VERA
My finger teases along the sharp edge of the straightedge razor I found in the bathroom cabinet. The blade is for
cutting a beard but would cut a man’s throat easily. It’s so sharp. The thought of cutting Andrei’s throat with this razor makes my heart dance with excitement.
However, on the precipice of revenge, a quick and easy death seems too anti-climactic. Three years I’ve spent training and getting ready for this moment. There is not enough justice in this being over within a day of me arriving.
I know the brotherhood will kill me the moment I carry out my task. It will be worth giving my life for, though. My life is nothing anymore. The moment that man murdered my family was the moment I stopped living.
Andrei left me alone in this bedroom, allowing me the chance to find the razor. He has no idea who I am or what I intend to do. The sound of footsteps approaching the room has me flinging the knife under the pillow on the bed.
I adjust myself to kneel in front of the door, staring at the floor. The position we’re expected to be in whenever anyone above us enters a room. The door swings open and the man I loathe steps in. “I wanted to come and check on you.” I can see his shoes in front of me. “Please don’t act this way around me,” he says, the moment the door shuts behind him.
My brow furrows and I keep my eyes on the floor. “How do you wish me to act, sir?”
He clears his throat. “I want you to stand in my presence as an equal. I want you to look me in the eye and speak to me as if I’m a normal person.” He steps closer and lowers his voice. “As if you weren’t a slave.”
A request I will find difficult to follow, as acting normal with him will take much more effort. The detachment and coldness of interactions between slave and master would make this much easier on me. If he expects me to act civil around him, it will be more of a struggle to mask my disdain for him.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I force my chin up and meet his dark, hot gaze. The desire burning in his eyes makes my stomach churn. I’ve given up a lot to get to this point. Sacrificed every part of me, other than my virginity.
The thought of handing my innocence over to a man I loathe makes me sick, particularly a man who has taken everything from me this far.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks.
I will be once you’re dead.
I nod my head, unable to speak.
He reaches out to touch me, tracing a line across my cheek with such tenderness it makes me shudder.
“I wish to offer you a choice, but we will discuss the matter over dinner.” He nods his head toward a door in the wall. “You have clothes in there.” His eyes return to mine and he holds my gaze. “Dress and meet me at the bottom of the stairs.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, turning and leaving me staring after him.
Everything had been going as I expected until this moment. Andrei Petrov isn’t beating me or acting brutal toward me. His actions are unsettling. As fucked up as that is, I want him to beat me and act the way I expected. I want him to act the way I planned for. For the first time since I found my family dead, I’m unsettled. He hasn’t even got any guards watching over me.
Why would he have dinner with a slave he spent millions of dollars on? Perhaps he is trying to put me at ease before savagely taking my virginity like the monster he is.
I try to push the anxiety from my mind, focusing on my goal. There’s no rush. I’m here with him now and three years leading to this can allow a few days to decide how I want to exact my revenge. It has to be something fitting. The need to make him hurt as much as I did clawing at me.
I step toward the closet and open the door. It’s a walk-in wardrobe filled with expensive, designer women’s clothes. The clothes and shoes would excite most women, but they don’t interest me. He no doubt keeps these clothes here for every virgin he buys. My fingers tease at the expensive silk fabric of a black maxi dress that catches my eyes. I pull it from the hanger and slip it on, finding it fits me.
There is a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and I gaze at my reflection. I don’t recognize myself at all. My face is paler than when I last looked in a mirror. I’m thinner than before they captured me. As I look into my eyes, I can still see myself. The resolve and passion driving me forward. Revenge is all I want, the only thing I have craved since that day.
I step out of the closet, shutting the door behind me. The razor remains under my pillow, and I grab the hilt, folding the blade up and tucking it into my bra cup. The thought of being unarmed around him is too dangerous. After one last glance in the mirror, I leave the room and make my way toward the grand, sweeping staircase.
In another world, I would be a princess entering the large, exquisite hallway which would make a ballroom. Andrei waiting like my prince charming in a tailored suit.
In reality, life is anything but a fairytale, and those comparisons couldn’t be further from the truth. Andrei stands with his back to me, but when he hears the clink of my heels on the travertine floor, he turns to face me.
He has a whiskey glass in his hand and his eyes widen as he takes in my appearance. I watch as he sets the glass down on a side table and slips his hands into his pants pockets. His movement draws my attention to the bulge at his crotch, making me sick.
The fact he desires me in that way makes my stomach churn. The thought of having this man inside of me is wrong on so many levels.
“Krasivaya,” he says, once I’m close to him, surprising me with the word again.
A complimentary word that should never be used for a slave. It means beautiful, and it’s a word with respectful connotations, which makes little sense coming from him. He grabs hold of my hand and kisses the back of it, keeping eyes contact.
Despite my repulsion, I keep my facial expression neutral.
“Follow me,” he says, letting go of my hand.
He leads me down a lavish corridor lined with expensive paintings. The place is magnificently decorated, but I can’t admire them. The nerves twisting my gut make it impossible to focus on anything other than the cool metal against my breast. Images of driving it deep into his skull or slicing it through his throat flash through my mind.
He stops in front of a door and opens it. “After you,” he says.
I swallow hard, doing as he says and stepping into the room. The room is small and intimate—not what I had expected from a man like him. A round dining table takes center place in the room, dressed in a red table cloth. Candles are lit around the room and on the table, bathing it in a romantic light that doesn’t fit this situation at all.
This looks like a dinner set for a romantic couple. It makes the whole situation even more sickening, considering the real set up between the two of us. He has purchased me as a virgin to fuck. There’s nothing romantic about it at all. I wait for his command, standing by the door with my hands behind my back. The cold of the metal razor in my bra cup, reminding me I can always pull it on him.
“Take a seat.” He gestures toward the seat closest to the door.
At least it will offer me an escape route. I take the seat and fold my hands in my lap, keeping my gaze down.
He sits opposite me. “Do you have a name?” he asks.
Ice cold dread freezes the blood flowing through my veins. The virgins are supposed to have forgotten their names and admitting I haven’t may be dangerous.
“I know you’re supposed to forget, but I get a feeling you’re stronger than most,” he says.
I nod my head.
“What is your name?”
“Vera,” I say, so quiet I’m not sure he will hear.
He smiles, and it reaches his eyes. “Vera, so they didn’t break you.”
It’s more of a statement, but I shake my head. I glance down at the plate in front of me, stomach rumbling. It has a metal cover over it.
“I want to cut to the chase, Vera,” he says, setting his hands flat against the table. “I bought you at the virgin auction, but I don’t desire fucking a woman who doesn’t want me.” His eyes narrow and he stares at me for a few beats. “If you don’t wish to explore being my submissive, I will offer you employment at one of my other residences.”
Shit.
This is not going to plan at all. He is supposed to treat me like shit, like everyone else has to this point. If I don’t agree to be his submissive and give him my virginity, he will ship me off somewhere else. I need to be close to him to carry out my revenge.
The cold of the knife against my breast is calling to me. Perhaps I will have to attempt this sooner than I thought. Igor’s words still resonate in my mind.
He’s a monster. A beast who can’t be tamed. The man who killed your family.
As I sit opposite him, I’m struggling to put the two together. He seems too refined for cold-blooded murder. Yet, I have seen the images. The pictures of him standing over my parents and siblings bodies, knife in hand.
As I don’t say a word, he runs a hand through his hair. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Vera.” He shakes his head. “You need not decide right away. I want to make it clear to you I desire you far more than any woman I’ve bought before.” He sighs. “You are the eighth, and six of the woman who came before you, opted for employment at one of my residences.” He lifts the lid off his plate, revealing a steak beneath it. “Eat,” he commands.
I’m speechless, wondering why he would tell me this. The man is pakhan to the New York brotherhood. He can’t show mercy, not to a slave he purchased for a hideous sum of money. It makes no sense.
“Don’t be shy, eat, Printsessa.” Princess in Russian. I wonder why he would call me that. I’m a slave for God’s sake. I couldn’t be further from a princess. He turned me into a possession earlier on today.
I reach for the handle and pull it off, glancing down at the thick steak, accompanied with a side of mashed potatoes. My stomach growls at the sight. All we’ve eaten is salad and bread for twelve months.
My mouth salivates as the scent wafts around me and the sight makes me dizzy.
I eye the man sitting opposite me, before lifting my knife and fork. The need to control the situation is making me uneasy. This is the first time I’ve not known what will happen next. I predict everything with precision in other cases.