Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
When we get to the entrance, I bend and grab the little package Aleks left for me.
She walks obediently beside me, taking it all in. “I’m impressed,” she says as we head inside. “My family hardly lives in poverty, but this… this is stunning.”
I roll my eyes. As if flattery will get her anywhere.
“Just look at this. You can tell it’s a luxury home. Those floors. Are they mahogany? Those high ceilings and crown moldings. My God, Lev, you have a crystal chandelier in the dining room.”
Forgot about that.
“But it’s secure, look at this. Those windows look reinforced, and I’d bet you have cameras trained on every inch of this place. And those mirrors are for more than show, aren’t they?”
Yeah, of course they are. Mirrors give an immediate view of every visible angle of the house.
“Listen, if we go out to dinner, you’re paying,” she says. “Obviously, you can afford it.”
My lips twitch.
“Cat got your tongue, handsome?”
“Do you ever talk without flirting?”
“Who, me? Of course not. Why be so mundane?” She smiles, her golden eyes alight. “Glad I finally got you to open up.”
I half regret removing her gag and simultaneously regret ever gagging her in the first place. I feel like my thoughts and actions are muddled like scrambled eggs. There’s something intoxicating and enigmatic about her.
I love hearing her talk. I love watching her move. I’m entranced with the way her mind works.
And I can’t fucking wait to break her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Isabella
Ay caramba!
I can hardly believe my luck.
Yes, yes, I’ve been abducted by one of the Romanov boys. Er, men. And yes, yes, I know that those ironclad rules we’ve established since the Stone Ages technically mean my life is forfeit.
Whatever.
The bottom line is I’m in his residence. I’ve leaped straight from the observation tower into the shark tank.
I can hardly believe I didn’t think of this myself. If only I’d seduced him from day one. I mean, this might be most helpful, though, because this way, he thinks this was all his idea.
I must keep him thinking that way.
I take in every detail. While my family hardly lives in poverty, none of the property was mine. No woman has ever been allowed to claim ownership of property in the Los Sangre Dorada. Where I’m from… we’re the property.
So, it isn’t just the opulence and beauty of his home that appeals to me. It’s that it’s his. His property. His castle.
I’m half in love… until he brings me to the basement.
Down a flight of stairs, we leave the brightly lit luxury of the main floor. It’s darker and cooler here. I shiver, still wet from my run in the rain to the warehouse.
I’ve honestly had better days. He yanked my hair pretty good back there. My scalp still tingles. My hair is so thick and heavy, even wearing it in a ponytail can give me a headache, and I had the start of one up in that loft. Can’t remember the last time I ate anything. Now, my head’s pounding like someone put a box over it and is slamming their fists against it.
My hand is throbbing from the damn splinter, and he’s been tossing me around like I’m a doll.
And something tells me he’s only warming up.
It’s fine, though. You don’t get to be me without some serious practice learning to lean into pain and discomfort. Hell, in the right circumstances, I might even like it.
It’s dimly lit here, shadows playing on the walls as he marches me down a flight of stairs. The air is cooler, and it’s dark down here. Ah. This must be his workout room. When my eyes adjust to the low lighting, I can identify various pieces of high-end workout equipment—a weight bench, some dumbbells, and pulleys. The walls are lined with mirrors, amplifying the space and making me feel eerily on full display here. The cool air smells like any gym would, a blend of metal, rubber, and a tinge of perspiration.
It’s spacious, with low ceilings and a cool concrete floor. Ahhh. Maybe that’s why he’s brought me here.
Whatever he’s planning on doing to me, he doesn’t want to harm those gorgeous floors upstairs.
Exposed pipes run along the ceiling, and along one wall, a row of weight racks gleams, filled with hand weights and kettlebells of various sizes.
I hope he gives me enough freedom to let me explore this a bit more. He isn’t the only one who likes to lift.
The opposite wall is dominated by a large, full-length mirror, slightly fogged, and in the center of the room, there are several workout machines—a treadmill, a bench press, and a cable machine. Not a speck of dust anywhere suggests frequent use.
“Someone takes his workouts seriously,” I note. He doesn’t respond.
My heart comes to a sudden stop when I see the left of the room. Beside a thick punching bag suspended from the ceiling are a few other things—heavy iron chains and ropes, obviously used for workouts but suitable for… other purposes as well. Yeah, those ropes are great for a core workout but… can be used for other things.