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I withdrew with a frown. She looked at me like she expected something different, but my answer came in a heartbeat. “If you try to defy me, Freya, I will kill you.”
Chapter 14 – Freya
One Month Later
Time spent without him had turned from hours to days, days to weeks, and weeks to a month.
I wasn’t counting; I didn’t even have a calendar to do the math, so I blamed Anna. She was always timely with her daily updates when she called up to my room, on the boss’s instruction, and I counted how many times she came up to say, “The boss asked me to do this,” or “The boss told me to do that.”
And I blamed Anatoly, too. He was more frequent in the house these days. The number of times I met him mounting guard in the living room, smoking on some weed or sniffing coke, he wore different colors or shades of the same shirt, with a jacket that somehow fit perfectly on every outfit. I counted those, too.
The house was quiet without its owner—veryquiet—and it strangely made me uncomfortable. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t miss his presence. I didn’t miss the sound of his voice or watching his tall frame silently pass through the hallway as he left for work—or possibly to kill someone else.
Neither the housekeeper nor bodyguard were ever interested enough to strike up meaningful conversations, and regardless of Egor’s permission to move about the house, the daily routine had become a bore.
Like today, the hours seemed longer. I’d done everything twice, from taking a shower and a run around the compound to getting busy in the kitchen and reading an old book from the small in-house library.
Now, I lay back on the bed with my hands clasped behind my head, reliving the moment from the last time I’d seen him.The pictures were vivid: me in his arms, me in his bed, his lips on mine, his face between my legs, and the length of him filling me up.
My cheeks heated at the memory, and a pulse throbbed between my legs.
In my opinion, I’d said a bunch of nonsense and stupidly lost control that night. I wanted to scream and pull my hair—I lost my V-card to a murderer and kidnapper.
Who would have ever thought?
Such a twist of fate.
It sounded like a storyline from a fictional novel, except this was no fiction. It was real life.Mylife. I’d lost my senses. Got lost in the euphoria of being in the arms of one of the most infuriating and gorgeous men I’d ever laid eyes on.
What was I thinking?
Or maybe that was the problem. Iwasn’tthinking at all. There was no way I had my thinking faculties straight while we did the deed. But nothing was enough to convince me that I’d made a mistake that night.
The more thoughts I had about it, the hotter my skin sizzled. He was like an illegal addiction, the very type people were warned to stay away from. Egor Yezhov was not good for me, and knowing that should have been enough to deter me.
But it wasn’t.
Nothing. Freaking. Is.
The image of his hard body pressed into me, his chest muscles flexing as he held me close, made me tingle with pleasure. Our heartbeats synchronized, and the feeling was like flying over the moon.
He'd gripped my chin and kissed me like I was the oxygen he needed to breathe. Pried my mouth with his tongue like he searched for a lost treasure and dropped his hands to my neck like he grasped onto something precious.
I’d never been kissed like that.Ever.
Growing up, at seventeen, I’d envisioned what my life would be like with my first boyfriend, who would turn out to be my forever sweetheart.
I’d imagined him to be blond like Malibu Ken—six feet tall, with a perfect smile and a good heart.
He was going to be my first kiss and my first time, and we would have a sweet, nice home with successful careers. We would have lived a good life with as much caution as possible because the world had evil men lurking.
Nowhere had I planned a script where I encountered one of those evil men in the most unpredictable way and gave myself to him with no reserve.
He'd kissed my palm, grazed my neck, and wound his fist in my hair as he claimed me. I hadn’t wanted him to let go. I hadn’t wanted him to stop, and with shivers, I’d told him exactly those words.
Lying there and fantasizing about a cold-blooded killer was crazy. This was wrong. Everything was, and the voice of guilt nagged at the back of my mind. I’d let myself go too far. It didn’t matter that a part of me longed to stay locked up in that unrealistic bubble with him, where great sex meant everything.
Reality knocked, and I had to wake up and smell the coffee. A life with him was bound to ruin me.
