He yanks my body across the seat, pinning me belly down in his lap. His hand collides against the cheek of my ass, hard.
I don’t make a sound. Or even flinch. Because his spankings are nothing compared to Arman’s fists. This only angers him further. He rains down a series of hard slaps, grunting each time he does. It’s the man in the driver’s seat who captures his attention when he turns around and taps him on the shoulder.
“Lyoshka.”
Alexei freezes, his hand still on my ass. I’m staring at the door handle, still mourning the loss of my attempt. And then he yanks me upright, into his lap. His eyes meet mine, and his hand comes up to my face. Gentle. So very gentle. There’s remorse in his gaze. But I don’t know why. He didn’t hurt me. He could never hurt me. Nothing can anymore.
When he recognizes that in my expression, the anger returns. His fingers grip my face and his breath is hot against my lips when he speaks.
“Do not ever try that again, Solnyshko. I am not a man you want to test, and you will not like what happens next.”
He pushes me back to my seat and buckles me in before locking the doors with the controls. And, just like that, we’re off again. For the briefest of moments, something passes between him and the driver in the rearview mirror. Some unspoken thought.
There is guilt in his expression. The driver speaks to him in Russian, but Alexei focuses on the landscape as though he didn’t even hear.
The remainder of the drive is quiet and tense. My ribs ache, and I can barely breathe. A deep, throbbing sorrow blooms inside of me, overwhelming the numbness.
I have tried and I have failed again.
And I know this man will never let me go. I have only traded one hell for another.
The car pulls to a stop, and outside I see that we are at a private airplane hangar. In the time that it takes me to turn back towards Alexei with questioning eyes, he’s already got a needle in my arm.
“Shh…” His fingers move over my panicked face. “Go to sleep.”
And I do.
5
Talia
My eyes flicker open and shut, a groan vibrating through my lips as I peel my face off the slab of leather it’s resting on. My head throbs and my mouth is too dry. I’m laying still, but something is moving beneath me. Tires, I realize after a moment. I’m in a car, sprawled across the back seat.
I attempt to flop over and my head bumps against something when I do. A trouser clad thigh. My eyes move up to find Alexei peering down at me.
“Where are we?” I croak.
“Just outside of Boston,” he answers. “Almost to my home.”
His answer sends a small wave of panic through me. And the words leave my mouth without a chance for my brain to filter them.
“I don’t want to go to Boston.”
He raises a brow at me and shrugs. “You are not.”
And that’s it. That’s all I need to hear to slip back into my comfortable state of numbness. The walls resurrect themselves, my emotional fortress restored.
I manage to sit upright, noting that I’m now fully clothed. In leggings and a sweater. There’s a brief question of who dressed me, but it disappears quickly. My attention is focused on the scenery outside.
I’m back in Massachusetts. My mind is too fragile right now to accept that. So I tell myself it isn’t real. That none of this is real. But even so, my lips repeat the words again.
“I’m not going back to Boston.”
Alexei gives me a curious look, but does not answer. And so I am satisfied with his silence. My thoughts slip away into the cavernous spaces of my brain and I just watch. The rolling expanse of trees outside of the window are an explosion of colors to my dull eyes. It is Autumn. And this is how I know Alexei’s words are true. There is nothing like Massachusetts in Autumn.
But it’s not real. And I’m not here.
The drive is long and quiet. Almost to Alexei means over more than an hour. I just watch the scenery fly by outside the window until my eyes hurt too much and I have to rest them again.
When we finally arrive at our destination, comfort surrounds me. The house is a fortress in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but wilderness. I am away from the people. Away from everything. Everything