Page 87 of Merciless Desires

Natalia

I crawl out of the massive four-poster bed and make my way to the ensuite bathroom. As I wait for the shower to heat up, I inspect my body. My ass is still pink and I have hickeys and bite marks all over from last night. I lightly trace my fingers over the tender spots, wincing.

Last night. It was barbaric. It was depraved. It was sadistic. How could I possibly have become so aroused by that kind of thing?

And why has he brought me here to his home? I’d think this was some sort of mind game, but I’m beginning to get a line on my captor. I saw worry and then determination etched on his features.

As long as I choose to keep you, you’re safe.

I suppose I’ll just have to see how this plays out, stay on my toes, and pivot if and when I need to.

The warm water soothes my sore muscles as I step into the spacious marble shower. I take my time, trying to clear my head. By the time I'm done, the bathroom is filled with steam.

After drying off, I wrap myself in a plush robe and return to the bedroom. A pretty sundress in a soft floral print has been laid out on the bed for me. I frown. I should be annoyed that Viktor seems to think he can dress me like some kind of doll, but I’m not. If I’m being honest, I like it.

The dress fits perfectly. I towel dry my hair and run a brush through it until it falls in soft waves around my shoulders. I can't help but glance in the mirror again before leaving the room. The sucker bites on my neck stand out starkly above the feminine neckline, and I expect he intentionally chose a dress that would allow them to show. I shift my hair to cover them. No need to broadcast what happened between us to the rest of Viktor's household staff, although they probably already know.

As if on cue, there's a light knock at the door. I open it cautiously to find Marta wearing a warm smile.

"Good morning dear, I'm so pleased to see you up and about. You must be famished, come down to the kitchen and I'll fix you up a nice breakfast."

My stomach growls at the mention of food. I realize I haven't eaten anything since lunch yesterday. I follow her eagerly down the grand staircase and through a maze of hallways until we reach the kitchen.

It's a huge, state-of-the-art space with gleaming steel appliances and white marble countertops. Marta busies herself whipping up crepes, fresh fruit, and strong coffee. I sit at the large island and dig in ravenously when she slides the plate in front of me.

Between mouthfuls, I chat with Marta. She's been working for Viktor for eleven years. She's very kind and motherly. Under different circumstances, I could see us being friends.

My mind wanders as I sip my second cup of coffee. Is Viktor already up and about somewhere in this huge house? What will he expect of me today? The thought of being alone with him again makes my pulse quicken.

As if reading my mind, Marta says gently, "Try not to worry too much, dear. Mr. Ivanov isn't as frightening as he seems once you get to know him.” Then, after she considers her words for a moment, she adds, “Oh, he can be a formidable enemy, don't get me wrong, but he can also be quite thoughtful and charming when he wants to be." She winks. “Don’t tell him I said so though.”

I want to ask her if he brings all his victims here. How many others has she had to tend to? But I just nod silently. We clearly have two different views of the man. She must see Dr. Jekyll. I've encountered Mr. Hyde.

After breakfast, Marta shows me around the main areas of the mansion: the home theater, gym, library, and various sitting rooms. My head spins trying to take it all in. I've never been inside such an extravagant home before. Clearly being a high-ranking member of the Bratva pays extremely well.

Marta chatters away as we walk, filling me in on the day-to-day operations of the large household staff and all the lavish parties Viktor hosts here. I stay alert, looking for any chances to get away or find a phone, but there are always other staff members hovering nearby, and a large burly guard is a few paces behind us at all times. Viktor must have put a bodyguard on me. Of course, he doesn't trust I won't attempt to escape should the chance present itself.

Eventually, we end up back at my bedroom. Marta tells me Viktor left instructions that I'm to remain here in the suite until he summons me later. With an encouraging pat on my shoulder, she bustles away to attend to her other duties.

I pace the room restlessly after she leaves. The opulent surroundings that seemed so out of place this morning now feel like just another form of captivity.

I settle on the sofa and aimlessly flip through the TV channels, but nothing holds my attention. My mind keeps wandering back to last night with Viktor. The way he dominated me so completely, yet seemed to know exactly how to touch me to draw out intense pleasure.

I'm not naive; I know men like him are often cruel sociopaths. But some rebellious part of me can't help fantasizing about the passion he has leashed inside him. What would it take to shatter that iron self-control? What would it feel like to experience that raw passion, uncontained and running wild?

A shiver runs through me and I force the thoughts away. I can't forget this man is a dangerous criminal who's holding me prisoner. Letting myself be seduced by him would only end in disaster.

When the shadows grow long across the plush carpet, boredom finally drives me to explore the bookshelves lining one wall. The selection seems random, everything from Russian classics to smutty romance novels. I settle on an Agatha Christie mystery and soon lose myself in the twists and turns of the fictional crime story, a welcome distraction.

Another knock at the door eventually interrupts my reading. Marta waits for me to open the door, even though it's unlocked. She's holding a garment bag draped over her arm and wearing a big smile on her face.

"Mr. Ivanov is expecting you for dinner." she says, then adds brightly, "I've brought you something lovely to wear."

She motions me over to the bed where she lays the garment bag before unzipping it to reveal a stunning shimmery red evening gown. She opens another box that holds matching shoes and jewelry. Did Viktor choose this outfit for me, or did Marta? The dress is Givenchy and the shoes are Louboutin. I've never seen an outfit this expensive before, much less worn one. I am speechless.

Marta finally takes pity on my stunned silence. "Come on, let's get you ready."

She fusses over me like a mother hen, helping me into the dress before seating me at the dressing table to do my makeup.

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