Natalia
I put the clothes on the bed of what looks like the guest room. Thankfully it has an en suite bathroom. I check it out. Everything is in there that I could possibly need, even tampons, and I grab a towel from the shelves and hang it on the nearby towel rod. I run the hot water and undress. I feel gross in my clothes, and the leather chafes my skin.
The hot water feels like a godsend, and my body relaxes. I whip around, though, thinking I heard the door open. I strain to listen and hear it close again.
Is he coming to shower with me? I’ll stab a motherfucker. I wait again, the wait feels agonizing, but no one enters the bathroom. Maybe he brought something for me to my room, something I forgot.
I continue to shower wearily, though. Then I hear a familiar sound and nearly jump out of my skin. It’s my phone ringing.
Did he bring my phone to my room? That’s awfully fucking trusting.
I leave it to ring, scared it’s a trap. Instead, I decide to act nonchalant. I get out and dry my body slowly. I wring out my hair as much as possible, then comb my fingers through it to get the tangles out.
My phone continues to ring, stopping now and then for short moments. Someone is desperately trying to reach me, and I bet anything it’s my brother or Ivan. I walk back into the room and search for it. My phone is on the bed with some trainers and socks. I continue exploring the room, ensuring no one is in there with me.
I then lock the door and lie on the bed. I switch my phone to do not disturb and curl up on the bed. I don’t know what to say to my brother or Ivan. When there’s a big enough gap between the phone buzzing with calls, I send a message to say I’m fine and I’ll call them later.
I then set the phone down and climb under the duvet. I could call them now and tell them what’s happened, that I’m being held against my will by one of the scariest killers alive. I might have to admit that I had slept with him before being taken, but it is not a detail I want to get into. But if I do that, if I try and escape by getting the family involved, then Daniel might actually kill me before they get here.
Dammit, I customized my phone so that no one, not even my brother, could track me down. It’s part of the reason I’ve never been caught.
I rest with my head on the pillow, staring at the door. I wonder if he’s on the other side thinking about coming in. His comment about rubbing my feet weirded me out. I don’t know where that came from, and afterward, he looked a bit out of place. That is not at all what I would expect from him.
The house is lovely, and I wonder how long he’s owned it. Though it is stocked with clothes, and apparently trainers, in my size. Does he kidnap and marry women often? Or is this something new, and he’s just seriously organized?
Why is he being so nice to me?
God, I have so many questions for him, but I bet on my life that he won’t be willing to answer any of them. I doze off for a few hours. It’s late afternoon when I sit up, startled, forgetting where I am. My phone buzzes like crazy beside me on the bed, and I look at the screen.
It’s Ivan. I can’t put this off forever.
I sit on the side of the bed, take a deep calming breath, and answer.
“Why is everyone panicking?”
“Natalia!” he roars. “We’ve all been worried something happened to you. Evgenii is out of his mind with worry because you didn’t come home last night at all. No messages, no nothing.”
“Last time I checked, I am an adult, Pakhan.” It’s cheekier than I intend, but it does its job and surprises him.
“Natalia, what are you up to?”
“I didn’t want to say, but I guess I have no choice but to tell you now.” I sigh. “It’s not that bad. I got married last night.”
“I’m sorry? Natalia, stop fucking around. Are you on a job? Tell me what you’re doing; that’s an order!”
“I’m not joking, Ivan.” I use my cousin’s name so he knows I’m being serious, and it’s a family talk, not a family talk. “I’m on my honeymoon with my husband.
“You can’t just run off and marry someone, Nat. Who the fuck is this guy? You’ve never mentioned seeing someone before.” I hear my brother in the background asking who got married.
Ivan ignores me temporarily and tells Evgenii to calm down; he’ll explain shortly. “Natalia, just come home, and we can work this out.”
“I promise I’ll bring my husband around to meet you. I just…” I pause, trying to think of the words I can use. “I didn’t think you’d approve of him. That’s why it’s so secret.”
“Natalia, give me the code word we used as kids if you need me to send someone to save you. It is entirely out of your character to date, let alone marry someone.” Ivan sounds worried, and I click my tongue.
“No code word needed, Ivan. I swear to God, I’m just on my honeymoon, and we’re not far away. We’re still in the city, but I want to enjoy my honeymoon. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t confide in you sooner, but you know I prefer my privacy.” I tap my foot, waiting.
Ivan mumbles something to my brother and then says. “You better bring this husband to a family lunch for me to meet him. You know I would approve of someone if they make you happy unless it’s someone involved in a family that is an enemy of ours.”
“No family. He does work in our world, but he’s unaffiliated.”
“A cleaner?” he asks. I can basically hear the frown in his voice.
I glance at the door. “Not really, but it’s not safe to have conversations like this on the phone. You never know if they’ve tapped our lines and are listening.”
“Check in with me daily, so I know you’re alive and safe, by message in the morning and phone call at night.” Ivan is not leaving any room for discussion.
“I will, Ivan. I promise. Again, I’m sorry for making everyone worry.” I wait, and Evgenii comes on the phone.
“I’m going to kill you.” The words are hissed at me.
I smirk, “I love you too, brother, and I’m sorry I worried you. Everything will be revealed soon. You’ll love the guy.”
Evgenii cuts the call, and I throw my phone on the bed. I hang my head. Weddings are a huge thing in my family. It’s almost the biggest thing. My parents, my brother, Ivan, and, oh God, Ivan’s mom will be so disappointed that I eloped. That’s what I want them to think, though, that I eloped with a secret boyfriend.
I don’t know how to explain to them that I’m married to The
Shadow and that this marriage is the only thing between me and my death.
I need to give Ivan more details. I need to come up with a solid story to tell him. I gave him as little as I could, but he’ll have more questions once he’s processed this. The shock will wear off, and he’ll start thinking about the unlikeliness of the situation.
I splash my face with water and then feel the room spinning. My stomach cramps, and I rush to the toilet. I throw the seat up and sit on my knees in front of it. I groan as I wretch, throwing up the alcohol I had last night. I realize I haven’t eaten for a while, and my stomach is protesting.
I don’t feel like going out and exploring the kitchen of our new home. I finish throwing up and wash my face. I find a still-packaged toothbrush and toothpaste and brush my teeth to eliminate the awful taste.
I lie back on the bed and wait. I wonder why Daniel hasn’t come to see if I’m still here. I mean, I could climb out the window and run off if I wanted to. It’s too easy, though. He’s probably got sensors outside that will trigger if I move through them, or cameras, or something on the windows that will notify him that I’ve opened them.
I close my eyes and clutch my stomach. I think it’s the combination of the anxiety of lying to Ivan, being married to Daniel, family disappointment, the potential threat to my life, and of course, the fact I haven’t eaten.
I mean, isn’t that enough to upset a stomach?
Daniel
I can tell that she wants to tell Ivan Volkov what is happening, but she wisely chooses not to. I can’t believe she doesn’t realize the whole house, including her phone, is bugged. I’m not a complete idiot. I’d like to know if she plans to kill me so I can make the first move.
I’m not some lad from the streets that’s been paid off to shoot someone and leave a mess. I’m a professional. I have been doing this since I was ten years old, trained from birth.
My family isn’t what you’d call wholesome, and we’re definitely not like the Italian and Russian families I’ve had dealings with.
I listen to her conversation carefully. Ivan mentions a code word, but she doesn’t seem to say it because he doesn’t sound like he’s rushing to save her.
I have a camera in her room and bathroom, but I am disinclined to watch them until I hear her getting sick. I check the cameras on my phone and see her leaning over the toilet. I don’t go in because I don’t know if it’s a ruse to lower my guard.
I watch her get back into bed and fall asleep again. It’s getting dark, and I suspect she’s out for the night. I unlock her room silently and walk in. She doesn’t stir, and I stand in the doorway for some time before I cross her room and sit in the armchair by the window. It’s facing her bed, and I watch her sleep. She looks a bit peaky in the moonlight, and I wonder if she really is unwell. I’ll make sure she eats in the morning.
I watch as her chest slowly rises and falls, and I remember sitting up in my bed in the apartment and groping, sucking, licking, and biting on her breasts and nipples. They were slightly more than a handful, the perfect size. They were firm and perky but definitely not fake. I’ve fucked enough women with fake tits to tell the difference.
She shifts in the bed, and I remain still. She settles, and I remember spreading her legs and making love to her wet, shaved pussy. It had been delicious and intoxicating. As my mind plays the mental images back to me, I can feel my dick starting to grow stiff.
I want to go over to the bed and lie beside her. I want to slip my hand between her legs and finger her to orgasm while she sleeps. Even better, I’d like her to wake up to ride my face and suck my dick.
I get up quickly and cross the room because if I don’t leave now, I might lose the one decent side of me. I don’t take advantage of women. My ma raised me that way, and I don’t intend to disgrace her memory now.
I walk toward the main bedroom, where I’ve unpacked my things. My phone dings in my pocket. One high-pitched ding. The sensors in the garden have been triggered because someone has jumped over the wall. I whip out my phone and thank Mick for making so much effort. I hit the notification. The perp’s by the kitchen, in the back. He’s just gone over the wall and creeping toward the back door. The lights are off; he won’t even see me coming.
I grab my gun. I’d personally engineered my silencer to dull the sound a lot more than usual silencers. People will hear a small bang, but not an alarming one.
I walk down the hallway and into the kitchen. I stand behind the door and wait calmly. I know better than to make a premature move. Rather lie in wait than give away your position and risk yourself.
The door handle jingles, and then I hear the scraping of lock-picking tools. The door swings open, and the figure slowly steps inside. He has a gun extended in front of him. Idiot. He has a gun and doesn’t even inspect his surroundings.
As he walks past me, I raise my gun and pull the trigger.
He crumples to the ground. I’ll have someone pick up the body. No, I don’t want people to know I’m here. I’ll bury him out back.
I take out my phone and check the camera’s around the house carefully. He seems to be alone. To be safe, I wait three hours before dragging his body out of the house. It takes time to dig a deep enough grave, but this isn’t my first rodeo, and I am not unfit.
I shove his body into the grave and bury it under a mound of sand before I go back inside. I’m surprised the bang didn’t wake Natalia, or maybe it did, and she just doesn’t want to know what it’s about.
After reactivating the outside sensors, I check on her via the camera in her room. It isn’t the same as physically being there, but I see that she’s only changed position on the bed to her side, nothing more.
I drag an armchair to the kitchen and sit there with my gun. I allow myself to doze lightly until seven in the morning. That’s when my phone’s alarm buzzes me awake. I leave the armchair, start the coffee machine, and take things out for breakfast.
I started cooking, not something I often do now but something I used to do every day with Ma. She loved our special time together when we cooked, and she could impart her lessons on me, not just the ones my father wanted me to know.
I hear the kitchen door open, but I don’t turn around. I’m not afraid of her hurting me. She knows my name is protecting her.
She comes in and looks around.
“There’s coffee in the corner, mugs in the cupboard above it.
Breakfast will be ready in ten, and yes, you have to eat, lass.”
She mumbles something, and then I don’t hear another sound. I glance back and see her staring at the armchair in the corner.
“Did you sleep in here?” she asks, looking at me strangely.
I shrug. “I like to rotate through rooms. It keeps people guessing.”
She shakes her head and pours herself some coffee. She sips it and smacks her lips, “At least the coffee is good.”
“At least the coffee is good,” I repeat with a chuckle.
“Now, since we’re going to be together for some time, I was wondering what things you’d like me to get for your entertainment.” I start dishing up her food. “Do you like to read? Or watch movies? What do you like to do for fun.”
“Do you do things for fun?” she asks, sitting at the island in the center of the kitchen. I place her breakfast before her as she continues, “Do you think we can afford some fun in our line of work?”
“Don’t be snarky. You like going out, you like drinking, and you clearly like sex.” I raise an eyebrow at her, and she shakes her head.
“I like spending time with my family, but I don’t see that happening.”
“No, not now, at least. Maybe in the future, if I can trust you. Eat, and you’ll feel better.” She looks at me with one eyebrow quirked, probably wondering how I know she is ill. “You look off.” I indicate her face. “Pale, and you retch louder than a cat with a furball.”
She rolls her eyes and starts eating her breakfast, falling into silence.
I eat as well. I need to maintain my strength.
“I’ll think about it,” she says suddenly, finished eating and pushing her plate away from her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a hobby, and I appreciate that I won’t have to be bored staying here. I’ll let you know. Is there a TV in the living room?”
“There is. I checked, and it’s connected to everything.”
“I’m going to go relax there then.” She gets up and takes her coffee.
I finish eating, completely ignoring her. I have my phone open on the cameras. She just lies on the sofa, across it really, and flips through channels. She has accepted this situation far too readily, and I’m sure those little gears in her head are ever turning trying to think of a way to convince me to let her go.
I load the dishwasher and put on a fresh batch of coffee. I need to think about this. I need to find a way to satisfy the heads of the families so that they will release the hit they’ve put on Natalie’s head. Especially now that they know her name and where she is. Last night’s guy wasn’t a random thief. It wasn’t a random break-in. He was there for Natalie; if the Dons were pissed enough, he was probably ordered to kill me too.
Now that would be an unfortunate mistake.