Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
He opens the door to his room and yanks me over the threshold. “My bedrooms,” he says. “Where you will spend the majority of your time.”
Bedrooms? As in, plural? I observe every detail but at first, I only see one room with a massive bed. I blink. There are, indeed, two rooms, though the second is darkened.
“You will spend the night in the second room,” he says. “Go, now.”
For some reason, foreboding pools in my belly. Why is there a second bedroom? Will I actually have privacy from him? I try to mentally prepare myself for what I see when I pass the doorway, but I can’t, and it hits me so hard, a cold shiver of dread trickles down my spine.
Unlike the opulent rooms that lead to this one, this is sparsely furnished. A large bed with just a sheet and one plain white comforter. A leather chair. No windows or closets. It’s as perfectly clean as the last room, but this room has the air of a prison. There’s a side table with drawers and literally nothing else, though an open door leads to a bathroom. In the corner of the room is a cage with gleaming metal bars, but large enough for… for someone about my size. My stomach clenches.
And then it hits me what this room looks like. It’s barely more than a prison cell with a bed.
I’m his prisoner and this is my cell.
I can’t get out or contact anyone. We’re alone so that no one would hear a sound I made, and they all obey his command anyway, so what good would it do to scream?
And I don’t want to escape, not really. I don’t want to subject Calina to any potential danger.
The people caring for her have been instructed to cut and dye her hair, so she doesn’t look like my identical twin anymore. I’m glad a part of me wanted to hold onto what connected us, and I haven’t altered my own appearance much. Now it’ll be crucial to keep her safe.
But I’m not sure if complete compliance is the way for me to handle this, either. I’m going over my options, standing in the middle of the sparse room when he comes in to see me. “This is where you’ll stay unless I give you the privilege of sleeping in my bed.”
The privilege. How nice.
“Clothes off,” he snaps. I turn to look at him in surprise. I blink, watching him grab the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head. He stands in front of me in his socked feet, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. I can’t help but notice how strong and fit he is, like an athlete. A boxer, maybe. He looks like he could step foot into a ring, with the stance and body of a fighter. Broad, muscled shoulders and neck, his arms and torso covered in the black tattoos Calina mentioned. A light smattering of hair covers his muscled chest, giving way to a trim midsection and defined abs.
I look at his tats. A skull on one shoulder, a provocative, naked woman sitting with her legs spread apart and breasts pushed forward on another. Two spiders creep along his neck, and on the upper part of his back, a rose with a dagger. These mean something, but I have no idea what. I have some vague idea that the tattoos symbolize something with the Bratva.
I want to ask him, but I’m not sure—
And then it hits me. Calina was in a mental institution. For now… I’m Calina.
He thinks I’m mentally ill in some capacity, and why not use that to my advantage?
I can’t overpower him, for he’s twice my size and far stronger. I may be little and lithe, which would come in handy in a chase, but there’s nowhere to run or hide. I can’t escape him, even if I wanted to.
Perhaps setting him off kilter is my only power play. If he suspects I’m unpredictable and crazed, I could hold a little control in this.
It’s worth a shot.
I muster up a coy smile and bite my lip. “Oooh,” I say, toeing the ground as if I’m bashful. “What do the tattoos mean?” I blink my eyes rapidly, hoping I look somewhere between interested and slightly deranged. If he thinks I’m unpredictable, it could give me some power here.
A muscle tenses in his jaw.
“Your tattoos. It makes you look so badass,” I drawl, my stomach tumbling with the effort to play this part. “Can you tell me about them?”
But he ignores my question entirely.
“There’s a laundry basket in the corner of your bathroom. Cleaners come daily to gather laundry and clean the rooms. You’ll be allowed to dress when we leave these rooms, and we’ll do that often, since you’re to be my public mistress.”