Page 9 of Owned By her Enemy
His hand slips up and strokes my hair, and I nearly purr at how good it is to be held. It’s been a long, long time.
“I didn’t think… I’d have got you out sooner if I had,” he murmurs.
Perhaps it’s the cold finally biting into my skin, or Nikolai echoing what my heart longed for over the years since my mother’s death—for someone to rescue me and they never did—but I’m alert.
I survived being locked in my bedroom for months at a time. I’ve left Tottenham Tower.
And I’mnearly out.
One more action, and then freedom. Never having to be trapped ever again. I’ll find my friends who watch my videos and tell ListeningToHer how they kept me afloat, and I’ll sing whenever I want. Yes, this will be a bloody step I’ve never made before, but what’s the alternative? Being another man’s captive.
No way.
I’m suddenly aware of the razor blade hidden in the underwire of my bra, and why I carefully wrapped tape over and secured it. To kill Nikolai Edmonton, and run away.
If I could elicit a kiss, maybe we’d end up having sex? He’s holding me, isn’t he? That has to mean something. I turn a little and tilt my head up, looking into his eyes. They seemed like stone earlier, but his irises are silver in the moonlight.
Parting my lips, it’s not difficult to fake passion and gratitude. My heart beats with it as I whisper, “Kiss me.”
For a second, I’m sure he will, but he shakes his head, once. From one side to the other and my stomach sinks. Just a short denial.
“That recording booth wasn’t what you wanted,” he states, looking down into my face. “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” A single hug can’t change that he killed my mother, and I lick my lips. His gaze dips to look and I swear desire flares between us.
“What do you want most in the world?” He puts me away from him. Not fast, and with reluctance that seems like he’s moving through honey, but firmly, until I’m no longer in his arms and the chilled air nips at all the places we touched.
To kill you and have my freedom.
I shrug. “To go and sing somewhere with a real background. The beach, or something.” I’ve longed to be by the sea.
“Tomorrow.” He nods. “We’ll do that tomorrow.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me on the balcony, staring at the night sky, confused.
4
LOTTE
I hesitate at my new husband’s bedroom door. An hour ago, he left me without so much as a goodnight.
But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes and, disastrous as it was, how a recording studio of my own is a gesture that speaks of some thought having gone into our marriage. If I allow this to go on for too long, I’ll end up romanticising what is undoubtedly manipulation by a powerful man.
It’s a mouse knock on his door, scared of my own boldness. Terrified by my fear and my intentions.
“Come.”
Nikolai is sprawled on a leather sofa, a tatty paperback in one hand and a glass of amber liquid in the other.
“What if Iwantedus to consummate our marriage?”
He quirks an eyebrow as he looks up. “Ready to beg, ptichka? I thought you had more pride.”
“We’re married.” I square my shoulders, then internally wince. That’s really not the seduction vibes I was thinking of. “I’m a virgin. This might only be an arranged marriage, but I have my pride, and so do you. If it gets out that I’m still an innocent, it’ll jeopardise the deal.”
Setting down his book, he takes a sip of whisky and palms down the front of his trousers. And oh shit. There’s an intimidating bulge there. He’s hard. And huge. My mouth waters and something in my tummy does a flip.
His expression remains neutral. “Are you wet for me?”
