Amelia

When I moved, the pain in my head and ribs immediately made me open my eye. I touched my swollen cheek, and the eye that was shut felt like it had some kind of oily ointment on it. I froze when I saw the scary man from the sports car asleep. He was propped up on an armchair, but he wasn't wearing his suit. I shivered when I thought of his big black hellhound. Nervously, I looked around for the beast and licked my dry lips but winced at the pain in my lip.

I glanced at the man, relieved to see that he was still asleep. He looked like a reputable businessman, but wearing a hoody and sweats, I couldn't decide if he looked more dangerous or less. He had tattoos on his neck. I tried to squint my eye to focus on them but couldn't make them out. His dark hair was shaved close at the sides, and the top was combed to one side like a quiff. His beard was more like a dark stubble. He looked younger than my stepfather.

I lay my head back on the pillow as I remembered the attack. It wasn't enough to make my life a living hell anymore. They had escalated into trying to rape me. I felt the nausea build up in the pit of my stomach. Something inside me had snapped, and I had fought back like the devil, but with two against one, it had been an utter disaster. A tear ran down the side of my face. It was quickly followed by a flow of them.

"You're awake."

My eye snapped towards the man's deep voice. My heart almost stopped when I looked into his deep mahogany eyes. My gut screamed that there was something dangerous about this man. He had terrified me when he discovered me hiding under his black coat. The fury in him was excessive and reminded me of the scumbags I'd lived with. I wiped my tears away and hoped I didn't have another fight ahead of me.

"My name is Ivan. You're safe in my home. No one can get in or out of my home," he said, sitting straight in his chair.

If that was supposed to make me feel safe, it didn't .

"What's your name?"

I tried to sit up, but my aching body protested.

"Don't move. Your ribs are badly bruised."

I realised I wasn't wearing my jeans or my T-shirt. Glancing down, I saw I was wearing a baggy white T-shirt.

"Who changed my clothes?" I croaked out.

"The doctor needed to examine you, but I changed your clothes."

I looked away from him, feeling flustered that he saw me naked.

"What's your name, kotenok ?"

I began fiddling with the covers beneath my fingers, taking the material and rubbing it between my fingers. Great, I'd reverted to my childhood stress aid in front of a stranger, but he made me nervous. I'd heard him speaking on and off in a different language on the phone call in the car, but I couldn't place his accent or language.

"," I finally whispered.

", that's a beautiful name, Kitten," he murmured, and I wondered if that's what kotenok meant.

I kept my head down, but my heart pounded at his words because my face was a mess, and I certainly didn't feel pretty, let alone beautiful.

"What's your surname?"

I glanced up to see he was leaning forward in the chair. There was no way I was going to give him my full name. Paul and William were dealers, and they knew too many people in and around London. If word got out about my location, they would find me. The psychotic bastards.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I slowly shook my head as I looked down again and wondered if he had slept on the chair all night. I didn't want to think about what I had left behind.

"Hmm. How about some breakfast? I've left you a toothbrush in the bathroom. Do you need any help in the bathroom?"

I shook my head again. I heard him stand up, but I didn't move until I heard the door close behind him. I sneaked a peak at the door before I pulled the covers off me and looked around until I saw the door on the far side of the room.

The room was huge, with high walls and ornate cornicing on the ceiling. I shouldn't have been surprised by the grand room. When he unlocked the door of the car I was hiding behind, I hadn't checked what kind of car it was because William had been close behind me. When he turned his back towards the other men, I'd snuck into the back seat. Ivan had moved away from the car, so I'd shut the door without alerting them. William had chased me through the streets relentlessly. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

His shorts slipped down my ass, and I rolled the waistband up a few times, trying to secure them. There were bandages on my feet, making my walk less painful. The bathroom was as luxurious as the bedroom. I cringed when I saw the state of my face. I touched the dark purple bruising around my eye. It looked like I'd been in a boxing ring. I pulled my eye open and saw it was bloodshot.

Fucking Paul had sucker punched me. My fingers ran over the bandage on my head. I'd hit the table on the way down, and then Will went to town on my ribs while I was down. I began to breathe in and out heavily, trying to stop the feeling of panic. The music that Ivan had played in his car lulled me into an exhausted slumber. It had helped until I woke up and saw him. I'd held my vomit in, not wanting to mess his posh car up.

My hand shook when I reached for the toothbrush. I needed to plan my escape from those evil controlling bastards. No matter how many times I'd begged my Mum to leave him, she never did. It was too late for her, and I wasn't about to become their next punching bag.

I carefully returned to the bedroom, holding myself upright so I didn't jolt my ribs. My stomach churned as I wondered if I could hide out here for a few days until I felt strong enough to leave. Ivan wasn't the raving lunatic he'd been yesterday, so hopefully, it was a viable option. At least he had left my underwear on. I slowly climbed back onto the massive bed. My body felt drained of energy as I lay down.

When the door opened, I saw him there with his hellhound. I raised the covers over my head before lowering them down to peer at the large dog.

"Don't worry about Misha. He is harmless, and you caught us both off guard last night," Ivan said with a small smile.

The smile softened the hard edges of his face.

"That's easy for you to say. He wouldn't be able to eat all of you," I said, glancing at Misha again.

Ivan chuckled, and the hound walked beside his master as they came closer. The dog suited him. They both stood tall, proud and dangerous. Misha, with his build and colouring, looked like a Doberman. He looked at Ivan adoringly.

Ivan put the tray of food on the bed and sat down in his chair. Misha was looking at me or my food. It was probably the same thing for him. He trotted towards Ivan and rested his head on his thigh. I swallowed as I stared at Ivan's crotch.

"You're not eating?" I asked, feeling guilty as I dragged my eyes towards the tray.

"I'd rather you ate first. You need to regain your health."

"I will try and be out of your hair soon."

"‘In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity'—that is a quote from The Art of War by Sun Tzu," he said softly, stroking Misha's head. "I'm not letting you go, . Eventually, you're going to tell me who hurt you, and I will ensure he will never harm you again."

I gaped at him in surprise, but he continued to stroke his dog like Dr Evil.

"W-what do you mean you're not letting me go?" I asked aghast.

My first thought was of how Paul had weaselled his way into our lives. I looked at the delicious food that had looked so appealing seconds ago, but I began to feel nauseous again.

"You heard me speaking to my grandparents in the car?" he asked.

I nodded and reached for the bottle of water since my mouth felt dry.

"They met in high school when my grandmother was twelve and my father was fourteen. They married three years later after they grew close."

I glanced up at him in shock.

Who got married at fifteen?

He was smiling at me as if it was normal.

"Back then, there was no age of consent in Russia, but they have been married for almost sixty years. My parents have been married for thirty-seven years."

Paul had never married my Mum. It was easier to keep her at home and treat her like a side piece.

"My grandparents never stop recounting how they met and how they fell for one another at the time. My parents are the same. I'm thirty-six, and I've dated many women waiting to feel an inkling of what they had recounted until you, ," he said softly. "It will take several weeks for your ribs to heal, but I'm being upfront with you because I do not play games."

I felt mangled from the inside and out. My brain couldn't comprehend why he wanted me. With a shaky hand, I took a sip of my water.

"We do not hurt our women, . We protect them," he murmured.

I gave him an awkward nod but didn't say anything.

I had no reason to believe or trust him, but my body relaxed on the pillows and headboard. I lifted my cutlery up and thought of Paul and Will. The only thing that the duo understood was destruction. Everything about them was wrong. Will enjoyed sitting on top of me and punching me while Paul tried to pull my jeans off. My strung-out mother had come in and accused me of being a whore instead of helping me.

How would this man ever understand what I had come from?

Ivan didn't know me, and he certainly wouldn't want me after he found out about my family. A pang of sadness washed over me at the loss of something I'd not experienced since childhood—hope. I was glad my face was downward, or he would have seen the lone tear that managed to escape.

When I only nibbled at my food, Ivan excused himself and left the room with Misha. I glanced at the door as it closed before I sighed with my shoulders drooping in defeat.

Fairytales were for books, and I was a realist .

∞∞∞

After eating what I could. An older lady came in to pick up the tray. She wore a simple black dress but had a soft, empathetic smile on her face. I couldn't help but feel ashamed of how I must look to everyone. A battered, weak-ass woman.

"You gave us all a scare last night. How are you feeling, dear?" she said with a heavy Russian accent.

"I'm fine," I said, twisting the covers between my fingers.

"My name is Lena. Ivan said your name is ."

I glanced up at her, wanting to ask her questions about the enigmatic Ivan Maslow. Lena sat down on the bed.

"Ivan said you are staying with us. I'm Ivan's housekeeper, and if you need anything, please let me know."

"Thank you, Lena. I appreciate that," I said, looking at her.

"If you ever want to talk about anything, let me know," she said, patting my hand.

She looked like a petite grandma. Her white hair was pulled back, but it didn't make her look severe. Her face was too soft, and she had a relaxed, content demeanour. My mum was much younger than Lena, but her face was ravaged by drink and drugs.

"I believe Ivan is going to get you everything you need today. Can I bring you anything to read?"

"Yes, please," I said, returning her smile only to grimace at the pain from the cut in my lip.

"You rest up. The books will be with you shortly, and I will send lunch up later."

I smiled in gratitude as I was glad to have something to do while I lay here banged up.

She picked the tray up and turned towards the door.

"Lena?"

She paused and glanced at me.

"Is Ivan a good man?"

"I've known his family for over twenty years, and they have never harmed any woman. They took me on after my husband died, and I had three children at the time," she said, fully turning towards me. "Their family looked out for us all until my children had finished their education. I owe them a great debt of gratitude. Ivan Maslow is a good man, dear."

I nodded, feeling overwhelmed because perhaps if someone had helped my Mum, we wouldn't have ended up as we did.