catch a whiff of his aftershave when he reaches around me to hit the buttons on the panel in front of me. It’s a warm scent, spicy.

He presses the penthouse button then puts in his code and the elevator doors ease closed. We’re trapped in this little box together. Alone.

“You did good tonight,” he says from behind me. I raise my eyes to the lights checking off the floors overhead and say nothing.

Did good. I’ve gone from one prison to another, how is that progress?

Little hairs on the back of my neck tingle as they rise. I won’t look, I won’t give him the satisfaction of glancing over my shoulder at him. I flatten my hands against my stomach, pulling each breath in through my nose and releasing it through my mouth. No matter how many breaths I take, I can’t shake off his stare from behind me.

I must look such a fool to him. A girl easily stolen from the street. A daughter completely dispensable to her family.

The elevator dings, signaling we’ve arrived at the top floor of the high-rise, but the doors don’t open. Before I can hit the open-door button, Micah reaches around me again. His chin brushes against my shoulder as he punches in another code. The red flashing light above the panel turns green and the doors slide open, revealing the penthouse waiting for us.

“Is that really safe?” I ask, stepping off the elevator into the pristine foyer. White and gray marble flooring spreads out across the round foyer and drifts off down the long corridor. A round mahogany table sits in the middle of the entrance way with a large crystal vase filled with a colorful flower arrangement. A simple chandelier of white iron and candle-shaped lights dangles over the arrangement.

“No one can enter without the code.” He waits for the elevator to close and puts in another code into the keypad on the inside of the penthouse. “And now, no one can leave without it.”

An opportunity missed; I should have watched him punching in the numbers.

“Follow me,” he says and takes off down the corridor in front of us. There are hallways leading off the foyer to the right and left as well, but I follow him instead of exploring on my own. His leather-soled shoes clap against the flooring between the clicks my heels make as I follow him.

“Living room to the right, family room to the left.” He points toward the rooms as we pass them. I only have time for a quick glance. A magazine could be shot here, the decor is so crisp and modern.

“That’s the dining room.” He gestures toward his right then nods to the left. “The guest bedroom.”

The wide hallway acts as the vein of the residence with the room being offshoots. Micah takes a sharp turn down a hallway on his right, and I stumble in my footing to keep up with him.

“It’s late,” I say. “I think I’d like to just go to bed.”

He makes another turn after we pass a closed door and I have to hurry to keep up with him, smacking right into his back. He’s a solid wall; doesn’t move a fraction. I grab hold of his suit jacket to keep from tumbling down.

“Whoa.” He turns, grabbing my hands and helping me get on solid footing. “Careful.”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

I look at my hands, engulfed by his larger ones. If he were to squeeze hard enough, he could break my bones easily. And there would be no one to stop him.

Yanking my hands from his grip, I take a small step back.

“You’ll eat something, then I’ll take you to your room.” He glances over me. “You didn’t eat when I told you to before.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” I raise my chin with my lie. I wouldn’t have been able to keep it down if I had tried to eat anything. Being held captive by a sex trade family works against proper digestion.

He studies me for a long minute, like he’s waiting for me to confess some big sin.

“I’m not all that hungry now either,” I add.

“You can manage a sandwich.” He moves to the refrigerator and points to the barstools on the other side of a kitchen island. The kitchen could double as a gourmet chef’s playground.

I ease myself onto a barstool and tuck my hair behind my ears. It’s been a long day, a longer evening, and my nerves have endured all they can for one day. A glass of red wine and a hot bath would help, but I won’t ask. I’ll simply take what he gives and when he shows me to my room, I’ll sink into the bed and pray for sleep to consume me. Maybe when I wake up this will all have been a really weird dream.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to lay low with your money?” I ask while he digs around the fridge. He turns back to me with a container of sliced ham and a plump red tomato. “This place is, well, amazing but doesn’t it worry you? Won’t it bring attention?”

He grabs a plate from the cabinet and begins putting together a sandwich.

“No,” he answers after he’s carefully placed the second slice of bread on the sandwich and slices it in half from corner to corner.

“No?”

“No,” he says again and pushes the small plate across the countertop. “Eat.”

I pick up one half of the sandwich and take a large bite. Turns out I’m famished and finish the entire sandwich while he watches me take every bite.

“That was good,” I say, wiping my mouth with the napkin he hands me.

“Delphia is my housekeeper. She says she smoked the ham herself, but I think she gets it from a farmer out in the west suburbs where her family lives.” He takes the plate from me and places it in the deep stainless-steel sink.

When he turns back to me, he presses his ass and his hands against the sink edge. He’s taken off his suit jacket and tossed it on one of the barstools and loosened his tie. In this position he looks almost civil.

I jerk my gaze away from him. It’s easier when he doesn’t look so casual.

“You can walk away from this, you know,” I say, keeping my eyes away from his. If I look into the darkness of his gaze, he’ll suck me in. I can feel it inside me, how easily I can get lost there.

He’s an Ivanov. A man I’m being forced to marry, I can’t afford to lose myself to attraction. No matter how strong. I have to stay on my toes. Look for an angle that will wake me from this nightmare.

“I could,” he agrees with me. “But I think both of our fathers would take issue with that.”

I roll my eyes and drop one foot to the floor. “Not a man of his own will then. I see.”

He laughs at my attempt to insult his manhood. “I’m as tied to my family as you are to yours. There’s no shame in that. There’s honor in doing your duty by your family. To being loyal.”

I flick a quick glance at him. “And was it loyal when my father bartered me away for peace?” There’s a bite to my words that I can’t hide.

“Your father does what’s best for the whole family.” His answer doesn’t really answer me. Did I really expect anything else?

I slip from the stool. “I’d like to go to bed now.” I put my finger up in the air. “Alone.”

He lifts his left eyebrow. “And you think you have that right?”

“I’m not married to you yet.”

“No, but you’re still mine, Lena. Make no mistake about that. I don’t need a priest to make that happen. Our fathers’ agreement already did.”

My stomach twists. He’s right. The priest blessing our union is pure theatrics. As far as the families are concerned, we’re together. I’m his.

“But I have a phone call to make. I’ll take you to your room.” He grabs his jacket from the stool where he deposited it and leads me from the kitchen. We backtrack down the small hallway to the main larger corridor and after another turn or two, we’re in front of a closed door. “Here you are.”

“My own room?” I clarify. The edges of his lips twitch. Does my uncertainty amuse him? Of course it does. Just because he hasn’t hurt me yet, and just because he made me a sandwich doesn’t make him any less of an Ivanov.

“For now. Once the wedding takes place, you’ll move into my room.” He gestures with his chin at the door at the end of the hall. It faces the hall, as though holding power over the other rooms.

I reach for the door handle, but his hand wraps around mine, stopping me. Warmth skyrockets up my arm at his touch.

“Lena,” he says, cupping my chin with his free hand and drawing my face toward him. “I know this isn’t what you want but understand there is no way out of it. If you try to run away, if you try to wiggle free of this agreement, there will be trouble. Not just between our families, but between you and me.”

“Trouble between you and me?” I narrow my eyes. “You arrogant prick.”

His lips spread into an amused grin. “There’s the fire I saw before.” He pinches my chin harder. “I find it refreshing, but don’t mistake that for tolerance. You’ll be a good wife. An obedient wife, or you’ll face the consequences.”

He lets go of my chin and reaches behind me, patting my ass.

I shuffle away from him, comprehending what he means.

“My father may allow this marriage, but he will never forgive you abusing me.” My voice shakes, but I’m not sure if it’s from exhaustion of the day, the fear of his threat, or because there’s an electric current running straight to my pussy from his meaning.

“I won’t abuse you, Lena.” He lets me go, pushes the bedroom door open, and flicks a light on for me. “But I will not tolerate disobedience from my wife. Children misbehave, and if that’s how you behave, that’s how you’ll be treated.” He brushes my hair away from my shoulders. “Now, off to bed, little Lena. I have calls to make.”

He doesn’t even wait for me to speak or to move, he simply walks off back down the hall toward the front foyer and disappears down another hallway. As straightforward as this place seemed at the beginning, I doubt I’d be able to find him easily now if I needed to.

“Bed, Lena!” His voice carries easily down the long corridor to me. I fist my hands; the urge to scream back at him pulls on me. But in the end, I barge into the room and slam the door behind me.