Chapter 22—Persephone

Bright sunlight spilling through the window wakes me from a deep slumber.

I shield my eyes with the back of my hand and prop myself up onto my elbows.

Glancing down at myself I wince when I see I’m lying on top of the bed naked, without so much as a sheet covering me.

I sit up, feeling the soreness between my thighs and instantly vivid memories of how ruthlessly Lukiyan claimed me fill my mind.

We had sex two more times after he accepted my offer. Those times were just as rough as the first time, with the absence of the knife.

Last night was darker than the first time we were together.

I went over a line I didn’t even know existed for me to cross and relished in his touch, savoring his name on my lips as I called out for him again and again.

Reaching for the cool silk sheets, I cover myself and look around the room, my gaze falling on the salmon walls then the white door leading into the ensuite.

I listen carefully to see if he’s in there, but I don’t think he is.

There’s no sound coming from inside, so I’m alone.

I release a labored sigh and bring my hand to my head.

What am I doing?

What am I actually doing?

This is my version of doing anything to save my father, and Lukiyan accepted.

I should feel more relieved. I am, but I truly feel like I’ve sold my soul to the devil.

And was it enough to save my father?

I don’t know.

Maybe it saved him from Lukiyan but what about these other people?

There’s still missing information I need answers to.

With that in mind I get off the bed, take a quick shower then go downstairs.

I already know it must be close to lunchtime before I catch a glimpse of the grandfather clock in the living room.

A delicious aroma envelopes me when I turn the corner and find Lina in the kitchen with two younger maids who smile at me. Both look similar and have dark hair. They also look like they couldn’t be that much older than me.

“Morning,” Lina greets me.

“Morning to you all.” I acknowledge the three women with a smile.

“These are my daughters, Vanessa and Colleen.” She points at them respectively. “They don’t speak English very well but they understand you.”

“Good to meet you,” I say. They seem nice and it is good in general to meet people with smiling faces, but the situation is at odds with why I’m here.

Surely they must know I’m a prisoner, but perhaps they’re used to that sort of thing. The only other men I know who are as ruthless as those in the Camorra are the Bratva. So, I’m certain these ladies have seen the dark side.

“I’ve made brunch,” Lina states proudly, pointing to the oven. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“I love it.”

“Fantastic. Have something to eat then I’ll give you the tour of the house and the grounds.”

Clearly she’s been given her orders.

“Where is Lukiyan?”

“He’s working.”

Working? What exactly does that mean?

And who is he working for?

“When is he going to be back?”

“Probably by dinner time.”

Great. I have to wait again.

“Take a seat and I’ll serve you up some food.”

Again I feel like I’m going to rip my skin off and Hulk out from the torture, but I take a seat at the breakfast table and keep my cool.

I’m given the tour of the place which takes a little over two hours.

On the surface, at least it gave us something to do. Beneath that, I think Lina was entrusted with the task of watching me.

I’m impressed and surprised at how big the house is and the vast landscape which includes a private beach.

The house is also heavily guarded just like I was told.

Any fleeting thoughts I might have had about escaping flew right out of my mind the moment I saw what I was up against.

The tour ends at the rose garden we started with which is just by the terrace.

We sit around the little wicker table and Vanessa brings us a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and some chocolate chip cookies.

She pours us both a glass of lemonade then heads back into the house.

“How long have you worked here?” I rest my hands in my lap.

Lina smiles proudly. “Forty years. I actually grew up here on these grounds. My family have always worked for the Kozlovs.”

“Kozlov?” I think for a moment and remember Lukiyan is adopted.

Lina looks a little thrown off guard and I guess that maybe she shouldn’t have told me that.

“Yes.”

“It’s okay, Lukiyan told me he was adopted.”

Relief washes over her face. “Ahh, good. Kozlov was his adopted father’s surname. Lukiyan kept Romanechka out of respect to his birth mother. It was also a way to remember her. He… thought nobody would remember her otherwise. That was his way of keeping her memory alive.”

It’s strange, I feel like we could be talking about two different people.

“That’s really sweet.” And now I’m wondering about his real mother.

“He knew his birth mother?”

“Yes. She died when he was twelve and after that he and his sister were adopted by the Kozlovs.”

Last night when he said everyone died, he really did mean that. It’s sad. It’s good though that he got to go to a family with his sister. I’m guessing she would have been around five at the time. Some of the people in the circle I know who have adopted wanted babies. It’s touching when people adopted older kids and go so far as to keep siblings together.

“The Kozlovs sound like good people.”

“They were.” She nods.

Good, but their son is one ruthless bastard.

Still, I’ve only been given dribs and drabs of his story, and all that I’ve been told has given me a glimpse of the monster behind the man.

Death can do that to a person—turn him into a monster.

I finish my lemonade and we start eating the cookies, while Lina talks about Russia.

I’m fascinated, until I see the man from yesterday approaching us.

Instantly I straighten up, on guard, remembering not to get comfortable.

He dips his head at Lina then looks at me. “Lukiyan wants to see you. I will take you to his office.”

He’s back.

Thank God I don’t have to wait until late tonight, but something tells me I’m in for another round of crazy when I go to that office.