Page 67 of Disgraced (Russian Sinners 3)

Scarlett

My heart was beating widely, the rush still raging through my veins. When I saw Sergei walk through that door, I had to force my body not to move. It caused physical pain not to run to him and throw myself at him. He looked in pain, the scruff of his beard so much darker than his blonde hair. My fingers itched to scrape against it and feel his skin under my hands.

But the moment he greeted me like that… like he hadn’t kidnapped me, like he hadn’t lied to me, a trigger went off within me. The worry and need for him turned into anger for the lies and deceit.

There was noI am sorry. I had no idea what in the world he thought he could explain that would have made it okay to lie to me. Over the last two weeks, I worried whether he was alive or dead, if my future husband killed him. And he was my future husband.

Well, you lied to him too,my mind whispered. Yes, I didn’t pretend and lie like he did, but I omitted to him that I was promised to another man. I hoped for a summer fling, a miracle, but deep down I knew all along that I could never hurt or endanger my parents nor my brothers. If I refused to respect my father’s arrangement, my entire family would have become a target. Would Sergei kill them if I refused to marry him? Now, I wasn’t sure how well I knew this man.

Do I know him at all?

I heard footsteps in the hallway. I stilled, waiting, holding my breath while my heart raced. For a moment, the steps paused in front of my door.

Was he coming here?My heart thumped in anticipation. I was such an idiot.

Even knowing all that, I still wanted him. My body hummed with desire the moment his hands grabbed my wrist to prevent me from throwing another vase at him. Every time he touched me, my body melted. Even knowing his lies and deceit. He had been manipulating me the entire time.

And I was foolishly using him as a possible escape to my arranged marriage.

I hoped to escape it and went right into it. Now, if that wasn’t ironic, I wasn’t sure what was.

The steps resumed and an exhale left me, although I felt no relief. More like disappointment.

Damn him!

No, no, no. Fuck him! I should barge into his bedroom and demand my phone and freedom back. I walked to the door, my hand on the doorknob, ready to follow through with my plan. But the moment the image of Sergei undressing entered my mind, I paused. Instantly my body quivered with need for him. A low groan escaped my lips.

I wouldn’t be able to resist him if I saw him undressing, I knew it. I wasn’t delusional. Yes, I was a sad case of an idiot when a man that lied to me, was shot, and could barely walk still turned me on.

I’ll wait.

Tomorrow I would demand my phone and to be taken to the airport. If my parents thought I’d put up with this kind of shit, they were nuts.

* * *

Michail and I sat at the table in the dining room, both of us eating our breakfast in silence. Correction, he was eating. I was just shoving the food around my plate. The smell of the food didn’t bother me, but eating eggs in the morning was making me sick. Every so often, I’d put a piece of fruit in my mouth. It was the only thing not making me sick.

I debated whether to ask Michail if Sergei would be joining us for breakfast or lunch. Just when I opened my mouth, he walked in. His eyes met mine and as he sat down at the head of the table, his eyes never wavered. He looked better today, not as pale and exhausted as yesterday. He must be feeling better. My heart raced, but on the outside, I remained calm. I was actually impressed with myself. He was freshly showered but he didn’t shave. He wore a pair of black jeans and white shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower and I wanted to run my fingers through it, like I did when we took a shower together in his St. Petersburg penthouse. I wondered why he didn’t shave. I preferred him clean shaven.

No, no, no! I don’t care if he is clean shaven or not.

The cook brought a plate full of food and placed it in front of Sergei. He kept watching me like he was waiting for something. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to get it. I glanced at Michail, and noticed his eyes darted between Sergei and me. It would seem I would be the one to break the silence.

I waited and waited till I timed it perfectly. The moment Sergei put food into his mouth, I spoke up.

“I want my phone and passport,” I announced. “I’m going home, back to the States.”

Another silence followed, and tension you could slice with a knife filled the air.

I waited, unaware I was holding my breath.

Sergei continued chewing his food slowly, then took a drink of his orange juice. I scoffed in my head. Russian mobster drinking orange juice in the morning. It just seemed wrong.

He placed the glass on the table. “No,” he answered.

“You can’t hold me hostage,” I spat at him. “And when my father and brothers find out how you-”

“They already know,” he replied, his hard eyes on me. “You are staying.”

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