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EIGHTEEN
KATARINA
I have no idea how many days have passed in this windowless hellhole. I haven’t spoken to a soul for days. The only thing that keeps me from completely succumbing to depression is the idea that eventually, things will look up.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Nikolai won’t break me.
Even though at times I feel hopeless, I soon pick myself back up, listing things I can be grateful for.
I’m alive.
I eat three meals a day.
I have regular access to a bathroom and warm water, and sleep in a comfortable bed.
It doesn’t help that I can’t keep track of the days with no phone, watch, or computer in sight. In a confined space like this, it’s challenging to pass the waking hours. Each hour is similar to the next.
I haven’t slept this much since I was a toddler.
Over what I think has been five days, I’ve done all I could to keep my spirits up: meditation upon waking, pushups, squats, and lunges before breakfast, yoga and stretching a few hours after lunch, extra-long and hot showers, dressing up in expensive clothes, putting on makeup, brushing my hair.
Then more pushups: standard, wide, diamond, decline, incline.
Once I’m spent and there’s nothing else to do, I read the books Nikolai brought. Of course, once I got a taste, I devoured all of them.
If he doesn’t come soon, I’ll have to read them again.
If someone knew that I enjoyed reading about alphas and doms making the heroines fall head over heels in love, they wouldn’t believe their ears. I am addicted to reading about male domination. I even masturbated to many scenes from the books, reading them two or three times.
I’m not telling anyone, especially not Nikolai, that the thought of him towering over me sends tingling pleasure right between my thighs. My libido has been kicking my ass. By now, it’s impossible to avoid imagining how his firm body would feel pressed against my skin, the idea of him touching me sending shivers down my spine.
Instead of fantasizing about the handsome jerk, I should be plotting my revenge. There’s nothing that sets me straight better than fantasizing about getting back at him. And then it hits me. He told me that his plan is to make me fall for him.
Yeah, not gonna happen.
I’ve never relied on a man’s strength before, and I sure as hell won’t do it with this ass. With my anger spiking to an astronomical height, I jump off the bed and land on my feet, facing the door. I’m waiting and preparing for my last meal of the day to arrive. Or at least, I think it’s dinner time.
Maybe I should ask Olga to tell Nikolai that I’m ready to play nice. The only way for me to get out of here is through him. Besides, I could use some company. The last thing I want is to become a crazy woman who talks to herself.
Nikolai wants me to fall in love with him, but what if I turn the tables on him?
What if he falls in love with me first?
It’s a tempting thought, and for the briefest of moments, I start thinking seriously about it. But it can only work in theory because my future husband has made it very clear.
He doesn’t do love.
More to the point, he considers it a weakness.
Fortunately, I haven’t been known to back down from a challenge. Especially a challenge thrown by a full-of-himself boorish bully like him.
When the sound of the food trolley starts approaching, I jump into action. I return the books to where Nikolai left them. I don’t want Olga to tell him that I’ve been reading them.
The familiar beeping sound pierces the silence, followed by the opening of the door. Olga wordlessly pushes the trolley in.
After my little fight with Nikolai, she came in with a big barrel-chested man to clean up. Ever since then, I had to eat my meals either on the floor or on the bed. They haven’t trusted me even with one chair.
