Page 28 of Hostage with Benefits

I pressed my head back against the door, torn between the urge to open it and the fear of what would happen if I did.

“I've been trying to find a way to ask you to stay,” he continued when I remained silent. “Not as a hostage. Not as a... whatever you think this is. But maybe something more.”

A laugh-sob escaped me. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop... being like this. Stop making me feel things.”

“I wish I could,” he rasped. “Believe me, I've tried to stop feeling things for you. It would be so much simpler if I could.”

The tears were flowing freely now, and I hated myself for them. I hated that part of me wanted to believe him, wanted to throw open the door and fall into his arms like this was some fairy tale instead of a fucked-up hostage situation.

“I found you in that parking lot, and every moment since then, you've surprised me. Challenged me. Even made me laugh when I thought I'd forgotten how.”

I heard a soft thud against the door from the other side.

“I'm going crazy,” he continued, lower now, as if speaking to himself as much as to me. “Thinking of ways to keep you here. Telling myself just one more day, just one more chance to make you smile. You light up every dark corner of my life, kukolka. With your sharp tongue and the way you roll your eyes when you think I'm being dramatic. The way you looked in that blue dress, like something from a dream I didn't quite remember but now that I saw it, I just knew.”

Kukolka. Little doll. The endearment made something twist in my chest.

“You stole everything.” His voicecracked slightly. “My control. My thoughts. My heart. And I let you, because even theft feels like a gift when it comes from you.”

I heard a shaky inhale from the other side of the door. “I would let you go if that's what you truly wanted. Right now. I'd have Dmitri drive you home. But I had to try... I had to see if maybe, if I gave you enough time, you might feel even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

The rawness and vulnerability in his voice were so at odds with the controlled, dangerous man who had kidnapped me that I couldn't reconcile the two. And yet, they were the same person. The man who could throw me over his shoulder without effort and the man who was now practically begging outside my door were one and the same.

I got up and reached for the lock before I'd consciously decided to do so. The click seemed unnaturally loud in the silence that had fallen.

I opened the door slowly, not sure what I expected to see.

Mikhail stood there, his usual perfect composure completely shattered. His hair was mussed, as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes were red-rimmed, wet with tears he was fighting not to shed.

“Natalia,” he breathed, my name a prayer on his lips.

We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us speaking. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, we moved simultaneously. His arms went around me as mine went around him, holding on like we were both drowning and the other was the only lifeline in sight.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “I'm so sorry for how this started. For not telling you the truth. For being a coward.”

I pressed my face against his chest, inhaling his scent. “This is insane. You know that, right? This whole situation is completely insane.”

“Yes.” I felt him nod. “But does that mean it can't also be real?”

I pulled back to look up at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. All I found was naked vulnerability, hope and fear warring in his eyes.

“I don't know what'sreal anymore,” I admitted. “I don't know if what I feel is Stockholm syndrome or... or something else. But I do feel something. And it scares the hell out of me.”

A tentative smile tugged at his lips. “That makes two of us.”

“What happens now?” I asked, the question encompassing so much more than just the immediate future.

“Whatever you want,” he said. “If you want to leave, I won't stop you. If you want to stay...”

“I don't know what I want.”

He nodded, accepting my words. “Then stay until you do know. Just... stay. Please.”

It wasn't a solution. It wasn't even a plan. But as I looked up at this man who was my kidnapper, my lover, my something-I-couldn't-yet-name, I nodded.

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