Page 40 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

He steps even closer and his eyes are bearing into me like drills.

He looks angry, he looks upset with me, but I can’t imagine what I did to him—apart from trying to fight him off before.

Instead of cowering or trying to run from him, I push my shoulders back and lift my head in defiance. I glare at him with every ounce of strength that I have in me.

He laughs again, but finally, reluctantly, he takes a step away from me.

“Watch your back, sweetheart. There are dangerous people around here,” he smirks. There is nothing friendly about his face or his words.

I don’t move as he walks down the passage towards the stairs. I stay with my back pressed against the wall, waiting for him to leave—waiting until I know I am alone in the house again.

I hear him open the front door—that’s when I run to the edge of the staircase because I need to see it with my own eyes. I need to see him leave and the door closing behind him.

He steps outside without looking back into the house.

The door closes and I hear the lock click into place. Not that it matters. He got inside easily enough. He must have a key.

Alone again, I feel sick to my stomach.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

All I can think about is that same fear that I felt when he stalked me. The helplessness I felt when he pinned me down in the garden. And the look in his eyes right now.

The mansion feels massive. It feels big and cold and very empty.

I am so incredibly alone right now I don’t even want to move from this spot.

My eyes are still on the front door.

How long has Avraam been gone for?

I want him to come now. I don’t want to be here without him.

When I can’t take it anymore, I force myself to go to the library and sit in the big armchair. It wraps around me and holds me. And from here I can hear the front door if it opens. At least if Royce comes back, I will know and maybe I can run into the bathroom and lock myself in there.

If he comes back in here, I have to do something.

I can’t put myself in that position again. He is dangerous. I see straight through his thoughts.

Avraam is out of the house all day. While he is gone, I don’t leave the library.

I am on high alert and focused on the sound of the front door, waiting, ready, filled with anticipation.

Outside it’s growing dark and with the darkness comes more anxiety.

“Please come home,” I whisper to myself.

When the front door opens, I jump with fright. I’ve been so focused, waiting for that sound that I created far too much tension around it.

I leap out of the armchair and run from the library out into the passage. Staying upstairs, I look down towards the front door.

It’s Avraam. He’s alone. And I have never felt so relieved in my life.

I bolt down the stairs, taking them two at a time and practically bowl him over with my greeting.

“Hi, hello. How was your day? You came home late. You were gone for quite a while today. Anyway. I’m really glad you’re home.”

The words spill from my mouth in messy strings of chaos.

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