Chapter 6

Lydia

CHAPTER SIX

Even my dreams are sluggish and confused. I wake a few times in the night, and every time I do, the fog lifts just a tiny bit more.

At first, I become aware of the fact that I’m in bed. Not just any bed, and definitely not a hotel because this bed is absolutely enormous, almost absurdly so. If a cruise ship were a bed, I’m sleeping on it. It feels like a vast expanse of luxury, with soft, plush pillows and a comforter that seems to envelop me in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The mattress is so wide and spacious that it could easily fit five people with room to spare. I can barely see the edges of the bed, the sheer size making me feel like I’m in a luxurious sanctuary, designed to offer ultimate comfort and security.

Another time I wake, I’m aware of the sheets, like the finest silk against my skin. My head is on a satin pillowcase.

What kind of captor do I have who puts me in a bed that would rival a luxury hotel?

At first, I think I’m alone but quickly realize I’m not. When I stir, the huge guy who kidnapped and drugged me looms beside me, sitting in a chair next to a desk. “Are you alright?” he asks.

I open my mouth to speak, but my tongue feels too big for my mouth, and I can’t form words. Still, he rises, his large form blocking out any light from behind him as he makes his way over to me.

I flinch back from him as he presses something to my lips and I turn my head away. I don’t trust him.

“Drink,” he orders. “It’s water.”

I shake my head and press my head to the pillow. I’m vaguely aware of him cursing as I close my eyes and go back to sleep.

When I finally wake, I open my eyes. My vision’s a bit fuzzy, and my head is pounding. It hurts just to open my eyes and try to turn my head. Where am I? Am I safe?

Other than my head, I seem okay.

The events of the night before come in a rush, and I stifle a sob.

Timur.

I was taken from my fiancé. Kidnapped. They’re going to kill him.

What are they planning on doing with me?

I sit up with a start in bed and note that even though I’m covered with a blanket, I’m only dressed in my bra and panties.

“Shhh,” someone says nearby. I blink into serious dark-brown eyes. I recognize him immediately as the man who attacked last night and choke back a scream. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently, shaking his head. “I promise.”

Why would someone take me, attack me, and then promise not to hurt me?

Why is he so familiar? I wish I could piece everything together. I open my eyes and blink, trying to clear my blurred vision.

“Who are you?” I ask through thick lips, my words slurred.

He takes a bottle of water from the bedside table and twists the top off. “My name is Viktor Romanov.” His voice is deep and gravelly, tinged with the faintest touch of a Russian accent.

Viktor Romanov.

Romanov… Vera married Nikko Romanov. I vaguely remember something last night about my sister, but my thoughts are muddied.

Still, I don’t care. I’ve had no confirmation yet from anyone I trust, and so far, these men have done nothing to convince me to believe them.

I turn away from the water and shake my head. I won’t take anything from a man who kidnapped me.

“Drink,” he orders. “If you don’t drink the water this time, I will be forced to call a doctor to come and give you an IV. You are dehydrated.” He speaks with that slight Russian accent, slowly and with patience, almost as if he’s talking to a child. His eyes, cold and calculating, watch me intently as if he’s waiting to be obeyed.

I gasp and pull the covers up, a scream trapped in my throat when I realize we’re not alone. The largest dog I’ve ever seen is curled up in the bed a few feet away from me. When she lifts her eyes to look at me, she seems intelligent but powerful, muscle rippling beneath a glossy black coat of fur. She lies on the other side of the fully made bed.

Phew. No one else joined me in this bed last night. A crazy thought, but it’s been a crazy series of events.

“Relax,” he says. “This is just Nikita. She’s here because she wanted to protect you.”

He snaps his fingers, and the dark form of his dog, huge and muscular… not unlike him… obediently jumps off the bed and walks over to him.

“Go,” he says, snapping his fingers again and opening the door. The dog walks out submissively. He closes the door and turns back to me. “Now drink, Lydia.”

I hesitate, my gaze shifting from the bottle of water to his unwavering stare. There’s no kindness in his expression, only a stern resolve that makes it clear he’s not making an idle threat. My throat is dry, and I know I need the water, but the thought of doing what he says grates against my pride. And how am I supposed to know it isn’t drugged to keep me in a state of compliance?

“No. I can’t trust you,” I whisper. “I don’t know who you are.”

“It’s water.”

I clamp my lips together. I expect him to lose his temper, but he doesn’t.

“I will tell you who I am, though I’ll be surprised if you believe me at first. But first, water, or I call the doctor.”

I stare at the bottle. I feel like I’m dying of thirst. So finally, with a sigh of resignation, I reach for the bottle, my hand trembling slightly.

“Fine,” I say with a frown because I’ve just realized my wrists are bound. I have a vague notion he wasn’t happy when I was drugged, but he could’ve taken these restraints off. He wants me tied.

I take the smallest sip of water. It hits my parched lips and tastes so good, so I keep gulping. His eyes flicker with a hint of satisfaction as I lift the bottle to my lips. The water is cool and soothing as it slides down my throat, but the victory is his, not mine.

I set the bottle down and meet his gaze, defiance burning in my eyes. “There,” I say, my voice hoarse but steady. “Happy now?”

“There,” he says, his voice warm with approval. “What a very good girl.”He reaches a hand to me and then pulls it back as if stung.

I wonder what makes him scowl like that.

My heart does a somersault in my chest.

I blame the drugs.

His phone rings. Looking down at the screen, he presses a button, and it stops. I watch him slide it into his pocket.

“What happened?” My voice is hard. Reserved. I don’t trust him, and it scares me that I don’t know where I am or why I’m here.

I look to the bedroom door and see it’s locked. I hate that my mind is muddied and hate that I’m not fully in control of myself. “You took me.”

I wish my accusation didn’t have that touch of petulance in it. I want to stay strong, but I’m depleted and hungry, and my head hurts so badly I cradle it in my hands.

The big guy—Viktor, he said his name is—bends down and brushes the hair off my forehead, but he touches me with utter tenderness as if I move too quickly, the moment will be lost.

My pulse rachets higher, but my guard snaps into place. I know I can’t trust someone who’s gentle and careful. If you let your guard down… if you let yourself become vulnerable at all… that’s when they swoop in to take advantage of you.

And he may be the most dangerous man I’ve ever met.

“What did you do to Timur?”

The man’s eyes darken, storm clouds brewing.

“Not what I wanted to do, that’s for damn sure.”

A chill skates down my spine when I realize he’s dead serious. He came for me and Timur. He captured me and Timur… a lump rises in my throat.

“Why?” I whisper.

His jaw clenches as he leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees. Last night, he wore a black leather jacket, but here, in the confines of this room, he’s wearing nothing but a plain white undershirt that stretches across the expanse of his chest and bulges of his biceps. It makes him look only slightly more human, tattoos snaking around his arms and neck only adding to the look. “It’s complicated.”

I take another gulp of water, my strength returning. I sit up and stare at him. “I’m not going anywhere. I got a call from my sister saying I was in danger. My fiancé started acting strange, and then the next thing I know, we’re attacked by you. You beat the shit out of him, and he disappears.” I shake my head, my hair falling onto my shoulders. I straighten them, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “I have all day.”

He holds my gaze, an almost thoughtful expression on his face. “Timur was planning on hurting you.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You’re going to have to start with a different angle than that. He is my fiancé.”

I shift uncomfortably in the bed and realize I need to use the bathroom. I don’t know if I trust myself to walk as I can barely see straight, and my legs might not cooperate. I want to get to the bottom of this, so I ignore the call of nature.

“In the back of his car, he had a duffel bag, rope, duct tape, and gloves.”

I shake my head, not wanting to believe him. “It makes no sense that he’d try to hurt me. We are getting married.”

“Were,” he corrects. I blink hard, my eyes watering. I feel like everything in my world is spinning wildly out of control. I take in a deep breath and gather my wits about me.

“My family and yours have made other plans,” he continues in his deep rumble of a voice colored with a Russian accent. “It is not in your best interest to marry into Ledyanoye Bratstvo. Your father made that choice when he thought it would benefit the Ivanovs, but it’s clear that it was a poor decision that didn’t take into account who you are and what is in your best interest.”

I shake my head. “As if you know a thing about me.”

Though his jaw tightens, he doesn’t contradict me. Outside the window behind him, clouds shift, covering the sun. I half expect to see fog-swept moors behind him.

Where are we?

I hear voices in the hallway, but they grow quieter. He continues as if I said nothing at all.

“When your sister married Nikko, his primary job was to work with the Ivanovs to secure the alliance. The best way to continue doing so is for you to marry into the Romanov family.”

I stare at him, my mouth agape. Am I still dreaming? Or is this some type of hallucination brought on by the drugs?

“What are you talking about?” I clench the bottle in my hand, and it spills over the side, splashing onto the bed.

“Stay calm, Lydia.”

I hate when people tell me to stay calm. It’s like trying to tell a sobbing child to stop crying. You can’t just put a stopper on human emotions with a command.

“Stay calm? You ripped me away from my fiancé because it suits you, drugged me, and brought me here against my wishes. You’re trying to blame my fiancé for this when you were the one who attacked. I don’t know where I am or what you’re going to do to me, and I’m supposed to just nod and go along with this? I can’t possibly?—”

He stands to his full height, and I have to admit, it’s intimidating. The words falter on my lips as he unfolds himself, muscles bulging in places I didn’t even know you could have muscles. The room seems to shrink, and still, even now, he looks at me with tenderness and concern.

I swallow hard and lick my lips.

“I knew this would not be easy for you,” he says, his voice still placid. “But you’re mistaken. I took you away from Timur because he was going to hurt you. He’s an evil man, and there’s no need for you to take my word for that. I can prove it. I didn’t drug you—my brother did. And no, I don’t expect you to just nod and go along with it, though the sooner you do, the easier it will be for you.”

There’s a sharp knock at the door. “Who is it?” he snaps. Apparently, patience is only reserved for me.

“Aleks.”

“Come in.”

The tall man with the black hair and blue eyes from last night steps into the room frowning, holding a tablet in his hand. He wears the same clothes he wore last night, as if he hasn’t slept.

“I’m Aleksandr,” he says to me, then turns back to Viktor. “I haven’t been able to get Vera on the phone. Nikko is here, though. He says Vera is in a remote location doing field work and unable to get to her phone again until this evening.”

Viktor’s face registers mild surprise. “Is she alone?”

Aleks scoffs. “Of course not.” He turns to look at me. “Lydia, how are you?”

They’re surprisingly civil for captors, which is more than a little unnerving.

“Been better,” I say, clutching the blanket to my chest.

“I’m sorry things were so clumsy,” Aleks says. “And this is the first impression you get of our family.”

I don’t respond, staring at the two of them as if they don’t speak the same language I do. Frankly, they don’t.

“Who else has arrived?” Viktor asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Mikhail and Lev. Mikhail wants all of us downstairs for a meeting.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving her.”

“Aw,” I say under my breath. “I’m so touched.” Viktor glances over at me but doesn’t respond. There’s something in his eyes that makes me shiver and look away.

“Mikhail says he’ll put a guard outside the door—” Aleks begins when Viktor interrupts him with a growl.

“I’m her fucking guard.”