Chapter 9 - Clara

"So, you're letting me go home?" I ask, filled with empty hope.

Alexei grinds his teeth together, the muscles along his jaw flex and unflex.

"I told you, I will never let that man near you again," he says, getting angry but holding it back, not letting his temper slip like it did last night. But I can see it in his eyes, the darkness.

"He's my uncle," I say, exasperated.

"He's a fucking savage."

"Stop pointing fingers at other people when you are dong worse things to me right now. Who the hell do you think you are? You took me against my will, forced me to sleep next to you, made me fear for my life to the point where I almost ran off a cliff in a pitch-dark forest. You are the monster, Alexei."

I watch as his face changes, dropping. Anger morphing into hurt. His eyes darken, but in a deeper way, as though he is closing off.

My words have really hurt him.

I have cut into his heart.

Now I am the monster. I am the one causing pain I never intended to cause.

I close my eyes and press my fingers against them.

Taking a deep breath, I try and fight the guilt I feel.

I am not that person. I am not cold-hearted or cruel, no matter the situation.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

His eyes narrow towards me.

"I'm sorry I said that. You aren't a monster, Alexei, I didn't mean to say that. I was just angry." I sigh softly.

He takes a step towards me, slow, unsure.

"But"—I shake my head and hold my hand up, warning him to keep his distance—"I won't forgive you for kidnapping me. Or keeping me a prisoner here. You aren't a monster, but that doesn't make any of this okay."

He nods, pulling his mouth tight. He doesn't take another step towards me.

"Like I said. You will no longer be handcuffed. You have free movement throughout the house."

Now, I am the one narrowing my eyes towards him. "No more handcuffs?" I ask, not believing him. Why would he risk that, knowing I am obviously going to try and escape again?

"Correct," he says. "You will find fresh clothes in the bedroom we slept in. I'll be around if you need anything."

I open my mouth to ask something, but he is already walking away.

I wait, tense, still not believing he is actually leaving me alone.

When I hear his footsteps fading all the way down the passage, I bolt out of this room and into the one where we slept. I search through the closet, finding a pair of jeans, a warm top, a jacket and some sneakers.

I get dressed. The entire time I am expecting him to come through the door with the handcuffs in his hand to tell me he's changed his mind.

Why would he risk this?

As soon as I am dressed I start looking for a way out.

Door to door. Window to window. I move from room to room trying everything.

After a while I don't even try and do it quietly because I am getting more and more frustrated. This house is Fort Knox. It's a high security prison, and I am the only prisoner. I kick the door as I walk past it, angry and humiliated.

So that is why he took the handcuffs off me. He knew I wasn't going to be able to go anywhere.

Finally, I have to give up. I'm angry and tired and now I am also an emotional wreck of confusion and exhaustion.

I drag myself into the living room and flop face down onto the sofa with a loud sigh.

"You okay?" Alexei asks, making me jump because I was so caught up in my own head, I didn't even see he was sitting there.

"No," I mumble, sitting up and running my fingers through my hair.

"You hungry?" he asks, casual and calm, as though I am not stuck in here against my will.

"No," I snap.

"Coffee?"

"Stop that," I shout. "Stop pretending like this is normal."

"I'll make us coffee." He smiles and puts the book he was reading down.

He stands up, and I am disbelief at his attitude. I stand up too and follow him through to the kitchen.

"So, you do want coffee?"

"I want to know what is going on in your head. Are we playing house here? Pretending to be friends?"

He chuckles and it grates against my last nerve.

"Was there enough sugar in the cup I made for you this morning?"

"Stop, Alexei. Oh, for crying out loud. I don't even want coffee. And if I do, I'll make my own."

I do want coffee, and the coffee he made this morning was divine, but there's not a fucking chance in hell I'm going to tell him that.

"No problem. So, I was thinking of making some tagliatelle for dinner, mushroom and bacon with cheese sauce. I am really good at it."

Oh my word, how am I supposed to handle this man?

I stare at him as he stares back down at me, his cool blue eyes filled with mischief and something else. Something suggestive.

No.

Stop that.

That's just my imagination running off again.

But now I am staring at his lips, that gorgeous smile. The light shadow of stubble across his jaw. Why the hell does he have to be so damned good-looking? And why the hell do I have to be trapped in this house with the sexiest man alive?

Alexei steps towards me, close, close enough for me to smell his scent and feel his heat. He grins at me. I look up at him, half expecting him to try and kiss me, almost wanting him to—but then with a flush of embarrassment I realize I am standing in front of the fridge, and he just wants to get the milk.

I duck away from him to hide my glowing cheeks.

I hear his laughter, a low rumble.

He makes me a coffee anyway, even though I said no.

And once I catch the scent of the warm, rich coffee I can't even pretend I didn't want it.

Reluctantly, I follow him back to the living room and sit on the sofa sipping it, watching him, wondering what his plan is for me.

My uncle doesn't even know where I am. He has no idea why I've been taken, either. Unless I am wrong about that and there is already a whole thing happening in the background. Maybe Alexei was just tasked with keeping me secured. Maybe his brothers are the ones negotiating.

I sigh loudly.

"Try and relax, little fox."

"For how long? For what? What is happening? When do you demand ransom?"

"Ransom?" He laughs loudly as though I've said something hilarious.

I wait, but he doesn't explain why it's funny. He just looks back down at his book and carries on reading.

I can't take it anymore.

I've spent most of the day trying to get away, and then more of the day just being frustrated about how good looking he is, and now all I want to do is get away from him so I can pull my thoughts together.

I stand up and march out of the room, needing some time alone.

He doesn't come to find me until it starts getting dark outside, which oddly hurts my feelings because I don't like to be alone that much.

"Come on, you are going to help me make dinner."

"I can't cook," I say in horror, knowing that last time I tried to roast a chicken the housekeeper had to run and get the fire extinguisher. Things did not go well.

"I'll teach you. It's an easy dish to make. Come on."

I sit up in bed, where I've been lying sulking for too long. I am bored out of my mind. I don't want him to think I'm not still angry with him, but at least cooking gives me something to do.

I swing my legs off the bed and pull a face at him. I know it's childish and I don't care. He grins, and to my absolute horror I smile back at him, but I quickly brush it off my face and give myself a silent lecture.

I cannot be falling for that gorgeous smile.

I walk behind him towards the kitchen and watch the way his back muscles flex beneath his black sweater. And the way his ass moves with each step he takes. Dammit. He is so sexy. He's tall and muscular and masculine and I just want—

Fuck.

I just want to go home, dammit. Clara, you are a total idiot.

We walk into the kitchen and Alexei hands me a pink and blue apron. I stare at it in disbelief. "I'm not wearing this."

He pulls his own blue apron over his head and ties it at the back, and I look him up and down wondering what he would look like in nothing but that apron while he cooked dinner for me.

He watches me watching him as he rolls his sleeves up over his thick forearms.

"Why not?"

"Because—just because. Why do you even have a pink apron?"

"For you." He smirks, and for some reason it sounds like he is telling the truth. Like he specifically choose to buy a pink apron and keep it in his kitchen just for me.

I shake my head. That's impossible.

Sighing, I pull the strap over my head and then Alexei moves behind me to tie the cord. I want to step away and tell him I'll do it, but I keep my mouth shut, enjoying the proximity despite knowing all too well it's wrong of me.

He reaches around my body and wraps the cord around my waist twice because it's too long, and I stand there, forcing myself not to notice how he feels when he brushes against me.

When he is done, I all but manage to hide a sigh of relief. I have to stop doing this. I have to stay focused.

He is pulling ingredients out of the cupboards and laying them across the counter.

"Here, you are going to make our cheese sauce."

"Are you really sure you want me to help with this? It might be a complete disaster."

"Little fox, you haven't figured it out yet? You don't know that I love disasters?"

Fuck's sake, those eyes are too gorgeous.

I giggle.

Then immediately shut my mouth.

"Alright. Well, don't say I didn't warn you," I say, sounding disinterested in everything even though my heart is beating a million miles an hour.

Working with Alexei in the kitchen is both fun and terrible.

It's like torture because I really am angry with him, and I don't miss any opportunity to throw a comment in there to let him know I'm still fuming, but at the same time, I am having so much fun just making a mess and cooking good food.

And somehow, only heaven knows, the cheese sauce comes out tasting incredible.

I can't believe I actually made that—with his help, but I mean, nothing caught on fire or exploded.

When I carry the bowl of pasta through to the dining room, I see that Alexei has set our places, seated right next to each other.

What game is he playing at?

I am about to slide my place setting to the opposite side of the table when he throws me a warning look.

"Don't you dare," he growls, and I freeze, suddenly unsure of myself. "We made this together, and you will sit with me and eat it next to me."

I obediently sit down even though it annoys me.

His thigh is pressed against mine beneath the table, and the tension between us is getting worse by the second.

At least the food is incredible.

I tuck in and stay quiet, forcing myself to ignore the heat where our bodies are touching.

Alexei chuckles at me then reaches out and runs his thumb across my cheek, wiping sauce away. He dips his thumb into his mouth to lick it clean and I watch his lips.

Then I turn away and rub at my cheek with my sleeve, annoyed again.

How am I going to survive being trapped here with him when I am furious at him but also can't stop perving?

***

Over the next few days I begin to see just how difficult it is to live with Alexei Dubrov.

We are going at each other nonstop, both cheeky, feisty and challenging. We're definitely getting on each other's nerves, but then every time we come close to each other it's as though the air between us is electrically charged. My skin feels tingly, and my blood seems to pump faster, pulsing through me; everything is suddenly unpredictable. I don't even trust myself.

I can't tell anymore if I would even try and stop him if he kissed me—or if he tried something else.

I want him to kiss me, and I would want to slap him if he did.

I am so confused and every day that goes by is making it worse.

I need to get out of here.