I click on the remote, causing the curtains to fall closed, shielding us from the outside world.
“What the hell do you want?” she snaps.
“And that’s five, Lenochka.” I motion at her to move closer. “Now, come here.”
19
Winter
My temper is about to snap and break all hell loose.
I’m so tempted to get out of his office—to hell with his punishments every night. The sick bastard always finds a reason to spank me or whip me, anyway, so it’s not like tonight will be any different.
He’s making it his mission to not allow me to sit comfortably and to feel every lash of his punishment whenever I move. I constantly sense his presence with me, even when we don’t see each other. It’s a persistent reminder of my shameful orgasms and how my body responds to the pain as stimulation instead of discomfort.
The worst part is that I look forward to nighttime now. I look forward to all the things he’ll do to me in the confinements of the bedroom’s walls. Sometimes, I lie in still in the morning and feel like a slut for taking another woman’s role and orgasming on the bed she slept in for years. I feel like an imposter and a horrible human being.
But come nightfall, all those thoughts vanish, except for the feel of his skin on mine. The scent of his cologne. The sheer power of his presence.
I tell myself to hate it, to loathe it, to rebel against it, but what’s the point? I may muffle my orgasms and turn away from him, but he’s a constant that’s impossible to get rid of. He might have confiscated me from the streets, but he didn’t force me to enjoy his ministrations. That was all on me. I chose to enjoy his brutality, his touch, and even crave it after a single taste.
Now that we’re in his office, it feels different from the bedroom. There are no voices telling me it’s wrong or that this place belonged to his wife.
Ever since the day I waited for him on the sofa outside, I’ve actively avoided this place, so this is the first time I’ve come in here. Like him, his office exudes an intense masculine vibe. The lounge area has a black high-back leather sofa and chairs. Even the glass on the coffee table is black. His dark brown wooden desk is topped by three monitors and he sits in a large chair that’s dwarfed by his muscular frame. I’m surprised to find floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with endless books on either side of him.
They’re probably for show.
He beckons me with a finger. “Come here.”
My eyes widen when he lifts a glass to his mouth and the pieces of ice make a swirling sound, clinking tantalizingly.
Holy shit. Alcohol.
That liar Ogla told me there was none in the house. Adrian is obviously drinking some right now.
I’ve been trying my damnedest to not make mistakes so that I’ll be rewarded and can ask for alcohol. However, my mouth usually gets me in trouble, because I can’t stand Adrian’s tyranny, so I end up being punished every night.
Or maybe you want to be punished every night.
I shove that idea in the black box at the back of my mind.
All this time, I’ve been holding on to the hope that I’ll be able to get at least a little drunk.
Now, things have changed. Adrian has alcohol in this place. If I had known, I would’ve barged into his office before.
A plan immediately forms in my head as I slowly approach him. His calm façade doesn’t fool me, because that’s merely a layer of camouflage to hide his observant nature. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve caught him watching me, whether through his office window or while I’m sleeping.
It’s creepy and causes my skin to crawl, but it’s not only because of the act itself. It’s because he really seems to be seeing through me sometimes. Due to that ability, he’ll be able to figure out whether I’m being fake or genuine, so I conceal my anger while I gently sway my hips.
I’m wearing a soft pink dress that has a skater skirt instead of the straight ones Lia’s closet is filled with. Needless to say, it took me a lot of digging to find it. I’m also wearing heels to add a bit of height to my short legs.
My hair is loose and I fixed my makeup after Jeremy and I woke up from our nap. So I have confidence in my looks. What I don’t have confidence in is my ability to play a seduction game on someone like Adrian.
He’s not only observant, but he also has the ability to barge into the soul of someone without armor.
I stop within an arm’s length of him and inhale a drag of air into my lungs. The scent of cognac is almost enough to make me drunk. I would kill for a sip. Just one, single sip. But no matter how much I crave it, I force myself not to look at the glass nestled between his lean fingers.
If I do, Adrian will see right through me.
He tilts his head to the side as if he’s trying to get past my skull and peer inside my head. “What did you think you were doing with Yan just now?”
“I was only inviting him to play with us. It’s cold outside the gazebo.”
“Yan does not play with you. Whether he’s cold or freezes to death is none of your business.”
“Are you always this heartless, even toward your own men?”
“Why?” He cocks his head further. “Are you offended on his behalf, Lenochka?”
“Of course I am. You don’t deserve his loyalty to you.”
“Do not touch him again. Do not invite him in again, and you do not even talk to him.”
“It was innocent.”
“Innocent,” he repeats, as if the prospect is impossible.
“It was.”
“Innocent or not. That will not happen again.”
“Or what? You’ll punish me?” I resist the urge to scoff, because that’s part of his modus operandi.
“That goes without saying. However, that’s not the only price. Anyone who dares to touch you will pay, too. In fact, if I catch anyone looking at you, they’ll wish they were never born.”
“Are you serious?” I know he is, so my question is rhetorical at best, but Adrian nods anyway.
“Go ahead and test me, Lenochka. If you prefer seeing that side of me sooner rather than later, if you’d like to witness Yan being beaten until a few bones are broken, you can keep up this attitude.”
“You’re crazy.” My voice trembles as images of Yan being beaten slam into my head.
“You’ve seen nothing of my craziness, so do not provoke me.”
“You’re a fucking dictator. I don’t know how the hell Lia stayed with you all this time. If I were her, I would’ve left long ago.”
I regret the words as soon as I say them. Adrian is fully believing that I’m Lia, and I just broke the spell he’s accepted as truth for a whole week.
His expression darkens, and I’m tempted to bolt out of the room. Better yet, the whole damn house. But something keeps me rooted in place.
It must be the alcohol. No. It’s definitely the alcohol that’s making me stay here.
Adrian grabs me by the wrist and I squeal as my throbbing ass meets the edge of the desk. He rolls his chair forward and opens his legs, caging me between them.
The warmth of his skin captures me in its dark depths, pulling me under despite myself. We’re separated by his pants and my dress, but it doesn’t even matter. The hold he has on me is magnetic and it keeps getting worse, not better.