Rosalind
Nikolai told me to go to my room, but I don’t.
There’s an old-fashioned landline I find in the library. I never saw it before, but, then again, last time, I never quite had the nerve to really poke and snoop about. It’s in a recessed area, like it was way back when landlines were new, and people had special places for them. There’s even a chair, dark red velvet, way in the back of the room next to it.
Of course, it doesn’t work. I clench my hand tight, trying to push down the frustration. My constant companion, frustration.
When he said that to me, those generic words about living, he never explained further. I asked but he left. Because Nikolai Wilder does what he wants.
It’s not fair, not at all, and taking a breath, pulling the throw tight about me, I storm out, marching through his place until I hear voices. Male voices, the austere, low, rich tone of Nikolai, and a gruffer voice. The study door isn’t closed all the way and that’s how I justify pushing in.
Darkness comes my way as he looks at me. Then, he casts a look at his companion. “Tony, give me a moment.”
The big guy, Mia’s husband, nods and leaves. Nikolai sighs and stretches behind the desk, a suit jacket over the back of the chair, black, and this time, his shirt is cream. He must have gone up and changed, and honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it: glad he’s not going about the day smelling like me, or annoyed.
He raises a cool brow. “I’m busy, Rose. I’ve given you a little room, but don’t mistake it as kindness or leniency. You went through shit, but that leeway’s coming to an end. I told you to go to your room, so why are you here?”
I almost shrink away, but I make myself stand there, glaring instead. “You don’t get to say all that to me back in your dumb library and walk off. You want me to go back there, after everything that happened? Why?”
His mouth curls slow in a cold little smile, one that causes heat to twist in me. “I’ve told you all you need to know for now. I’m busy.”
“So you’re not going to share your plans with me?”
“Not. Yet.”
“Even though I’m the one who has to put myself in harms away? That isn’t fair.” I clutch the throw tight, and then I look at him, tilting my head, and I let it go.
It slides off me to the ground. I’m naked like he seems to crave. Maybe I crave it, too. I’m not sure, but I love how he looks at me like I’m dessert, even though it’s wrong. Can it be both right and wrong at the same time?
His eyes narrow as he goes still, taking me in, every single inch. When he’s done, I’m shaking. It’s like he felt me up, put his mouth everywhere.
“That’s just too fucking bad, Rose.” He pulls his computer to him. It looks brand new, like it was just taken out of the box. “Go. I’m busy. Oh, and Rose?” He doesn’t look up. “Cover up and go to your room, or it’ll be the bad punishment.”
It’s hard to eat when Mia brings me lunch, along with a single red rose.
There’s a pretty red dress, too, but the note says, tomorrow, no panties.
I shiver as a thrill passes through me, even as the anger and frustration rise.
At least the books are still in my room and the door is unlocked. Still, I don’t leave. Where am I going to go? He’s gone-I saw a car peel away from my window, and I’m guessing the place is on lockdown again. There are more guards outside, though not as many as at my father’s place.
Maybe I could seek out Rush, but honestly, he’s not going to help me escape, and I’m not about to try to seduce him. It wouldn’t work. Sure, he looked at me like he admired me, but it wasn’t lust, and he loves his cousin.
So, I read.
I take a bath.
I’m so fucking bored, I actually wander downstairs wrapped in a robe to check out the locks and alarms. I trail from room to room, but the computers are either not there or password locked, and no one’s left a convenient phone for me, either.
Voices come from the back where the kitchen is, and every time I see a camera, I stop, smile,, and give it the finger. In fact, I entertain myself for about an hour seeking them out and doing that. Maybe I’m courting certain trouble, maybe I’m not, but what’s he going to do?
Punish me.
Spank me, fuck me, and not let me come.
Keep me naked and finger me.
I shiver at that. I actually think of getting on my bed and masturbating, but I’m not quite game. Besides, there’s something achingly delicious in the denial, in the handing over my pleasure to him.
I’m sick in the head. I don’t get how I still want him and despise him and like him and resent him, all at the same time. How, if I let myself, I could easily slide down into something more than “like.”
When it’s late, I discard the robe and slide under the covers. I think it’s late. Dinner’s come and gone. I close my eyes, trying not to think about what he wants me to do. I need more than what he’s willing to give. I need…What is it I want? A reason, I guess, to make it all worth it. No, I want a reason to let myself freefall.
“Stupid Stockholm Syndrome, I mutter, reaching out and turning off the lamp.
I settle back down and drift into sleep.
The bed sinks, waking me, and I’m cold. I half blink, but it’s Nikolai, staring at me, so I just close my eyes again.
The sheets rustle as he slides in next to me, bare, hot male flesh pressed against me as he pulls me into his arms. His cock is hard, and it twitches against my ass as he brushes his mouth against my temple.
“I’ll keep you safe, Rose. That’s my fucking plan.”
I sigh and fall into a deep and sweet sleep, safe in his arms.
He’s not there when I wake, and it hits me.
Last night, when I was half asleep and he came into my bed, he didn’t do anything. He just held me, kissed me, told me he’d…what? He was going to keep me safe.
Everything is sideways inside, and I get up on shaky legs and shower. When I pull on the dress-no underwear-I’m pleased there are no buttons.
I’m pleased I was left to dress myself.
The house is quiet and still, empty, when I leave my room. I stand there in the hall, heart beating fast as I look around. It might be quiet, but Nikolai is here. I can feel him like a vibration in the air, a frequency I’m tuned into.
No one else seems to be here, but I know he is.
I descend the stairs, the smooth, polished wood cool under my feet, and I head to his study before turning at the sound of a tiny, distant noise.
He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, a folded paper in one hand, a piece of toast in the other. Next to him is orange juice, looking almost as good as him, and a steaming mug of coffee.
As much as I want to beeline to his juice, I want to go to him, too. He’s breathtaking, a small frown marring his brow, the shadow of his cheekbone on the left side where the morning sun hits. He needs a shave, but there’s something primal and hot about the slight stubble.
Oh, my ovaries…
He knows I’m here, though he doesn’t look up. He doesn’t move, but he knows. Finally, he speaks. “For fuck’s sake, Rose, you’ve seen me before. Quit staring.”
I glare. “I’m not staring.” I’m so staring. His mouth twitches very slightly at that lie. “Any juice for me?” I ask carefully.
“You can have mine.”
He makes no move to hand it to me, so I skitter over, just as he eats the last piece of toast. Nikolai’s hand comes down on my wrist as I reach for his juice, and he pulls me up against him.
“I’m trying to decide,” he murmurs, “if you’re being a brat because you ache for a spanking or something else. Do you want to be spanked, Rose? It can be arranged. Are you wearing panties?”
“You didn’t leave me any, so your note was stupid.” I’m slipping and sliding again. He’s too close, and for all the turbulence he sets off in me, I think there’s a part that wants him to spank me. I push it away.
“Making a point, little Rose,” he says, dropping a kiss on my nose.
I don’t know what to do with that. I come apart a little at the seams. It’s so casual, so matter of fact, so…normal that I almost start shaking, but he lets me go.
“Have your juice.” He steps away, but not before my gaze drops to his sizable erection.
“I’m still a man, and you’re fucking irresistible.” Then, he goes to the other side of the kitchen. “Toast? Cereal? Eggs?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ll eat.”
“Nikolai, I need a few minutes before I have food.” Because there are butterflies storming in my stomach. I pick up the juice and stare at the bright orange with the bits of pulp, the cold glass soothing. “Why am I here?”
“I told you.”
“Beyond that. I…I don’t know. I don’t get how you keep wanting to sleep with me knowing who that man is. I don’t know how I feel. Not…not about you.” Heat flares, but he doesn’t speak, only watches. His gaze burns into me. “You confuse the hell out of me, but I don’t mean that. I’m confused about me, who the hell I am. I thought I had an idea. I had a path. The pageants, the UN, all these plans. I thought I was someone else, and then… then my uncle isn’t my uncle, and my mom was hiding from my father, and my family is…”
I shudder, squeezing shut my eyes a second. “My family is horrible and dangerous, and he’s in me, isn’t he? That monster. You hate me because of him, and I’m not sure I blame you.”
“You’re not that fuck, Rose,” he replies.
“I’m his daughter. Ugh.” I look at him and take a sip of the juice. Right then, it tastes like nothing at all. “I’d hate me, too. I kind of do. He’s horrible. What if-”
“No.” He pulls a glass down from a cupboard, and it clicks on the marble of the counter. “That’s one mistake I’ll admit to. I thought you might be like him, but you’re not. Fuck, the fact that you want him dead tells me that.”
“Nikolai.” His gaze goes to me as he spins the glass.
“Rose. Derek Finnegan is an arrogant, violent, sick son of a bitch. He gets off on hurting women. Steph, your mom, she ran with you to save you. She gave evidence into our lives-in this business-and I’m not happy about that, but I think she did it in the hopes she could save you.”