Page 86 of Merciless Desires

Is it because she knows she’ll end up back in the trunk, or have I fucked the fight out of her?

The drive passes in silence. I focus on the road ahead.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m acting irrationally, impulsively following dangerous fantasies born of exhaustion and too much vodka.

There is no happy ending here. Yet I pursue it anyway.

My hands tighten on the wheel as I pull up to the wrought iron gates of my estate.

As we travel up the long drive lined with manicured hedges and stately oak trees, I sneak a glance at my captive. She takes in the sprawling mansion with a mix of interest and confusion.

I park in front of the marble steps and exit the vehicle.

When I swing open her door, she’s as still as a statue, making no attempt to get out. I reach out and brush a golden strand of hair from her cheek and she finally reacts, jerking in surprise, but does not pull away.

“Where are we,” she whispers.

An unfamiliar ache swells in my chest. “My home.”

I see the disbelief in her eyes, the fear that this is just the prelude to fresh torments. Deliberately, I snip the binds from her slender wrists, massaging feeling back into the abraded skin. Then I open the door and lift her carefully out, cradling her against my chest for the briefest moment before setting her on her feet.

The fight seems to have drained from her completely and she sways unsteadily. I retain a supportive grip under her elbow as I guide her toward the house.

We climb the steps and the ornate front door swings open.

Marta, who heads my housekeeping staff, startles slightly at the sight of my disheveled companion but masks it swiftly and discreetly averts her gaze.

“Welcome home, Mr. Ivanov,” she murmurs in her musical Spanish accent.

Nodding to Marta, I guide Natalia into the grand foyer of my estate. Her steps falter as she takes in the soaring ceilings, marble floors, and ornate furnishings. For a moment, I see a flicker of wonder in her eyes before it is replaced by wariness.

Her gaze darts around nervously, past priceless works of art and hand-carved mahogany furniture, no doubt looking for exits or assessing the layout. I suppress a grim smile. She will find no easy escape from this place.

“Please prepare the Jasmine Suite for my guest,” I tell Marta. “And tend to her needs.”

I turn to Natalia. “This is Marta. She will help you get settled.”

The housekeeper gives a gracious nod but Natalia only stares numbly ahead.

“Natalia has had a difficult journey,” I say softly. Marta's knowing eyes flit to Natalia’s tired face and she gives an almost imperceptible nod. I add, "Please provide her with suitable clothing and toiletries. And she is to have full access to the library and entertainment room."

Marta nods. "Of course, sir."

I turn back to Natalia. "If you need anything, tell Marta."

Natalia studies me for a long moment, confusion mingling with distrust in her lovely eyes. I fight the urge to stroke her cheek.

Marta approaches cautiously and touches Natalia's arm. “Come, child. Let’s get you comfortable.”

After only a slight hesitation, Natalia allows herself to be led away. But at the foot of the grand staircase, she pauses and turns back, questions swirling in her eyes.

I offer nothing but a stony look.

I watch until she disappears from view, then I make my way to my study, pour myself a shot of vodka, and sink into the leather desk chair.

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.

CHAPTER 7

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