Page 35 of Ensnared
Each kiss felt like a silent promise. A seal being stamped over her skin that could never be broken. As she opened her mouth to his questing tongue and fresh tears ran down her cheeks, she knew that no matter what she did she belonged to him now.
Chapter 20
Asthefirstlightof dawn crept through the curtains, Eve's body ached, a painful reminder of the night Dimitri put her through. Groaning, she sat up slowly, squinting at the bright light. She didn’t need to look around for her golden-haired captor, she knew by the emptiness of the air in the room he was gone—and for the fact that she could still feel the throb of pain from his partingkissesto her nipples from earlier that morning.
The black and slate-gray covers fell to her waist as she sat fully up revealing her mottled bruises along her breasts and neck. Again, Dimitri had pulled her into his arms last night. After leaving her yesterday morning to go back to his hotel, Eve had spent the day wandering around the mansion in a state of shock at the sudden upheaval of her life.
All day, she formulated and devised plans for some way to get out of this situation. Should she go to the police? No. What if they arrested her brother for his involvement? What if she tried to explain it to her grandparents and convinced them to leave? Then what? Dimitri was right, where would they go? Besides, Eve tried to imagine telling her grandparents the full details. Ricky's involvement with not just one criminal organization but two and not to mention the things she had to do in a pathetic attempt to save him. By the time Dimitri came back to the house, her hope was gone and her face was swollen from tears. That didn’t stop him from seeking her out, however. If anything, it made it worse. The man was a certified monster. She was convinced he enjoyed seeing her tears. He liked to work her body into a fevered state until all of her control was shattered and she was crying out for him, shamelessly begging him for more.
Eve closed her eyes, drew up her knees, and hugged them tight. She hated herself for how she responded to him. She tried to resist; she really did. But it was useless with him. She could still recall his smug smirk looking down at her as he held himself above her and drove into her body. There was nothing he did not notice. He watched her as if she was the source of his pleasure and nothing else, watching her break over and over again just for him. Clenching her eyes tighter until it hurt, Eve fought the urge to cry.
She hated him more than anything.
It took her another hour to finally get up, shower, and dress. His and hers closets discreetly hidden by secret wall panels reminded her of panic rooms she had seen in movies. In her assigned closet, only her small and somewhat pathetic overnight bag occupied the vacant space.
Dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black shirt, Eve pulled her hair into a ponytail and reached for her glasses on the nightstand. Her hand paused halfway toward the gilded spectacles as last night's memories flashed before her. Again, Dimitri had removed her glasses, a task she realized he liked to do. Eve shuddered at the memory. She could still feel his fingers lightly brushing the side of her face as he pulled the frames gently off of her face. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to stare at her with such an intensity that made her whole body quake?
"The evil bastard," she mumbled as she opened the door to the hallway and stopped.
Curled up in her bed just a few feet from the door was Mochi.
"Mochi!" she squealed and knelt on the floor as the gray-eyed cat looked up at her excitedly. "What are you doing out here, baby?" she asked in a tiny voice as she reached for the cat.
Happily, Mochi walked into her reach allowing Eve to pick her up and cradle her like a baby. Yesterday, she had set up Mochi's bed and litter box in the empty room across the hall. Normally, Mochi slept with her and used the little cat bed as an occasional napping spot only.
"I missed you," she cooed to the cat as she looked back down at the bed with a questioning gaze. The munchkin cat wasn't quite strong enough to move the weighted bed herself. Did that mean…Eve scowled at the bed and looked back down at Mochi who had her eyes closed as Eve scratched her neck. "Did that evil man move your bed for you?" she asked.
Still holding the cat, she made her way down the hall as she considered the possibility. Did Dimitri really move Mochi's bed closer to the bedroom door? Why? To have her closer to her or what?
She didn't understand him at all.
Going down the stairs into the large living room, Eve couldn't help but marvel at the opulent space. "It might be nothing but a gilded cage but I can't deny it's beautiful," she grumbled as she made her way into the kitchen.
The huge figure sitting on the kitchen stool made her freeze.
Looking up from his phone, Dominic, the hulking man who usually shadowed Dimitri stared back at her.
"Good morning," he said deeply.
Putting Mochi on the floor, Eve looked away nervously, her eyes darting around the long kitchen before settling back on him. She thought she was alone today. Yesterday, there had only been two men who had patrolled the outside of the house. No one inside and certainly no giants.
"Morning," she mumbled back. Granted, she shouldn't have to say anything to him, she thought.
Her face heated when she thought of all the times she encountered this man, each time he had been witness to her time with Dimitri. He was there somewhere in that penthouse suite on that first night and he was there that night Dimitri escorted her to her house and stayed the night. This man knew exactly what her situation was. Bitterly, she eyed him, trying to think of something to say to make her exit.
"I've been told to make sure you eat," his voice was soft and low; it rumbled like a soft storm deep in the distance.
"Are you my jailer for the day?" she asked.
His narrow eyes slid from his phone to her and he replied with an indifferent tone. "You can look at it that way."
"So, I'm to be trapped here, is that it?" she pressed, her voice tinged with panic.
He slid his phone across the marble countertop, the phone already ringing. "Ask him yourself," he suggested dryly.
Hesitantly, she picked up the phone as Dimitri answered. His tone was rougher than usual. Maybe it was because he answered in Russian. The naturally brusque language seemed to give his voice an edge.
Swallowing nervously, she replied, "Hello?"
