Page 28 of Kaid's Empire

“Of course, you know me, Mum. I am a free spirit.” I laugh.

“Stubborn more like. So if you're pushing back and standing your ground then there is no issue, unless you don’t like it. But I raised you right, and if at any point you feel it’s not right, or you feel threatened, then you leave––or if for some reason you find you can’t leave, you ring me.”

She's right. I have been. I could have left at any point, or I could have found a way to call her. If I really wanted to, I could have done those things. “God, Mum, my head is such a mess at the moment,” I admit.

She laughs, and I frown, wondering what she finds so funny. “Mum? Why are you laughing? Are you sure you haven’t been smoking the wacky baccy?”

“No, I am laughing because you are falling in love, and you are screwed!” She laughs again. I pull the phone away from my ear, just to check its actually my mum on the phone. She lets out a snort of laughter. “I was wondering if you would ever just let yourself go and fall in love, and I shall be honest, I was beginning to think you were either LGBTQ and you were just afraid of telling me, although lord knows why because, well, it’s me, and I've always told you since you were old enough to understand that love is love no matter who you are, or who you love.” She pauses, and I smile at the memory of her telling me this. “Or that you were going to vow a life of celibacy. So forgive me for finally hearing that you’ve actually let yourself go and are enjoying yourself, and by the sound of it you’ve found your match.”

“I know how to have fun, Mum. I know how to let myself go, I've travelled the world!” I defend.

“Yes, you have, but it was always for a charity or something else to help others, and I know you’ve had sex,” she states.

“Mum,” I groan.

“Oh shush. Look, this is different, you have never come to me about anyone giving you feelings like this before, so embrace it. Could your heart get broken? Of course, but believe me, the love and happiness you could have is worth the gamble. Now, if you could continue the every other day texts, please… just because you have a rich foreign man taking care of you now doesn’t mean I won’t stop worrying. Now go hug him, kiss him or give him one. Whatever makes you happy, just go do it,” she orders.

“Fine, Mum. I love you.” I smile.

“Love you too, baby,” she says before disconnecting.

I place the phone on the sun lounger and sigh. That would have been my moment to scream, to cry for help, but I couldn’t. Damn my mother and her words of wisdom, and she doesn’t even know the full story. I'm sure her words would be very different if she did. Damn, is it still classed as Stockholm syndrome if I liked him before he held me against my will? Either way, the bastard has won me over, and now I'm here because I want to be, not because he is making me.

Twenty-One

Theia

Walking through the ship, looking for Kaid, I find him sat in the lounge, on the sofa, his arms sprawled across the back and a glass in his hand. He is just staring out at the sea view. His eyes switch to me as soon as he hears me approach. I don’t smile or say anything, and neither does he. I chuck the phone on the sofa and straddle his lap, placing my hands on his shoulders.

“I spoke to my mother.” He doesn’t answer. I take his drink from his hand and the ice clinks against the glass. Knocking the drink back, I immediately regret it. Damn vodka. I cough as it burns my throat. Kaid smiles and shakes his head. “Jesus, how do you drink that neat?” I wheeze.

“I don’t down it, I drink it. Kroschka, I'm Russian, it’s what we drink.” He laughs.

“So”––I cough, clearing my throat––“you’ve spoken to my mother, and you’ve been assuring her that I am okay,” I state.

He nods. “Yes, I did. You said she worries.”

“I didn’t know whether to be pissed or thankful that you had done that. But hearing you say why you did it, I am thankful. I thought you may have done it so she didn’t call the police on you.” I shrug.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing would have happened if your mother had phoned the police.”

“That’s where you are wrong. You don’t know the lengths my mother would have gone to,” I warn.

His face turns serious. “Kroschka, I own the police.”

I frown. “You can’t own the police.” I scoff.

“Answer me one question… why did you not tell her then? You could have told her or you could have called anyone to come to your rescue,” he asks, changing the subject. I look over his shoulder and avoid looking at him, not really ready to have this conversation right now. “Kroschka,” he prompts.

I look to him. “I don’t know,” I answer.

Something tells me that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “When you know the answer to why you haven’t run, to why you didn’t call for help, then we will talk. Then I will tell you everything you want to know about me,” he says, throwing me off guard. Of course I know deep down why I haven’t, I'm just not sure I am ready to admit that to him yet. It puts me in a very vulnerable situation.

He sighs, taking the glass from my hand and placing it on the sofa. He cups my face affectionately, his thumb stroking my cheek. “My life is one that requires your absolute trust and belief in me,” he states before kissing me softly––something that catches me off guard, this soft caring side of him is a side he doesn’t show, not like this.

I feel like I have this desire to tell him that I do trust him. That there is something there for him. Taking my mum’s advice, I have nothing to lose. “Kaid, I––”

“Boss.” Mikhail walks in, interrupting me.

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