Kat
The haunted quality in Adrian’s expression tells me he agrees. His inner conflict is so palpable, I can practically touch it. I honestly don’t know whether I surrendered to being put in a box because of the CBD gummies he gave me or because he practically begged me not to fight him.
The guy actually tried to seduce me into staying quiet.
He didn’t try–he succeeded, I remind myself.
This experience is going to be ripe fodder for Dr. Delaney. We’ll be picking apart my Stockholm Syndrome for years, I’m sure.
The truth is, I was turned on by the “cage-time” scenario. Adrian’s got my number on that. That very fact alone would probably be reason enough for me to follow him onto a ship to America. Or jump off a cliff if he asked me to.
With him, I know satisfaction is possible. A resolution to the neediness that’s consumed me since I was sent away from home.
At that moment, the metal container we’re in bangs, and with a teeth-gnashing screech, the door swings open.
Adrian lunges for me, capturing me against his solid frame and covering my mouth with his hand.
A man stands in the doorway in a sweat-stained dirty shirt and a scruffy beard. He smells of stale alcohol–the kind that comes through the pores from the night before. He takes in the scene, his gaze lingering on my school-girl outfit and the way Adrian holds me captive, and it turns into a leer.
If I’d thought about recruiting help from him–which, for the record, I hadn’t–it would’ve died the moment I saw that leer.
The guy speaks to Adrian in Russian–something about showing us our room–and Adrian grunts then propels me forward. We follow the guy onto the deck of a cargo ship. My stomach churns when I realize we’re already far from shore.
So much for pottery. Or history. Or my first decent grade point average. Looks like I really am going to America.
By ship.
Adrian speaks to the crew member, who tosses another leering look over his shoulder and replies.
We’re led down a flight of metal stairs to a small bunk room with one bed. Adrian pulls me inside and shuts the door before he releases me.
“Is this my new prison?” I look around the small room. It’s plain, but there’s a round sea window with a built-in seat beneath it. I climb up and lean my back against the frame, looking out the window at the water. With a good book, this could be a sweet little nook. I can pretend I’m on a yacht.
“Yes.” Adrian walks around the room exploring things. “Not bad,” he says. “Could be worse. At least we have a window.”
“Come up here with me,” I invite. To my delight, he does, hopping up and leaning his back against the opposite side, his long legs tangling over mine
“What about my cage though?” I pretend to pout. “You said I get a reward and cage time.” I’d been one part turned on, one part scared at the time. I can’t believe I let him put me in that box and never freaked out. I guess the gummies helped.
It would be easy to demonize Adrian for this, but I see the good in him. He’s trying hard to spare me from trauma. Maybe I’m being foolish and romantic, but part of me can’t help but believe he’s a hero trapped in a villain’s role.
Of course, it’s one he volunteered for.
Adrian sends me a feral grin. It’s the first smile I’ve really seen on him, and it makes him look boyish and devastatingly handsome. “I plan to occupy myself with nothing other than using and abusing you for the next two weeks.”
If he weren’t smiling, I would take it a totally different way, but instead, his words light a white-hot flame of desire in my core.
He grips my calf and slides his hand up and down my knee-high sock. For a moment, I pretend we’re dating. He’s my doting boyfriend, and this is our vacation on a cruise. The loving boyfriend I never had. Of course, I know nothing about Adrian Turgenev. Not what he does for a living nor the foods he likes. Not even his favorite TV show.
Adrian removes my shoes, tossing them one by one to the floor beside the single cot. He picks up my foot and starts massaging it.
“Feeling guilty?” I ask with a knowing smirk.
“Perhaps,” he says.
“You should.”
He accepts that as his due. “You deserve all the rewards now malyshka,” he tells me. “You were a very good girl.”
My breasts tighten at his words. Or maybe at his touch because the foot rub feels heavenly.
“What are the rewards?”
“Well, I’m not bad at giving foot rubs.” He’s working my foot with both hands now. He is actually amazing at it. But then I start wondering whose feet he rubs. Where he learned this talent. I want to murder every girl he ever seduced with that boyish smile and these firm thumbs working along the pads of my toes.
“Whose feet do you rub?” I ask, trying not to sound as jealous as I feel.
“I used to rub my mother’s,” he says. “She was sick with cancer, and it was something I could do for her.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Did…did she make it?”
“No.”
“How old were you when she died?
“I was fourteen. Nadia was just ten.”
“How old are you now?” I ask.
“Twenty-six.”
“What about your dad? Is he alive?”
Adrian gives a faint nod. “He’s a drunk. He started drinking when my mom was sick. Now he’s pretty much drunk all the time.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is.”
“I was nine when my mom disappeared,” I tell him.
Adrian frowns. “What do you mean disappeared?” His brows dip like he already knows the answer.
I shrug. “I like to think she ran away. But I don’t know. There are many things I don’t know about my father and what he’s capable of.”