Avrora
I rest my head against the wall and gaze at the clock on the desk across from me. The next few seconds tick by, heralding the start of another hour-eleven o'clock.
It's been night for a while now, and I've been sitting on the floor with my back against the wall in the spot Anatoli found me when we had our little encounter.
I returned to it when I saw him with that woman. I didn't see her face properly, but I could tell she was involved with him in some way.
As I haven't seen him since, I'm guessing he's with her.
I hurried upstairs when he noticed me, so I don't know what happened after. I regret that I was foolish enough to go downstairs in the first place.
It wasn't to eat. I needed some ice-cold water after the bomb he dropped on me. Passing the bathroom with a perfectly working tap of running water, I simply wasn't thinking when I went down the stairs.
I'd dragged on the stupid clothes he left for me, which I'm still wearing, and I really hope they don't belong to the woman.
I didn't think I'd see him again so soon, let alone find myself watching him. I'd heard male voices seconds before, so I thought he was talking to Jayce.
In the grand scheme of things, none of that matters. Nor the obvious fact that the asshole I'm supposed to marry in a mere five weeks is already cheating on me.
What matters is all the confirmations I've received of how screwed I truly am. Everything is fucked.
Every damn thing. And I don't know what I'm going to do.
As the time has gone by and I realized no one was coming to save me, raw terror settled in my soul.
I wasn't stupid enough to think Anatoli was lying or trying to scare me, but that didn't stop me from hoping things would be resolved. Or praying some miracle would happen to free me from this situation before the end of the day.
I'd give anything to be curled up in my bed at Dad's house.
It's Dad's house now, no longer the place I call home. My home was going to be with Mikhail. Now I feel like a nomad because this isn't home either.
And as for earlier-as in Anatoli stripping me naked and his talk of fucking-I don't know what to think of that.
I'm sitting here because I don't want to be anywhere near that bed. Plus, I'm near the door. I figured I could run if I needed to. In this big house, there must be somewhere to hide.
Could I hide from him, though?
Somehow, I don't think so.
I swallow hard and hold back tears. I haven't cried yet. I've been holding back and holding on to the last shreds of sanity.
Amidst everything, my mind keeps drifting back to Dad.
The same way I know about the darkness of my world, I know they kill those who cross them. The Bratva is ruthless enough, but add in the eerie secret society, and you know there's not an ounce of hope if you find yourself in trouble.
What worries me is Anatoli holding the same shit over my head. And apart from knowing we'll be married in a few weeks, I don't know anything else. I don't know if he needs to stay married to me for a certain time to get the company. I assume he might. If so, will he let me go after that? Or will his vendetta against my father mean he'll send us both off to the gallows?
Footsteps sound outside the door and, just like earlier, I know it's not the maid-Ehlga. She brought me up some dinner, which I ate, and she came back to clear the plates. That was at least three hours ago.
As Anatoli walks through the door, my entire body tightens. But instead of the deep-rooted trepidation I was feeling only seconds ago, the memory of how he looked at my naked body earlier enters my mind.
Upon seeing me on the floor, he gives me a narrowed stare and continues to watch me as he walks further into the room.
What's he going to do to me now?
The hour I feared has come, and I'm no more prepared for it than I was when I first realized I'd be sleeping with him tonight.
"Comfortable?" He smirks.
"I'm quite fine, thanks." My voice sounds hoarse, as if I haven't spoken for centuries.
He chuckles, allowing his jacket to slide down his shoulders. Then, without taking his eyes off me, he pulls off his T-shirt and I see that those muscles I imagined weren't imaginary. They're absolutely real.
Deep lines of rigid muscle run down the length of his torso beneath smooth tanned skin perfectly kissed by the sun. His pecs, sharp shoulder blades, and overbearing biceps look like a drawing of the perfect specimen of a man.
I no longer think he got the body he has from lifting weights in the state pen, or whatever prison he came from-not that I know any ex-cons.
Anatoli's body looks more like an athlete's. His muscles are too defined to belong to someone who only loves working out.
His tattoos are just as captivating. On his left arm is a swirl of roses, perfect for a wedding bouquet. His pec on the same side has the tattoo of the Scarfoni family crest. It's a Viking-style sea dragon with the sword of Myrridin going down the center. Myrridin was their Viking ancestor and one of the twelve founding Knights who formed the Brotherhood.
The crest is well known. I've seen the tattoo on the other brothers before, and I've seen it on the company design logo. It's just strange seeing it on Anatoli and thinking that he makes it look good.
And shit, I'm just staring at him. Gawking at the wrong Scarfoni brother. The man who's not my fiancé, or anything to me but the devil.