The thoughts fly through my head, but I know better.
If I tell Petrov no, I’m a dead man.
I need to figure something out. The Valettis didn’t look so keen on doing business. Not this kind of business, anyway. Maybe I can get in with them. My gut churns. Would they take in the nephew of a rat? I can hear it now. The disrespect. The dismissal. No one takes in the last member of a tainted name. I’m on my own and that means I’m at the mercy of these fucks.
I climb the stairs and listen for her footsteps. For Ava Ivanov’s footsteps. She was practically royalty. Untouchable. And now she’s in chains and being sold as a slave. Passed around. She’s so fucking scared. I know she’s trying not to show it. She’s doing everything she can to obey and disappear into the background. I can sense it though, deep down.
She’s terrified.
There are so many scars on her body. Multiple small scratches over her hip and her shoulders. There are bruises of all different colors on her thighs and arms. A silvery bite mark on her shoulder. The sight of it infuriates me. Worse is the large cut on the nape of her neck. The metal dug in and rubbed her skin raw. It has to have been like that for a while to look so fucking bad.
I need to stay calm and think of this as just another job until I can get through it.
I stop at the top of the stairs. I look to the left and there’s a small hallway with a large door at the end. To the right is a hallway with more doors. The left has the largest room, so we’ll stay there.
I don’t care what they say about the chains being gone. I know they’re going to be pissed about it. I don’t give a fuck though. I’m not doing that shit. She’s in my care, so she’s mine for now. I’ll do what I want with her. A shudder runs through my body and I’m sickened by the thought that ran through my mind. She’s gorgeous, but it’s wrong to imagine her as mine.
I open the door and walk into a fairly barren room with a decently sized bed and a dresser. The closet doors are open and the closets are empty. The room is light and airy, with a soft pale blue paint on the walls and a grey bedspread. There are black and white abstract paintings scattered around the walls of the room. It’s not too bad for a safe house. There’s a door to the right and I’d guess that’s the bathroom. Good. She’ll have everything she needs in here.
I start thinking about how I have to go and get supplies, and then I curse under my breath. I’ve got nothing to make sure she stays put. I just cut off the chains and it’s not like I have anything on me to make sure she stays here. If I was her I’d take off the second I could. And if she does that, I’m fucked.
Fuck! How did I already mess this shit up? I sigh heavily and walk farther into the room. There’s gotta be something in here. Maybe I can use the closet. I can put something in front of the door. My heart sinks in my chest. I don’t want to do that. That’s so fucking shitty. But I have to make sure she doesn’t leave.
I don’t know how to do this shit. I turn around and run a hand down my face as I shut my eyes briefly in exasperation. “Ava?”
“Yes?” she answers quickly. When I open my eyes, her light blues stare back at me. Thank fuck. I couldn’t stand her looking at nothing, avoiding my gaze and looking as though she’s trying to fade from existence. I’m glad she listened.
“How does this normally work for you?” I ask, and cross my arms across my chest. I don’t really give a shit that I’m asking her. I’m sure as hell not calling up one of those sick fucks and asking them. I know a bit about this. I’m not proud to know, but I do. I can be her caretaker for a few days. I can do that. But I’m not fucking training women. Breaking them into submission. That shit’s not for me. I don’t want any part of that. But for now, I have to deal with Ava.
I’m not giving her the upper hand and giving her an option to take off. I can’t let that shit happen. I can’t piss off Petrov by losing her, even if I fucking hate what he’s doing. I’ll figure this shit out. If worse comes to worst, there’s the option of the closet.
Her mouth opens, but then closes quickly. Her eyes dart to the floor and then back to my face. Her fingers wrap around each other nervously. “I’m not sure how to answer,” she says in a calm voice that doesn’t match the anxiety she’s showing at all. Fear and apprehension wash off of her in waves.
I don’t like it. I fucking hate how hurt she is. “How about we take a seat?” I cock a brow at her and walk forward. I keep my movements slow. I half expect her to take a step back, to flinch. But she doesn’t move. She lets me place my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the bed.
I pat the comforter with my right hand. “Hop on up.” I sit my ass down and the bed dips with my weight as she climbs on and settles herself. Her shoulders turn inward, but she looks back at me expectantly, waiting for another order.
Jesus. I hate this shit. I know they trained her to behave like this. But I can’t handle this shit.
I’m staying far away from her. I can’t get attached. Can’t lose her, either. I’ll do what I have to so I can survive this, and then I’m cutting my ties. This shit isn’t for me.
“I need to head out and grab some things. I want you to stay here.”
“I understand,” she answers immediately. Like it’s that fucking easy.
“I’m thinking I should tie you up or put you in a room.” I don’t say it like a question, but that’s exactly what it is.
She nods her head slightly. “I understand,” she repeats. I take a deep breath.
“Which would you prefer?” I ask. I guess that’s the least I can do.
Her hand wraps around her wrist and a sad look crosses her face. “I would rather be locked in a room.”
“It’ll have to be the closet.” Her face falls at my words. I’d put her ass in the bathroom, but I can only imagine the trouble she’d get herself into. I could see her shattering the mirror and trying to stab me with a shard of glass. I’ve seen a lot of shit over the years. I’m keeping her ass away from anything that could be used as a weapon. And that means it’ll be the closet.
“I think I’d rather be tied up, if you’d allow it,” she responds. She swallows thickly and adds, “Please, sir.”
“I don’t like you calling me sir.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. They come out hard, but she doesn’t flinch. I probably shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know if they trained her to do that or not.
“I understand. I’ll call you whatever you wish,” she’s quick to respond.
I search her face, but I find nothing. “When they get here, call me sir. If anyone comes over, you call me sir. But for now, just call me Kane.” It’s probably a bad idea. All of this is a bad idea though.
She nods her head again and answers, “Yes, Kane.” Hearing her say my name makes me feel more at peace than it should.
I take a moment to absorb everything. She’s so obedient. It’s surreal. My brow furrows, and I have to wonder what all she’s been through. My chest hurts thinking about how much she has to be hurting. I swallow the lump growing in my throat and get off the bed.
I can’t think about it. I can’t go soft. I can’t help her. I’m only one man and she doesn’t belong to me. They’ll be here soon enough and then I won’t have to deal with this.