Chapter One
Lily.
I wake to the sound of metal clanging. A rush of cold air invades my lungs making me cough at the sudden intrusion in my windpipe. My mouth tastes like shit but my nostrils are happy; there’s a strange mix of citrus and smoke in the air.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I scan my environment.
My vision is hazy and I have to blink severely before my eyes adjust to daylight bursting into the room through an open French window. The golden curtains are drawn revealing a figure with thick dark hair which is left to the wind as a plaything.
My thoughts whirl as I narrow my eyes at the figure. I discern a swirl of dark ink against pale skin, only to realize it's a man clad in nothing but a towel around his waist. I leap to my feet, only to be hindered by restricted movement, tumbling to the ground with a soft thud. A low moan escapes me as pain shoots through my arms, causing me to wince with relief that I saved my head from hitting the ground. My legs are bound by a metallic chain, my hands cuffed, and a neat black cloth tightly wrapped around my mouth.
Shit.
The French doors rattle and I still, my eyes snapping to the source of the sound.
It's just the wind.
My captor doesn’t know I’m awake yet. I have no fucking idea how I got here and the last thing I want is to be discovered, ruining my only chance at escape.
Seconds tick by, worsening my fears.
Where am I?
It's a Victorian-style room with tapestries, pot plants, and fucking vines crawling up the bedpost. Above me is a boat-shaped chandelier that shimmers in the light and on the ceiling is the painting of an unclothed woman on all fours with a man towering above her like a god. He’s holding a whip in his hands. The woman’s face doesn’t show fear, rather it looks like she’s expectant of the whip about to meet her flesh.
She looks like she wants it more than anything in the world like it’s a moment she has waited for all her life.
A chill runs down my spine. No one can see me looking at this image but my cheeks burn red. I revert my gaze to the ground before it gets imprinted in my brain.
Below me is a neatly woven rug, the same golden color as the curtains. I lift my head a fraction to find that I’d been sitting on a king-sized bed. On the left, there are lamps placed on a hanging mirror. My eyes travel faster, past a vase filled with plants on a champagne-colored stand, more draperies…and finally, I find the door left slightly ajar.
Perfect.
I try to still my rapid pulse, focusing on finding my breath.
Breathe in. Breathe out, Lily.
My mind’s telling me to relax—It’s probably a prank from the boys—but my legs are thinking differently. The last thing I remember is attending a secret party to celebrate my 20th birthday in the cellar. I remember going down the stairs with my fifth brother, Nikolai leading me into the room. It had been his idea to drink some alcohol, get high, and goof around before heading to bed. He’d gone as far as to buy me a black dress worth millions and a feathery mask for my face to complete the look.
I remember having fun. I remember winning a trivia game against my second brother, Damien. I also remember Lev forcing a cigarette to my lips while the rest of my five stepbrothers cheered me on. They hooted when I took my first drag and coughed into my hands then I proceeded to challenge Lev to another round of drinks and…
Well, that was it.
The boys were always good to me. They joked around most of the time but it wasn’t as rich as this. I’d received so many privileges back at the manor and occasionally I’d catch them nagging that the way our father chose to raise me was not the Rostova way. The Rostova way involved guns and weed, sex, and blood baths, secret auctions and sleepless nights. All my brothers except sweet Nik agreed with my father’s special care towards me.
I wonder how imaginative their slow minds had evolved to pull off a stunt like this one. A low chuckle escapes my throat.
If this is indeed one of their silly games, Lev would be thrilled to see me shit my pants. I’m sure he'll wave the footage around the manor to show everyone that I’m not as dainty and perfect as Rostova terms me to be.
Nevertheless, my Russian brothers wouldn’t dare to go this far to set off my father’s wrath, would they?
It isn't that I award myself great importance to the Family. It's just the way it has always been since I walked through those iron gates; ever since I became an adopted daughter to one of the most feared Mafia Lords in America.
I sigh inwardly and roll my body to the side, slowly inching toward the door. The time for brooding would come later. Now, I’ve got to figure a way out of this mess.
The floor’s made of wood and it kinda hurts to keep rolling on it. My entire body is in pain like I’d run a marathon on a hill.
I manage to make it to the foot of the door without any hindrance.
This is so stupid.
I’m a Rostova. The one and only daughter of the Family. I’m not some rag. I shouldn’t be bound in chains.
I throw my hands above my head and pull my body downward so I can reach for the tip of the door. One little push and it creaks.
Shit.
In a swift move, I throw the damn thing open, my heart leaping with joy when I see an empty hallway.
“Leaving so soon, Lily?” A deep male voice comes right behind me, making me halt in my tracks.
I become a statue, frozen in time and space.
When did he get here? I didn’t hear him walk across the room.
Something cold brushes against my left cheek—a finger. Then two.
They pause just beside my lips, then retract like they’d been burned by hot coal. I don’t waste a second, it’s now or never. I attempt to roll to the other side and shut the door quickly but he’s faster. His rough hands pull me back into the room while I kick and scratch the air for freedom. I hear the door closing with a bang and anger courses through me.
This is no prank. Whoever has me here doesn't want me to just roll into the streets.
“You shouldn’t be lying on the ground, Lily.” He speaks again, this time his breath fans my ears. He sounds angry too. A screech cuts through the silence followed by a low hum that makes the ground vibrate. Adrenaline pumps through me and I roll closer to the door frame. I’m trapped now but the door feels safe, like hope. That I can get out again.
When I spin to face him, I see a tall figure blocking the light. His head moves to the side, watching me with so much intensity before he takes a drag from a cigarette and drops into a chair.
“What the fuck are you doing, Princess?”
That voice.
I know that voice.
There’s a strong aura around him, one my body submits to without challenge.
I’ve heard that voice a thousand times in my sleep. It can’t be mistaken but I wish it was only just a mere dream. If this was reality then I’m in a lot more mess than I imagined.