Chapter 8
When I wake, I can feel the food in my belly. It's like this thick glob sticking to the lining of my stomach. I can taste the stickiness on my tongue and feel it in my throat. I make an ew noise without even meaning to, then stand up and head for the door, meaning to hit the bathroom.
But my kidnapper is already waiting for me.
"Did you force-feed me during the night?" I snap.
His sad look makes me wish I could snatch the question back. There's judgment there, but not the bad kind. It's a soft sort of judgment, an almost loving kind. Oh, hell. What am I thinking?
"No," he replies.
"Oh," I mutter when it hits me. "Did I do anything else when I was sleepwalking?"
"Hmm," he replies.
"What?"
"I don't want to lie to you."
I let out the meanest, most mocking laugh I've ever aimed at anybody. Maybe that's the only way I can make this work—laugh, mock, and be a bully. Can I be that person?
"So you can kidnap me, but lying is off the table."
He shrugs. "You tried to … get physical with me."
I roll my eyes, but somehow, on a deep level, I know he's right. "Yeah, of course, I did," I say sarcastically.
"I'm happy to pretend it never happened," he grunts.
I push past him, heading for the bathroom. He steps into my path. I don't want him to read the hurt in my eyes. I shouldn't care if he wants me or not. Heck, I should forget about me wanting to be with him.
"Ania," he says.
"Can you move, please?"
He sighs. "Listen, I'm not here to be your therapist, but you're keeping that snack bar in you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do," he growls. "Like I said, no therapy, no judgment, but you need those calories."
"Just move."
I grab his shirt, meaning to push him out of the way. All that does is hammer home how muscular he is, how powerful. His chest seems to expand against my touch, heat burning my palm. He doesn't move a single inch. He stares down at me, his dark eyes haunted and almost hurt.
"Not today, Ania," he snarls. "Do yourself a favor."
I almost squeeze my hand down to feel his muscles pushing against me. I want to feel how powerful he is. When I touch him, it's weird. For a moment, I think maybe I can listen to his advice.
"You're reading into something that isn't there," I tell him, forcing myself to let him go. "You seriously need to chill."
He looks at me for a long time, then says, "Hmm," and steps aside.
I go into the bathroom, and I try. I really try not to. I always give it my best shot. With the faucet running and the water drowning out the noise, I do what's best for my future career. I make the sacrifice that has to be made.
Aiden eats a giant breakfast: sausage, bacon, eggs, waffles, and pancakes. He lays out a small plate for me but says nothing as I stare at it. The tension in the air is icy and taut, as though it's ready to snap.
I've had a shower and changed into some simple clothes Aiden bought for me: jeans and a hoodie. I pull the sleeves up, hugging my arms around myself. He glances up quickly as though seeing me like this makes him want to hold me. Or maybe I'm projecting, wishing, and dreaming things into reality that just aren't there.
"You'll be meeting your mom soon," he says after a pause. "Are you excited?"
"It still doesn't feel real," I admit. "So I guess I'm not letting myself get excited."
"You can now," he says with a small smile. "I know this hasn't been … usual, but because of your family, I had to take certain steps."
"My brothers aren't monsters."
"Your brothers are Bratva. They're criminals."
"And you're not?" I snap. "Kidnapping is a crime."
"They do it for money. I do it?—"
"Because you're a hero. Got it."
That gets another smirk out of him, but he quickly wipes it away. Something is intoxicating about making him smile when he doesn't want to.
"Does she talk about me a lot?" I ask after a pause. When he frowns, I say, "Tell the truth."
"Until your dad … did what he did, she didn't. Only recently."
"What does she say?"
"She wishes she was brave enough to go after you."
"What happened?" I ask. "Why didn't she?"
"It's rough, Ania."
"Am I a little girl?" I hiss. He looks at me as if to say yes, infuriating me. I don't want to be a little kid in his eyes. "Just tell me the facts. No crap. No coddling."
"Your mother was alone in the world with no one to turn to … and so she sold the only thing she had: herself," he says after a pause, sighing heavily. "Konstantin noticed her immediately, and you can imagine what happened. Once she realized what she had gotten herself into, she ran, but it was too late. After he found out she'd given birth to his child, he beat her, left her for dead, and took you. Molly was too terrified to do anything. She's been living with that terror for years."
The news hits me like a truck. I always knew there was more to the story—it's not like Dad was some great guy or anything—but this version of Konstantin Sokolov doesn't match with the version of himself he showed to me. He always treated me like his princess, except for occasional flashes of rage. Weirdly, I could always somehow look past that.
"Oh," I mutter, feeling deflated more than anything. "I guess that makes sense. It sort of jives with who he truly was."
I stare down at my small plate of food, but my belly is still twisting and aching from what I did in the bathroom. Usually, there's satisfaction with that tickling, a job-well-done sensation. I tell myself I'm making the right choices and doing what's best for my career. Now, I just feel … What do I feel?
"Ania," he says, his voice softer this time, almost loving.
No, no. That's just nuts. I'm happy to pretend it never happened. That's what he said about me trying to get intimate with him when I was sleepwalking. I've never done that before. Then again, I'm generally surrounded by my brothers and the Sokolov staff, not a tall, handsome man who makes me feel all sorts of confused.
"She sold herself," I say. "I wonder …"
Then, unexpectedly, I'm crying. I don't even know where it came from. It's like a gate of agony has just burst open inside of me. One moment, I feel normal. Or at least, I can trick myself into believing that. Then, all these emotions are rushing in.
I stand as the walls feel like they're closing in on me. Aiden stands, too. "Leave me alone," I snap, turning and heading for the bathroom.
I slam the door behind me, locking it, hating the reflection that stares at me from the mirror. The woman in the mirror looks small and terrified. She seems vulnerable. She looks like somebody who needs help, a knight in shining armor. That's not me.
"Ania. What are you doing in there?" Aiden says from the other side of the door, rattling the doorknob.
"This isn't about that!" I scream, almost pulling my hair out. "Stop making everything about that."
After some rattling and jiggling, the door slides open a crack. Aiden ducks his head through the doorway. Moving closer, he raises his hand like he might touch me, then closes it into a fist. It's like this is almost painful for him.
"The past is the past," he says.
"My dad told me she wanted nothing to do with me."
"I've never known Molly to lie," Aiden replies. "As for Konstantin Sokolov …"
"All he did was lie," I mutter. Aiden nods, and I go on, "When you said he beat her and left her for dead, what did he do exactly? I need to know." I need to know everything that he did to my mom—the person I always hated but longed for.
Aiden frowns. "You don't need to know the nasty details."
"Yes, yes, I do. Why not? You don't think I can take it?" I grit.
He tilts his head as if to say, Isn't the answer to that obvious?
"I deserve the details," I snap. "My dad made me resent this woman, my mom, and now you're telling me a bunch of vague bullshit. What happened exactly?"
Aiden shrugs, his eyes hard. From the way he stares and carries himself, I can tell he's seen a lot of bad things in his life. It's like a dark aura floating around him. "He attacked her in her apartment with a tire iron while you were sleeping in the next room. He broke her jaw in two places. He almost disconnected one of her eyes?—"
I was wrong. I was so wrong. I can't handle this. "Just. No. No more. Please."
"That's all ancient history. You're going to meet her. She's recovered from what happened, physically, at least."
"She knows I'm coming, right? She's excited to see me?"
Maybe I can let that flutter of hope inside grow into something larger. Perhaps I don't have to be a slave to the sadness and the indecision. Maybe this can be a good thing. It won't work long-term, obviously. I need to see my brothers again. They're probably going crazy trying to figure out how I suddenly disappeared off the estate.
Aiden smiles. "Of course she is. She can't wait."