Chapter 8: Anne - Siberia 1

The man who just called me baby girl is as good-looking as Ivan, Dominick, and Yuri, but older—probably in his late thirties or early forties.

His black hair is cut short, and he also sports a five o’clock beard. He’s wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants, which makes it impossible to miss the tattoo covering his chest and abdomen—a cracked skull with its mouth open, a viper slithering out of it. Roses are on either side of the skull, one in each eye and one near the viper’s lower body. A crown of thorns rests on top of the skull, and a cloud of smoke surrounds the entire design. Both his arms are covered in ink, just like his neck.

I don’t understand the obsession with so many tattoos. I’m not saying it doesn’t look good on them, but why so many?

His light honey-colored eyes take me in. I quickly lower my gaze to my feet.

“You must be Anne. Am I right, Malyshka?” he asks. “I’m Dimitri.”

So this is the man I’m supposed to marry. I’m unsure what to make of him. He’s… intimidating. And he doesn’t look like the type of man who would take no for an answer.

A shiver runs down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the cold. I involuntarily take a step back before I reply in a low voice, “Yes.”

“Look at me,” he demands.

I hesitate before doing as ordered, unsure what he’ll do or say when he sees my scars. I doubt my father ever told him about my… disfigurement.

But Dimitri doesn’t even seem to notice. He simply steps aside. “You must be cold. How about you warm yourself by the fireplace?” He gestures to a room behind him. “I made tea—with a drop of honey. Would you like some?”

His voice is inviting, coaxing. He sounds…safe. Like I could trust him. Should I?

Trust no one.

But he seems nice.

I nod. “Thank you,” I murmur as I step inside.

When Dimitri spots my suitcase, he takes it from my tired hands without a word. “I’ll take care of this for you. How about you give me your backpack and purse as well, for safekeeping?”

Grateful, I slide them off my shoulders and hand them to him before heading toward the room with the fireplace, which turns out to be a cozy living room.

I sink down onto the rug next to the fireplace, tucking my legs beneath me, and let the fire’s warmth seep into my chilled skin.

Dimitri enters the living room a few seconds later and pours me a cup of tea.

“Dry roses, chamomile, safflower petals, and cornflower,” he says as he hands it to me.

He pours one for himself and settles onto the sofa.

I take a small sip. A rich, floral warmth blooms across my tongue.

“Good?” he asks.

A shy smile creeps across my lips. He might be Bratva, but I don’t think he’s a bad man. Even if we have an arranged marriage, maybe… maybe, in time, we can learn to care about each other.

“Yes,” I murmur.

He smiles back. “Then drink it all.”

I take another sip, then another, until the cup is empty.

It doesn’t take long before I start to feel strange. It feels like my entire body is on fire. I start to fan my face with my hand.

Dimitri watches me.

“Are you feeling alright, Malyshka?” he asks.

Why does he keep calling me that? I don’t like it. My thoughts turn slow.

I want to lie, but I say, “I feel hot.”

I move away from the fireplace, thinking it’s because of all the heat coming from it, combined with the warm tea I just drank.

“How about you sit next to me?” Dimitri asks.

My gaze drifts to the sofa. It’s been such a long journey, and I’m exhausted. Sitting next to Dimitri doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe he will even let me rest.

I nod in agreement.

As I slowly get to my feet, I get dizzy. I must be more tired than I originally thought. I carefully walk over to the sofa, not wanting to trip over something and fall.

When I get to where Dimitri is, I sit as far away from him as possible, still not being comfortable with him. But Dimitri moves closer and puts his hand on my knee, his thumb stroking me through the worn fabric of my jeans.

I try to push his hand away, but my body refuses to obey. I try again, but it feels like great weights are tied to my wrists. Dimitri chuckles while his hand slides up and stops in the middle of my thigh.

Panic starts to settle.

What’s happening to me? Why can’t I move?

Drugs.

Oh, God. No! How… how can he do this to me? Is… is he going to rape me?

If he does, don’t fight it. It will only make him hurt you more. Do as he tells you.

A whimper rises to my throat. I… can’t…

“Don’t hurt me,” I beg.

Dimitri presses a kiss to my temple. “I think you have the wrong impression, Malyshka. I won’t hurt you.”

“You spiked my tea,” I accused him.

“I did.” He doesn’t even try to hide it. “But so you won’t try to run away and hurt yourself, but your mind is still active.”

“Why?” I want to know.

“You are here so you can become the perfect pornai.”

At least I can turn my head around. My gaze locks with Dimitri’s. How could I believe, even for one second, that he was a good man?

“P-p-pornai?” I stutter.

Dimitri chuckles, sounding like he’s laughing at my expense. “Did you really think I’d marry you?” He laughs, louder this time, before his expression turns serious, and something malicious settles in his gaze. “I am sure my fiancée won’t be too pleased to learn that you want to become my wife.”

“Y-you’re engaged? Does… does she know what you are doing?”

Dimitri shrugs. “All she cares about is money. And all I care about is how good she looks on my arm. A win-win situation for both.” He places the tip of this forefinger in the hollow of my neck. “And you are going to bring me money, Malyshka. Lots of it. But for that, we will have to spend a couple of months here, while I train you to become a pornai.”

My vision becomes blurry.

Breathe.

God, I want to, but my lungs refuse to cooperate. Did my father know this would happen when he allowed me to come here? He must have. After all, he hates me this much. Oh, God. A pornai? This… this is my punishment for killing Isla.

I try to get up from the sofa, but my body refuses to cooperate.

Pure panic settles in.

I need to get out of here.

You will, but you need to be smart about it.

“Please,” I plead. “Don’t do this to me.”

He tries to brush away my hair, to reveal my scars, but I flinch away from his touch.

“Don’t,” I whimper.

He gives my thigh a small squeeze as his free hand cups my right cheek. “The first time I fuck you, I will be gentle. But only because I want you to see that I can be a good Master.” His hand goes to my neck, his fingers wrapping around it, squeezing me hard, preventing more air from reaching my lungs. Dark spots start to dance in front of my eyes.

Don’t panic. He’s not going to kill you.

“But disobey me and I can be very cruel,” Dimitri adds.

He lets go of my neck. I cough several times before inhaling deeply.

The hand he has on my leg moves further up.

“Tell me, Malyshka, have you ever been with a man before?” Dimitri asks.

A snort comes from the doorframe. My gaze snaps to the man standing there for who knows how long. Dominick—who says very matter-of-factly, “She’s a virgin.”

Dimitri looks at him. “How do you know that?”

Dominick arches an eyebrow. “I mean, look at her face.”