Page 17 of Twisted Obsession
Initially, my meals were sparse and uninspired, consisting only of thin, watery broth with a few soda crackers and plain water. But after two days, the relentless cramps that clutched my insides began to fade, and I finally received permission to eat solid food. This morning, Marta, with her usual quiet efficiency, caught me off guard with unexpected news.
“Inform Dmitri that I refuse to have breakfast with him dressed in just a t-shirt,” I retorted, lacing my words with sarcasm. “If he desires my company, then I require proper clothing.”
Marta acknowledged my demand with a nod and moved gracefully across the room to the spacious walk-in closet that occupied the far wall. Emerging with her arms full, she carried a light green sheath silk dress, its fabric whispering against her skin, alongside a delicate lace bra and matching panties and a pair of black slingback heels. All this time there had been clothes in the closet and not once had it dawned on me to look. Then again, the only time I was free was to relieve myself and shower. And even then, Marta only gave me a t-shirt to put on.
Marta placed the items carefully at the foot of the bed, then turned her attention to me, her movements precise and deliberate. From the pocket of her crisp, light blue uniform dress, she drew a key.
“I’ll wait for you to take a shower and then assist you in getting dressed,” she said, her tone matter of fact as she unlocked the cold metal cuff that bound my hand.
I headed to the bathroom while Marta waited for me in the bedroom. Marta wasn’t a very big woman, shorter than me, but not as slender. Even if I could get past her, there would be a guard waiting outside the door to stop me.
After Marta helped me get dressed, which was only because she valued her job and wanted to make sure I followed Dmitri’s instructions, we headed down the stairs to the dining room. Dmitri was already there, wearing a pair of blue slacks and a white button-down dress shirt. He was the epitome of power. His eyes darted my way as I stood by the doorway like he could sense my presence.
“Don’t just stand there like a child. Come and sit,” he ordered, picking up the napkin from his lap and running it across his lips.
This was the first time I had been in this room, only having passed it before Yuri had taken me to hell. As I looked around, I realized it was quite extraordinary, much larger than the dining room at my old home. The long table, made of deep cherry wood, seated at least twenty people. The room itself was warm and unlike the foyer, the colors were not as dark and the lighting was brighter. Tapestries hung on the walls, which showed the unique landscapes of Russia, if I had to guess. They were quite remarkable.
He sat at the head of the table, and I sat beside him at a place setting already laid out. I watched as he dished scrambled eggs, roasted brown potatoes, and three strips of bacon onto my plate. Reaching over his plate, he lifted the carafe of coffee.
“Coffee?” he asked, waiting for my answer before he filled my cup.
“Yes, please,” I replied, taking my fork in my hand, doing anything to keep my gaze from his.
Breaking our silence, Dmitri lowered his knife and fork and turned his gaze toward me. “I thought I would show you around the property after breakfast.”
Shocked, I coughed, almost choking on the bite I had just taken. “I thought I was your prisoner. Why would you do that?”
“You are not my prisoner,kukolka.Soon you will be my wife.” Dmitri reached over and lightly squeezed my hand.
I quickly pulled my hand away, and just as quick as his kindness came, it went. “Remember your place, Lara. I would hate to see you back in that cold, nasty cell.”
All I could do was nod. I hated that cell. If I didn’t want to go back, I had to do whatever he said.
~***~
Dmitri’s property was a breathtaking expanse of elegance and nature. After guiding me through the opulent interiors of the mansion, my eyes were drawn to the library, my immediate favorite. It was a sanctuary of knowledge, with towering shelves brimming with books that stretched from the polished wooden floors to the ornate, intricately detailed ceiling. The scent of aged paper and leather bindings filled the air, creating a haven of scholarly peace.
Once the inside had been thoroughly explored, Dmitri led me outside to the gardens, a masterpiece of horticultural design.
“My mother commissioned a landscaper to completely redesign the entire area. She loved flowers—roses, gardenias, dahlias—you name it,” he explained with a gleam of pride in his eyes. “She would come out here every day. It didn’t matter if it was freezing cold.” His words painted a picture of a woman captivated by the beauty she had cultivated.
“I can see why. It is very beautiful. You talk about her like she’s gone,” I ventured gently, hoping to delve deeper into his past.
“She is.” His voice faltered as he halted abruptly, reaching down to pluck a vibrant dahlia before turning to offer it to me. “There was a raid on the mansion. It was on my eighteenth birthday celebration. It was the day I was initiated into the Bratva brotherhood. We were at war with the Cosa Nostra over our territories in New Jersey and Massachusetts. They took thirty of our men as well as my mother and younger sister.”
I placed my hand lightly on his arm, offering a silent gesture of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Dmitri.”
“It was a long time ago.” Dmitri clenched his hands into fists, the memory of the raid still vivid and raw in his mind. “We need to go back inside. Soon Camile will be here to help you with your wedding dress. I trust you will be a good girl. If I hear otherwise, you know what will happen.”
I responded with a restrained half smile, nothing more. The firm grip he took on my arm revealed his awareness of my true feelings about him and his relentless obsession with marrying me.
As we stepped into the mansion, the grand entrance gave way to the conservatory, where Camile stood waiting for me. The conservatory was another beloved haven within the mansion, adorned with lush greenery and sun-dappled glass walls surrounding a sitting area. Before Dmitri released my hand, he drew me close, his warm breath mingling with mine as his lips brushed softly against my own. His tender, gentle kiss enveloped me entirely, not just with the allure of his musky scent but also with the realization that he was the first man to ever kiss me. I parted my lips, inviting him in, and felt his tongue playfully intertwine with mine, twirling and exploring, pulling me deeper into his embrace. I found myself craving more, drawn to his intoxicating presence, and instead of retreating, I clung to him, eager to savor every moment.
Our lips reluctantly parted, and his warm breath lingered on my cheek like a caress. “I am going to have so much fun playing with you,kukolka,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down my spine.
His departure left me in a haze, my mind swirling with confusion, as I stood there, brushing my fingers across my lips still tingling from his touch.What on earth was happening to me?
“Ms. Zhukov, I have everything ready for you if you’re ready,” Camile’s voice broke through the fog, snapping me back to reality. I turned to face the conservatory, where she had arranged an elegant rack of wedding dresses. “Two weeks doesn’t give us that much time.”
