Anton heated a plate of food in the microwave and placed that and a can of soda on the counter in front of her.
“Are you on birth control?” he asked.
“No.” Such a personal question. It somehow felt like more of an invasion than anything that had happened so far because it felt more real than everything else. It was a bit of the normal world slipping into the surreal world of the isolated house.
“Where are you in your cycle?”
She blushed and stayed silent.
“Kiska? I asked you a question.”
She looked down at the Chinese food. “I just finished.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“And how many days was it?”
“Three.”
“And you’re already done?”
His questions were so intrusive, yet somehow it felt more exposed than what had happened earlier on the pool table.
“Answer me,” he said.
“Yes. This is normal for me.”
“And how many days in a normal cycle for you?”
“Like thirty or thirty-one?”
He seemed to be doing some math in his head.
“Hmmm.” Anton moved to a cabinet and rummaged around in there, finally coming back out with a small white paper cup, which he placed on the table beside her.
There was a tiny pill in it.
“It’s birth control.”
“I don’t want to take that.”
“I didn’t ask. Would you rather be pregnant?”
She shook her head.
“Lindsay’s specialty is psychology, but he’s fully capable of handling most normal medical issues. We have a fully functioning medical room. You are perfectly safe if you’re worried it will hurt you.”
“What if I get pregnant anyway? What happens then?”
“We’ll worry about that if it happens.”
“No. Tell me. What happens then?”
He let out a deep annoyed sigh. “My God, Annette. What do you want to happen?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Then how can we have a conversation about it? Take the fucking pill.”
Annette stared at the little paper cup for about a minute before she finally swallowed the pill, chasing it with the soda.
Anton nodded. “Good. Come up to my room when you’re finished. It’s on the third floor. I’ll leave the door open and the light on so you can find it.” Then he left her alone in the large, shiny steel kitchen.
Annette let out a long, slow breath. Part of her wanted to leave the food and try the doors to see if she could get outside. But it was late, and she knew just how far out they were. And even though he’d spared her downstairs in the game room, if she ran away, she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t send someone after her sister. And maybe her as well.
You don’t want to go, a traitorous voice whispered in her mind, which was just more evidence of her mental instability. It didn’t matter how hot he was or how many funny things his accent did to her. Nor did it matter that what had happened on that pool table downstairs had been like touching God. It was still completely suicidal to want him on any level for any reason. Beyond that, it was fucking sick.
She shook these troubling thoughts away and dug into the Peking Duck and egg rolls. Anton had also brought her a fortune cookie. She wasn’t sure how to take that. But she opened the cookie anyway.
You will meet a handsome mysterious stranger.
She tried to find the rest of the paper that might say and he will murder you in your sleep.
The fortune cookie was over a day late. Maybe it was a history cookie.
When she’d finished eating, she left the plate in the giant stainless steel sink and wandered out of the kitchen. She paused in the entryway. On one side of her was a huge staircase; on the other was the front door.
Just go. This guy will hurt you.
But would he really?
Annette hadn’t thought of any man sexually in so long she thought maybe she never would again. Her previous partners had been so uninspiring in bed that it had killed the whole concept of sex for her. They’d been so… boring. The Russian was definitely not boring.
The way he’d touched her… like he actually knew what he was doing with her. But at the same time, he was dangerous. And who knew what the hell awful things he’d make her do? It might be different if he were just into regular normal sex.
Then again, regular normal sex hadn’t done much for her. She didn’t think she was kinky, but… how would she know? Her fantasies had sometimes run to the super dark and twisted, but she thought it was because of what she did for work. She needed constant novelty to not get bored. It was just a phone sex job hazard. Wasn’t it?
Had she been lying to Anton about her fantasies or lying to herself? Because maybe things weren’t as clear as she liked to pretend. Maybe that explained why regular sex hadn’t done it for her. Maybe she needed some danger to get off. This was so fucked up.
At the club, she’d wanted to go home with him. And then do what?
When she’d come here, it had been purely to save her sister. It wasn’t for any other reason, but now that she was here... If she wasn’t fleeing out the front door, there had to be a reason for that. Because if she were truly in fear for her life, she’d take the risk. Wouldn’t she?
She started toward the front door. She couldn’t live with herself if she went to him voluntarily and he destroyed her. Annette reached for the door but stopped short. There was a small white box on the wall beside it with a flashing red light next to the word armed.
Oh. That was why nobody was down here babysitting her and why she wasn’t chained up somewhere. Either Anton or one of the other guys must have set the alarm before going to bed. If she opened that door the alarm would go off and they’d all come running.
There was an unsettling sort of relief in this fact because now it was suddenly rational to go up the stairs to the Russian. Her choices had been cut off, so she didn’t have to worry which one was the right one. She didn’t have to think too hard about why she was doing it. She had so many excuses. Her sister’s safety. The raging wilderness outside for miles and miles. The security system. With all of these things true, going upstairs to Anton like he’d told her to was the smart option of the choices she had available.
Anton was in bed reading when she finally reached his room—though suite was more like it. It was huge, with a balcony off to one side, a large walk-in closet, and an attached bathroom.
He was bare at least from the waist up. It was impossible to know if he wore anything below that because he was covered up with the blankets. He wore dark-rimmed reading glasses that made him look like he belonged in a men’s magazine.
He closed the book and set it on the nightstand. “I thought you got lost.” He patted the bed beside him. “Close the door.”
Annette shut the door and crossed the room, feeling like maybe all the excuses she’d made before hadn’t been insurmountable after all. She started to pull the covers back and get into the bed, but Anton made a face.
“No. Take that off. You aren’t wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants if you want to sleep in my bed.”
Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? He’d seen everything already. But he hadn’t been watching her like this. Her mind was such a jumble. Was she nervous because he was a criminal? Because she was afraid he’d hurt her even though he’d already shown a softer side? Or because he was so distressingly beautiful?