Page 9 of The Savage

I’m irritable and antsy and start prowling around the apartment, wishing I could smash it to pieces.

To my surprise, her soft voice wafts across the room like a summer breeze on a stifling day. “Then we must make the best of it. Show me to the kitchen. There must be some cleaning things here. Perhaps I can smarten it up a little and brighten the place up. It may not be so bad.”

Her voice shakes as she forces a brightness to it and I snarl, “Then you’re deluded if you believe anything can smarten this shithole up, but be my guest and try.”

I head to the crumbling cupboard in the corner where I retrieve a bottle of vodka and, tearing the cap off, I chug down a strong measure.

“That won’t help the situation.” She sounds disapproving and I growl, “Maybe not, but it may make it bearable. Want some.”

I thrust the bottle toward her, and she sniffs. “I’d prefer a cup of tea. Do you think we should find a shop to get some milk? Unless there is a well-stocked fridge, that is.”

“You’re going nowhere.”

She looks a little shocked as I storm pass her into the small kitchen and wrenching open the door see it’s crammed full as requested. We employ someone local who looks after this place and stocks up on demand and there is enough food in here to last for several weeks. The cupboard is no exception and as I open it, I see it is stocked with everything I requested.

Charlotte gasps over my shoulder. “Is that English tea, or is it a mirage?”

I conceal the grin her words create and pull the box down.

“As ordered. You see, princess, I did my research and made sure to order everything a British girl loves, and we have no need to leave these four walls until our ride home.”

The fact the space is so small means she is always within reach and as she tries to shuffle back awkwardly, I feel the heat building between us and it’s not because of the close confinement of the room.

I briefly wonder if it would help pass the time to corrupt this delectable English Rose, but always standing there like an avenging angel on her shoulder is the bastard she will call daddy from now on.

Tossing the box toward her, I say rudely, “Sort yourself out. I’ll be entertaining my new best friend.”

Grabbing the vodka, I leave her behind and head to my room. Luckily, we have two bedrooms, so it will give me some space and, as I lie on the bed and shift up against the pillows, I prepare myself for a very difficult stay.

CHAPTER7

CHARLOTTE

Russia is living up to every image I had of it so far, and none of it is good. The men are rough and angry, which matches the landscape perfectly. I’m still trying to get over the shock of being here at all and as I make the tea, I briefly consider making my captor a coffee because if he gets drunk, I may not be safe.

I see the expression in his eye before he guards it well. There’s an interest there that should have me strapping every knife in this kitchen over my body. I’ve never been with a man before, but I’ve imagined it thousands of times while I read the pages of my latest romance novel, magazine story, or watched a scene from a film.

There is a morbid curiosity about the sins of the flesh and the girls at Rose Hall Academy speak about it with hushed whispers and nervous giggles. Some have tales to tell of an act that sounds so disgusting it made us gag. A horrifying pastime that shouldn’t even be legal. But it is, and for some reason, I’m curious about that. Especially now, because my savage is the sexiest man I have ever met, and I have an overwhelming urge for just one taste.

The fact I also hate him pours cold water on my lustful thoughts and I can only hope that vodka does the trick and renders him unconscious before the night is out.

So, taking my chance, I explore the apartment and my heart sinks with every door opened when I see basic living in all its glory. It’s almost as if they went to the local rubbish tip to furnish it and there’s the strangest aroma I don’t think I will ever get used to.

I start searching for clues as to my captor’s identity so I can alert the police when I am returned home.

My phone is lost, probably when I was bundled into the car, so I have no communication with the outside world.

I just need to get a message to my father to tell him where I am, and he will send in the police to come and get me. Perhaps I can escape the apartment and find the local police station myself. They would help me, surely.

Feeling bold, I head toward the door we came in from and with a thumping heart, I grip the handle and turn. Then it sinks when the door stays firmly shut, revealing the savage has locked us in.

Turning, I glance across at the windows and note we are on the top floor, or at least it seems that way. It’s definitely too high to jump and there isn’t even a rusty fire escape outside to help me.

I am trapped in an apartment in, what did he call it, the most depressing city in the world and my only companion is probably under strict orders to kill me at a moment’s notice.

A wry laugh escapes me when I remember that only a few hours ago I was praying for something good to happen. To live life on the edge. To be honest, this wasn’t what I had in mind.

Resigned to it for now, I make the tea and almost groan as the caffeine hits my bloodstream and it’s as if a little piece of home made it here with me.

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