Alessia
“Oatmeal?” I ask when Vlad returns carrying a bowl.
He looks into the bowl. “Yeah? I guess.” He shrugs. “Mika likes it.”
That shouldn’t warm my heart. Neither should the fact that he’s sliced banana into the bowl and brought up a cup of steaming coffee. He looks street rough and bad boy to the core, but Vlad isn’t any rougher than one of my brothers at heart.
He releases the rope connecting my wrists to the headboard and helps me sit up, propped in the middle of the bed with a pillow behind my back. He sits beside me and holds the spoon out.
“Really? You’re going to hand feed me again? Don’t you have something better to do with your time?”
He pauses with the spoon halfway to my mouth, like he’s really considering the question. He gives the shrug again. “Yes and no.”
“Explain.” I swallow a spoonful of oatmeal which actually totally hits the spot.
“Yes, I have work to do. But I can’t have my prisoner slipping into a diabetic coma on me again.”
“You already gave me insulin.”
“I like you at my mercy.”
There it is. The crux of our relationship, and I fear the source of our mutual attraction. It’s sick and wrong on every level. And why I need to escape from this man’s clutches immediately. Before he gets me to Russia. Before he grows on me any more.
He lifts the rim of the coffee cup to my lips and I sip it gingerly.
And nearly spit it out. “Oh my God! Is that instant coffee?”
Vlad shrugs. “So?”
I make a face. “Disgusting.”
He lifts the cup to his mouth and drains the whole thing in one go, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “No espresso today, printsessa.”
I stare at the empty cup, my disappointment real. Yeah, I have way bigger problems to worry about-like being almost naked and tied to a man’s bed. Needing to escape before he brings me halfway across the world. But that coffee had smelled good.
And I really like my coffee in the morning, dammit.
“Is that how Russians make coffee?” If he’s going to call me princess, I might as well act like one.
He shoves another spoonful of oatmeal in my mouth. “Russians drink tea. Those who drink coffee, drink instant. In general.”
I realize it behooves me to keep him in conversation. The more I learn about him, the better. Also, the sooner I can get him to trust me, the quicker I will find a way to escape. No more shutting the door when he tells me not to. I need to act like the obedient little prisoner and lull him into complacency.
Contemplating obedience makes me shift my ass on the bed. The sting of the spanking has already worn off. If that’s Vlad’s version of punishment, I’m not in much danger of even breaking a nail. It appears he’s more into humiliation than invoking real pain or fear.
Which is good, because I’m not into real pain or fear, either.
And the humiliation… was pretty hot.
“And you?”
Surprise flits over his face, like no one’s ever asked him what he drinks. When he tosses a shrug, I realize it’s characteristic. “I like both.”
“But not espresso?” I let a teasing smile play at my lips.
I’m rewarded with an answering one that takes my breath away. He studies me for a moment, like I’m the most fascinating creature who ever walked the Earth, then feeds me another spoonful. “I never developed a taste for it. How do you like yours?”
I finish chewing and swallow. “Decaf cappuccino.”
“Decaf?” He sneers. “What’s the point?”
“The caffeine affects blood sugar more.” And my blood pressure, which isn’t good for the kidney problem, but I don’t like to think about that.
His face softens into sympathy. “Ah.” He thumbs a drop of milk away from my lower lip. “Such a perfect package, it’s hard to believe the goods inside are damaged.” I flinch and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it that way. I only lament my misconception. The mafia princess doesn’t live the charmed life I imagined, that’s all.”
For some reason, that makes my eyes sting. Maybe because I didn’t expect so much compassion from my kidnapper.
Of course, he sees it. His brows dip and he slides his thumb over my cheek. “Shhh. I’ll take care of you, Alessia. I made a mistake drugging you yesterday, because I didn’t know. Won’t happen again. Your body requires vigilance. Maintaining a delicate balance. I will manage the diabetes. You don’t need to worry anymore.”
Something vibrates behind my sternum. A trembling I can’t identify. My eyes grow wet, although I cannot fathom why. I’ve always hated my family assuming I’m weak and fragile, fussing over me, yet the idea of him taking over feels like a relief.
This man needs to keep me alive. He’s using me for ransom money. He’s not a life partner pledging to take away the burden of diabetes. Or if that is what he’s doing, he’s insane. He won’t keep me as his captive bride. I’m not sticking around for that.
I turn my head away, refusing any more food. My stomach’s too knotted to eat more, anyway.
Vlad mutters something in Russian and unceremoniously pulls me flat on my back with his tattooed fingers around my thigh. My panties ride up my ass and I wriggle, trying to get them back down.
“Blyat.” He shakes his head and grips my wrists to refasten them to the headboard.
It’s obviously some kind of curse word. I would ask for the translation, but I’m feeling too sullen.
When Vlad leaves the room, I let myself indulge in a few tears.