Chapter 54 Chapter 54
Chapter 54
Nina’s POV
The living room felt heavy with the weight of the night. The fire crackled low in the fireplace, casting flickering orange shadows across the wooden beams and fur rugs.
Enzo lounged on the armchair, his leg bandaged and propped up, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Nikolai sat in the chair beside me, his breathing steady but his face still pale from the painkillers.
Dante paced near the window, his phone buzzing every few minutes with updates from who knows where. Nana hovered in the kitchen doorway, her apron untied now, eyes tired but kind. The moans from upstairs had stopped at some point, leaving a strange silence that made the house feel even more like a secret.
I rubbed my eyes, the tea and whiskey mixing in my stomach to make me feel warm but exhausted. My body ached from every bruise and cut, and my mind would not stop racing. “I’m tired,” I said, standing up slow. “I’m off to bed.”
Nana stepped closer, her hand touching my arm. “Won’t you eat something first? I can make you a sandwich or soup.” Her voice was soft, full of concern, like she thought food could fix the mess inside me.
I shook my head. “No, I’m good. Just need sleep.” I gave her a small smile, but it felt forced. She nodded and hugged me quick, her warmth a brief comfort before I pulled away.
I walked up the stairs, my bare feet silent on the thick carpet. The house was smaller than the beach one, the halls narrower, the ceilings lower, everything wrapped in wood and stone that made it feel cozy but closed in.
The cold seeped through the windows, frost patterns blooming on the glass like frozen flowers. I shivered as I passed a door where the moans had come from earlier. The air still felt thick there, scented with something musky and sweet. My cheeks heated at the memory, but I pushed it down.
From downstairs, Dante’s voice carried up. “This place is best for a hideout. It will be hard for anyone to track our location here.” I paused on the landing, listening. “The masquerade ball event was meant to blow up like that. Stupid Josh and Isabella just made it easier for us.”
His tone was casual, like he was talking about a business deal, not lives lost and bombs exploding. My stomach twisted. They had planned it? Used the chaos to get what they wanted?
I slipped into my room, closing the door soft. The space was simple but nice—big bed with thick blankets, a small fireplace crackling low, windows showing the snowy village below. Lights twinkled far off, the mountains dark shapes against the sky. I sat on the bed, pulling the fluffy duvet around me.
My life felt so boring now—trapped in these houses, no school, no friends, just waiting for the next disaster. I vowed to ask for a laptop tomorrow. Continue my classes online, figure a new way to run.
But then the thought hit me. If they sold me for one hundred million, am I not supposed to be free? The words echoed in my head, making my chest tight. I whispered them out loud, testing how they felt. “If they sold me, shouldn’t I be free?” The room stayed silent, no answer from the shadows. I curled up under the thickest, fluffiest bedsheets ever, the fabric soft like clouds against my skin. Sleep came fast, pulling me down into darkness.
But the dreams were nightmares. Gunshots rang out, loud and close, echoing in my ears like thunder. Bodies fell around me, blood spreading on white snow. Josh’s face leered from the dark, his laugh evil and close. Isabella’s eyes burned with hate, her tears turning to ice.
The sheik’s men grabbed at me, their hands cold and rough, dragging me into blackness. Everything came against me—the cold, the guns, the men who owned me. I screamed, thrashing in the sheets, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
I woke up gasping, sitting straight in bed. The room was dark, the fire down to embers, casting faint orange glows on the walls. My skin was slick with sweat, the duvet twisted around my legs. My throat felt dry, like sandpaper.
I looked around, eyes landing on the small fridge in the corner. Thirsty. So thirsty. And scared, the nightmares still clinging like smoke. I slipped out of bed, bare feet cold on the wooden floor. I grabbed the big comforter, dragging it behind me like a cape, and crept to the door.
The hall was quiet as I went downstairs, the stairs creaking soft under my weight. The fire in the living room still burned low, shadows dancing on the walls. I moved careful, the comforter trailing, my heart still racing from the dreams. But as I reached the bottom, I stopped in my tracks.
Dante was in the living room with one of the Russian women. She was bent over the couch, her fur coat thrown to the floor, dress hiked up around her waist. Her blonde hair fell in waves over her back, and her body arched, skin flushed pink in the firelight. Dante stood behind her, pants down, his hands gripping her hips tight. He thrust into her in a steady rhythm, doggy style, his muscles flexing under his shirt.
A chain covered her mouth, like a gag, silver links glinting as she moaned around it. In his hand, he held a whip—black leather, coiled loose.
He cracked it lightly against her ass, the sound sharp, making her body jolt and her moan turn into a muffled cry of pleasure.
She pushed back against him, her ass round and firm, skin marked with red lines from the whip.
Dante’s thrusts were deep and hard, his body slamming into hers with a wet slap that echoed in the room.
Sweat glistened on his chest, his dark hair falling over his forehead. He leaned forward, one hand sliding up her back to grab her hair, pulling her head back. Her neck arched, chain tight in her mouth, eyes half-closed in ecstasy. He whispered something in her ear, low and dirty, and she whimpered, her body trembling.
The whip cracked again, harder this time, leaving a fresh red welt on her thigh. She bucked against him, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, nipples hard and pink.
The sight was raw, sensual, making my body respond in ways I did not want. Heat pooled between my legs, my nipples aching under the thin top, thighs clenching as I watched.
The air smelled of sex—musk and sweat—and the sounds filled my head, her muffled moans, his grunts, the slap of skin.
I felt a flush spread over me, my breath coming faster, a dampness growing between my legs. It was wrong to watch, but I could not move, stunned by the intensity, the way her body surrendered to him, the power in his movements.
Then a warm body pressed against my back. Chiseled muscles wrapped arms around my neck from behind, strong and firm.
A whisper in my ear. “Shhhhh.” The sound was low, husky, sending a shiver straight to my core. His breath hot on my skin, his chest hard against my back.
My boobs ached with sensation, nipples hardening further, a pulse throbbing low. Who was it? The arms tightened slightly, holding me in place, the whisper lingering like a touch.
The moans from the room built higher, but I could not look away, frozen in the stranger's hold, heart pounding.