Page 2 of The Crimson Lily
“You’ve been a bad girl, Liliana,” she says. Her voice is so incredibly soft. “You forgot to check in with us.” She makes an exaggerated pouty face to dot her sentence.
At this point, the fear leaves me, and I’m just confused. Who are these people? Do I know them? Apparently…But why am I tied up on the floor, and why is there a sexy Russian lady telling me I’ve been a bad girl?
Smack.
Ouch to the ego—I’ve just been slapped in the face.
Svetlana here veers her gaze to Vladimir there—yes, these are the Russian names I’ve just given them. She flicks her chin at him. I don’t understand any of these gestures, but he obviously does because he ambles away from us with a phone in his hand. She turns back to me.
“Liliana, when we give you an instruction, it’s not hard to”—she rolls her eyes—“just do as you’re told.”
An instruction? What?Who the hell are these people?By the way, I’m still mute and petrified. If they want me to respond, they’d better make this experience more comfortable! Svetlana here scares me to death. As if she’s heard my silent plea, she strokes my face again, wiping off the new tears that have materialized. She takes the ball of cloth out of my mouth and taps it carefully under my nose.
“I’m sorry about your nose,krasotka,” she purrs like she’s singing a lullaby—one with a strong Russian accent, but a sweet lullaby nonetheless. “Let me clean that.”
I don’t feel much. My nose isn’t broken, that’s for sure. After she’s done tapping above my lip with the cloth, I meet her hazel eyes and she smiles at me.
“That is better!” she exclaims like a proud big sister. “Now, Liliana, why have you been silent for two months?”
I don’t drop her gaze, but I wriggle a little to test if I’m able to move. Good, I can still move my legs. I take a deep breath and muster a shot of bravery to respond to her question with my own.
“Who are you?” I ask innocently, realizing at the same time that this will only make her furious.
If I know these guys, my ignorance can only look like a foolish lie, an attempt to run. Of course, her eyes flame at my inquiry. I know she’s about to slap me again, so I hold my tied-up wrists in the air to block any incoming projectile.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I beg. I have to think fast. Apparently, I’ve known these creeps in my previous life, but I have to find something to prove I don’t remember…
The medical report!
“Check on my desk!” I yell, or rather yelp. “The papers with a hospital logo! I swear, whatever business we had, I have no memory of it!”
By now, I’m pretty sure I’m dealing with the Russian mafia. I don’t know how I got that idea, but an aggressive Russian duo talking about a job they’ve given me doesn’t really leave me many other options, does it?
She completely disregards the information I’ve given her. Instead, she looks at her buddy, who only now do I notice has opened my door and is letting a third person inside my apartment. I don’t see the new man’s face, but I hear his footsteps, slow and controlled. I see a tall and dark figure shake hands with Vladimir there and turn to the woman.
“Privet, Maksim,” she greets him first in a monotone. She doesn’t really seem delighted to see him. Nor am I, by the way.
“Privet, Olga,” he responds in a deep and husky voice, yet matching her tone.
So, it’s Olga, not Svetlana. Better luck next time! Maybe…with Vladimir?
Olga rises back to her red pumps and says a few indistinguishable Russian words to the new visitor. She takes four steps away and crosses her arms.
“Took you long enough, Maksim,” she says in English with a sneer.
He does not respond; he just walks toward me. Vladimir goes to fetch one of my wooden chairs and places it by my feet. Within seconds, I am lifted off the ground. Maksim has locked his hands around my waist, and he leads me to the chair. He is so much taller than I am, towering above me like a parent would a child.Vladimir proceeds to tying me up so tightly I can’t even feel my blood anymore. I can’t move. I’m back to being immobilized. I’m officially terrified now, especially when I notice Maksim strapping something like a black shoelace around his fist. His eyes are fixated on me, then his gaze descends to my legs. Oh, yes, I’ve been wearing my large pink shirt all day. It usually reaches about halfway down my thighs, but now, my underwear is showing. I feel humiliated. I’m in pajamas, and I’m about to get interrogated in them. That’s what’s going to happen. This Maksim guy is going to beat whatever information out of me that I have no idea I have! Panic overtakes me. I start to cry again, to squeal. I beg him, my eyes glazed with tears.
“Please, I don’t know anything, I swear!” I rasp with cracks in my voice. “I swear! Check the medical file on my desk, you’ll see!”
My words are like inanities to them.
“There are pills in the bathroom,” I add. I can barely speak anymore. “Anxiety pills they give to amnesia patients like me!”
Maksim leans over, closer to me. I can now see him fully. He has a square face with a sharp jawline. His cheekbones are roughly sculpted, giving him a strong and rigid allure. The color of his eyes is like nothing I have ever seen. Pure, cerulean blue, with a silver flare. His lips are full, like he’d make taking a bite of a juicy steak something pleasant to see.
I hold his gaze, my chest heaving, my heart about to burst. “The medical file?—”
I’m interrupted by a firm grip on my chin.
