18
AT LUNCH ON THURSDAY, Luka announced he’d leave my room unlocked. The doors to the bedrooms were to remain closed, and the computer in the office was password protected, but I could move about the first floor as I wished. Being from a family of criminals, the whole house was wired with a sophisticated security system. If I entered a room without permission, he’d get his text alert, and I’d go back to square one.
“Naked and chained to the bed,” I’d repeated, exasperated. “Yeah, I know.”
His ‘assignments’ had gotten progressively more challenging, but also thrilling, and I always completed them. I couldn’t shake my ingrained desire to please and succeed, and needed to ensure my class videos would keep coming.
Monday’s task hadn’t been too bad, at least not until Luka had returned and quizzed me on it. He’d wanted to know exactly what I’d thought about during my two sessions, and made me describe in detail my memory of the previous night on the table. He’d also had two fingers inside me, coaxing both the words and the suspended orgasm from me.
Tuesday had two assignments. He gave me back my razor and instructions to go completely bare below the waist. The second task was to wait naked for him in a specific position on the bed so he could inspect my work. I had to sit with my legs wide open and feet flat on the mattress, leaning back on my hands, so everything was clearly on display the way he thought I looked my best. He’d come home from work, carried in a glass of wine, and sat in the loveseat staring at me. Butterflies had fluttered in my stomach, but his heated, lustful stare made me feel powerful and desired, too.
It was also the most conversation we’d ever had, as he seemed to want to prolong our mutual anticipation. Or possibly just to make me uncomfortable. We talked about his job, mostly. When he’d gotten his undergraduate degree, he’d struggled to find work that wasn’t public accounting with low pay and long hours, and although he’d been concerned about pressure to help with all sides of the Markovic business, he’d accepted the legit job offer from the dealership. Plus, they’d offered to pay for grad school.
Luka glossed over the details, but I could read between the lines. His uncle’s personal accountant was now slowly bringing Luka into the fold regarding the criminal activities. As ridiculous as it sounded, I was worried for him. He’d worked so hard to be better than that, but his family was sinking him, dragging Luka down into their dirty world.
Wasn’t he doing the same to me?
Wednesday’s assignment had been to take video while I brought myself to orgasm. I’d been mortified to film it, but when I was done, I’d been surprised by how hot the video turned out. And it had stolen my breath as he’d watched it in front of me last night.
“What would you like me to do today?” I asked, my voice tight with nervous energy, when we’d finished our lunch. He hadn’t given me a dirty task to complete yet, which set me on high alert.
“No assignment. I’ll be home late.” His eyes clouded over. “I’ve got a dinner meeting with my uncle.”
I felt the chill all the way to my bones. “Oh.”
The silence was heavy with all the questions I wanted to ask, but didn’t.
“Dinner is in the fridge. Whitney puts the heating instructions on the label. Don’t try to burn the house down.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not.
He stared vacantly at the table, and I couldn’t help myself. “Luka . . . are you okay?”
His gaze connected with mine. It was anything but convincing. “I’m fine.”
“All right.” I swallowed thickly. “You can, I don’t know, talk about it if you want to.” The words were shocking, coming from me. I sucked at being a friend, and this was Luka. Why would I want to encourage any kind of relationship? I forced myself to sound light and carefree. “And really, who am I going to tell?”
His head tilted slightly, evaluating me like I was a suspect.
I shrugged. “Or don’t tell me. You do whatever you want.”
Because he made it clear each night where I stood when he locked me into the green striped bedroom alone. I was a toy for him to play with, and when playtime was over, he put me away. He’d fuck me, but not sleep with me, and that bothered me. After all that had happened, him refusing to share his bed was what made me angry.
I was clearly losing my mind.
“I need to get back to work,” he said, rising from the table.
I did the same, took a step toward the stairs, and stopped myself. If I had free rein over the main floor of the house, I didn’t need to return to my room. I was the timid animal released from captivity, unsure of how to adjust to the wild. “I guess I’ll hang out down here?”
“That’s fine.” He smoothed a hand down his tie, and his forehead creased like he was deep in thought. “Fuck, come here.”
I’d only made it one step to him before he had me wrapped in his arms and his mouth covered mine in a desperate kiss. What on earth was happening? His hands caressed my back and pressed me against his chest, and his lips were needy. He tasted of longing, and kissed me like a man on borrowed time.
Holy shit. The realization was like being shot in the chest. Luka was nervous, and this kiss was a potential goodbye. It also explained why he was giving me freedom to move about the house. If he didn’t return, eventually I could try an escape.
“Don’t go,” I whispered when the kiss was over.
I’d never heard him shocked before. “What?”
“The meeting. You’re worried.” Worried for his life.
He pulled in a long breath. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. If I don’t go, that . . . would not be fine, for either of us.” He cupped my face in a hand, and his thumb brushed softly, tracing my cheek. “I’ll be back later tonight.”
He kissed me once more, and then pulled himself away, leaving me adrift with emotions I didn’t want to have.
The rest of the day dragged more than normal. I watched the lectures Vanessa had recorded from the previous day, did my required reading, and then set about exploring the parts of the house that were available to me.
Pictures of Luka’s family were scarce. I lingered over the one in the office, wondering what had happened to his vibrant, healthy-looking mother. Would he open up about her death someday? I scowled. Every day that passed where I was locked in this house made my feelings for him hazy and unfocused. How the hell had my hate evaporated so quickly?
The sun set outside, and the absence of light exaggerated how empty and cold the house was. I knew there was someone here, though. Luka’s trust had grown considerably through the week, but not enough to leave me on my own. How long would I have if I tried to escape right now? How long would I have if I found Luka’s room and went inside?
I couldn’t bring myself to read any of the books he’d uploaded to the iPad. My eyes had glazed over at the covers and “A Submissive’s Handbook” mocked me. Without ever discussing it, I understood my role beneath Luka, and although I wanted to be the best at everything, I struggled with this.
I ate dinner alone at the kitchen table, not tasting the food Whitney had prepared. Lightning flashed, bathing the kitchen in bright white for a split second. Outside, thunder rolled and rattled the large window on the back of the house. The clouds gathered, blotting out the moon, and rain fell in torrents against the glass. The sound was deafening.
I waited at the kitchen table for a long while, until my eyelids grew heavy.
What if he didn’t come home?
Logic said I’d return to my life. This would be just a blip in my timeline, one week of madness, and then everything would be back on schedule.
Could I really do it, though? Return to my life like none of this had effected a monumental change in my core? I was naïve, but not stupid. Regardless of what happened, Luka’s imprint would be a lasting one.
When he hadn’t returned by ten o’clock, I shuffled upstairs, brushed my teeth, and prepared for bed, although I left the door to my bedroom open. I hoped he’d let me know when he came home, but the open door would help if he didn’t.
I curled up under the covers and watched the hallway. The winter storm outside raged on, battering the house.
π
“Addison.”
Luka’s deep voice startled me awake. I sat up, disoriented, and spied him in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light.
He’s back. I should have been afraid, not filled with relief.
“Hey,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Two thirty.”
I blinked against the light, adjusting. Luka wasn’t wearing his work clothes from earlier. He wore a pair of boxers that clung to his lean body, and his hair was messy, as if he’d been sleeping. He must have come home and I’d slept through it. But now he was awake in the middle of the night.
A bright flash lit up my bedroom, followed by an enormous crack of thunder. It was so strong, the room vibrated, and I flinched.
“Get up,” he demanded.
I hesitantly rolled out of bed and shivered when I left the warmth of my covers, tugging at the hem of the tank top I wore over a pair of pajama pants. I padded out to join him in the hallway, confused. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, and his hot skin against mine was scorching as he pulled me down the hallway, all the way to the door which was ajar at the opposite end.
My heartrate quickened. I’d figured out from the sounds in the morning that this was most likely his room.
The room was dark, so I didn’t get a good look until he snapped off the hallway light. There was another crack of lightning. Gray faux stone covered the accent wall, and jutting out from it was a large, low platform bed. The covers had been cast off to one side.
His warm hand cuffed my wrist and tugged me across the plush carpet to the bed. Rain beat against the window, punctuated by the deep grumble of thunder.
“When did you get home?” I whispered.
“Around midnight.”
“Did everything go okay?” Why did I care?
“Yeah.” He leaned over and pulled down the covers on the side of the bed that had been made, then glanced at me expectantly, waiting for me to climb in. I disliked the breathless feeling his actions gave me and shoved it down, turning to get in bed, only for him to stop me. “Wait.”
He undid the ribbon at the waistband of my pants, and his gaze pinned me in place while the soft fabric slid down my legs. The cool air gave goosebumps to the goosebumps already on my skin. The lighting flickered across his face, exacerbating the sexual, dangerous expression there.
I stepped forward out of the pants pooled at my feet, bringing us chest to chest, and I stared back at him. Beyond the window, there was electricity slashing the sky in jagged bands, but in the space between me and Luka, it crackled with intensity. His eyes flared with desire.
I swallowed a breath as he lifted me up in his arms, putting his hands on my ass. His command was dark and urgent. “Wrap your legs around me.”
His hip bones dug into the insides of my thighs as I locked my ankles behind his back, and my arms draped around his shoulders. Even though I wore only panties and a thin tank top, I wasn’t cold anymore. I couldn’t feel anything but his heat.
His lips branded me with kisses of fire. They seared across my mouth and throat, and abruptly we were moving. He took a knee on the bed and lowered me onto my back, letting my head sink into a soft pillow. His mouth erased all thoughts from my mind. He’d told me I was his, and when he kissed me, it was never truer.
His erection was growing between my legs and pressed into me, sliding cotton against cotton. It was a wicked, delicious tease of what I knew was to come. When his tongue surged into my mouth, I answered, showing him I wanted what he was going to give me, and my body told him how ready I was. Surely he could feel how soaked my underwear had become.
His hands worked up under my shirt as more lighting flooded the room. God, he looked intense. I knew it was going to happen, but I still jumped at the delayed boom of thunder. I was nervous. I thought I wanted this, but being in his bed threw me off balance.
“Christ,” he mumbled, presumably about the storm. His hand slid over my breasts, his fingers gliding from one to the other, moving under the fabric of my shirt. My nipples tightened uncomfortably, aching for more attention. I subtly arched beneath him to encourage it. Could he tell? I’d given up on feeling guilty. He was going to take whatever he wanted, so I’d might as well enjoy it.
“I can’t believe the storm didn’t wake me, too,” I said.
His hand continued to skim across my breasts, circling and tracing patterns. “It didn’t wake me, I couldn’t sleep.”
I tensed. “Because of your meeting?”
His hand stilled. “No.” It drew hesitantly away, and I felt the shift go through him. “My mother died on a night like this.”
I controlled my intake of air so it didn’t sound like a gasp. He rolled onto a hip and stayed to one side of me, propped up on an elbow. Someone else was in command of my body, not me, because my hand lifted and touched his face, cupping his jaw. It was a tender, reassuring gesture, and I thought myself incapable. When someone else got emotional, I usually felt awkward and inept. But with him . . .
“What happened?” It was just loud enough over the driving rain. I wanted him to tell me about the event which had clearly shaped the man.
His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. It was dark in the room, but I could still see him. He looked reluctant, but not angry that I’d pried.
“My parents . . . fought a lot,” he said. “She knew he was screwing other women behind her back, but she let it happen as long as my father kept it discreet.” His gaze drifted away from mine and lingered on the pillow beside me, staring vacantly. “My mom came home to find him fucking the whore in their bed.”
The whore, not a whore. “Tori?”
He nodded slowly. “She was just nineteen. My mother loved my father but she wouldn’t stand for it. They fought like I hadn’t heard them before. Screaming, and breaking shit, and saying things a nine-year-old shouldn’t have to hear.”
My heart twisted.
But his expression turned to stone. “She said she was going to the cops and would tell them everything about my uncle’s business. It was storming like this, but she got in her car and took off. It was the last time I saw her.” His hand glided over my waist, holding me. It felt possessive and imprisoning, but I didn’t mind being his prisoner right now. “She only made it halfway there before she lost control and hit a tree. My father said she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and died on impact.”
I covered my mouth with a hand for a moment, catching my breath. I didn’t know what to say, but there was a desperate need to say something. Anything. I was filled with sadness. “Luka.”
“That was the story I believed.” His voice was cold and detached. “I believed it because I was a stupid kid and that’s what everyone told me.”
The pieces began to come together, and my stomach dropped out. Story implied fiction. She hadn’t been killed in a car accident? “What really happened?”
“My father couldn’t have her talking, so when he told his brother what happened, my uncle sent someone to kill her.” There was so much contempt on Luka’s face, I could see the words tasted vile to him. “My father knew what was going to happen, and he didn’t do a fucking thing to stop it. He may not have put the bullet in her, but he killed my mother.”
I jerked in Luka’s hold, a physical reaction to his horrifying words. All of his hatred toward his father made terrible sense now and disgust roiled in my belly. Dimitrije had chosen his brother over his own wife, the mother of his children.
I knew the answer, but asked anyway. “When did you find out?”
“Two years ago. After my cousin’s trial, when he was celebrating his last night of freedom before going to prison, he got drunk, and high, and it all came out.” Luka’s hand twitched against my bare skin. “He doesn’t remember telling me.”
“What about Vasilije?”
“He doesn’t know. No one knows I’ve been told the truth.”
I swallowed hard. “Except me now.”
His guarded eyes peered into mine, and he looked sort of pleased to share the secret. Relieved, even.
“And who would you tell?” He’d spoken it like a half-joke, but it was too serious to hear anything but the real question.
Who would I tell? “No one.”
“I can’t tell Vasilije. He idolizes my father, but he loved our mother even more. It’d destroy him.”
So, even though the relationship was strained between the brothers, there was still love there. Luka was trying to protect his younger brother emotionally.
“You asked if I’d ever killed someone.” He settled down so his head was beside mine on the pillow, and his arm on my waist tightened. He was holding me.
My pulse sped. “You said you came very, very close once.”
“I blamed him for her death, even before I knew all of it. And after, I wanted to kill him like I’d never wanted anything in my whole goddamn life.”
The air in the room went thin. Luka took what he wanted, didn’t he? I barely squeaked out the words. “Then why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.” His uneven breathing ghosted over my skin. “I had the gun, and he didn’t know I was behind him. I thought I was ready, but I . . . I don’t know,” he repeated. “I hesitated. He’s my father.”
I turned my head toward him, and a lock of hair fell in my eyes. He brushed it back, his fingers skimming over my forehead and tucking the hair behind my ear.
“Don’t get any delusions about me being soft,” he said quietly. “I could change my mind and pull that trigger tomorrow.”
I gazed at him. The sharp angles of his sculpted face and serious eyes were beautiful. “No,” I whispered. “Soft isn’t a word I’d use to describe you.”
As if to emphasize my statement, thunder cracked and rumbled, making me jump while he remained unfazed. His gaze was heavy. It trapped me as he closed the tiny space between us and pressed his lips to mine in a slow, seductive kiss.
“Shit,” he whispered. “It’s so fucking late.” His mouth moved against mine lazily. “I need to get some sleep.”
It sounded like a dismissal. I blinked, and pulled back. “Oh. I’ll go.”
He looked pissed at the idea. “No, you won’t. That’s not what I meant.” He curled his arm around my shoulders, but looked uncomfortable with the embrace. It probably felt as foreign to him as it did to me. “You’ll sleep here tonight.”
I wasn’t supposed to want this. I certainly wasn’t supposed to have nervous flutters of excitement about it. He was my captor, controlling all aspects of my life, and had admitted he might be a murderer someday. But as he shifted closer and found a position that was more comfortable for both of us, I couldn’t ignore how I felt. Over the course of one week, my perception of Luka had changed dramatically. We were so similar in other aspects of our lives. Would I have turned out the same as he had if I’d lived his life?