Page 42 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“I guess being abducted has ruined my appetite.”

She doesn’t react to my sarcasm at all. But she does take the empty seat next to mine.

“Starving yourself isn’t going to get you free any faster,” she says, offering me the tray of cookies. “Try one; they’re delicious. I had the chef bake a batch this morning. They’re best when they’re eaten fresh.”

Even in the midst of my captivity, I can’t bring myself to be rude. I want to refuse her, but I grab a cookie anyway.

She hums in satisfaction, sets the plate down, and gazes out over the garden. “The hydrangeas on the east side are looking a little shabby, don’t you think? I’ll have to get the gardeners to come in an extra day next week.”

“Does that make you the housekeeper?” I ask.

“You could say that.” She takes a bite of the cookie in her hand and sighs. “So lovely. I love the taste of coconut.”

“I’m sorry, but do you really expect to sit here and make small talk with me?”

She chuckles pleasantly, but again, I detect a measure of steel just below the veneer of her manners. She is a tough woman; that much is certain.

“Everyone hates small talk,” she remarks. “But how else do you start a conversation with a new friend?”

“Where is he?” I ask, cutting to the chase.

“Working,” she says, still unfazed. “He’s always working.”

“I want to speak to him.”

“I’m sure you do.”

I grit my teeth, but I force back the resentment that’s building up inside me. “I need to speak to him. Please?”

“My dear, Aleksandr is not the type of man to do anything just because you ask nicely.”

My heart sinks. If I can’t even talk to him, then how can I convince him to let me go? Or at the very least, ask him for proof that my family is alright?

I’m not sure this woman, Yulia, will have the information I want. But I give it a shot anyway.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

She nods. “I have a vague idea.”

I frown. “And you don’t have a problem with the fact that I’m being kept here against my will?”

“You’d be surprised what a person can ignore if the stakes are high enough. You’d be surprised what a person will tolerate. It’s all about familiarity.”

“Meaning what?” I ask. “You can get used to committing crimes if you do it long enough?”

“Something like that.”

I stare at her, realizing just how little I relate to this alien stranger. She probably feels the same way about me. I watch her nibbling at her cookie. Even the way she eats is dainty, graceful, composed.

My stomach rumbles. She notices.

“You’re hungry,” she says. “Just eat. As I said, depriving yourself of food is not going to get you out of this room.”

“What will?”

“You’d have to discuss that with Aleksandr.”

“I’m trying,” I snap. “But how can I if he won’t see me?” I set the untouched cookie back on the plate and lean towards her imploringly. “Please, please, just talk to him. Tell him I need to speak to him. He owes me that much.”

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