The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,60
the one Konstantin pushed that bitch into, opens. Konstantin comes out and eyes the situation.
“What the fuck is wrong?” he growls at me.
“He’s got a gun! It scared me.” I’m about two seconds away from snapping and losing my marbles completely.
“Don’t be hysterical,” the big blond says in thick accented English. “It’s not as if I put it to your head. Now that would be scary, da?”
“Come, I’ll show you to your room.” Konstantin takes my arm again in that proprietorial manner he has and half guides, half drags me up the stairs away from the unhinged blond.
When we hit the landing, I once more pull my arm free. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss. Not in anger, but fear. I’m like a feral cat who is terrified of its new keepers.
He grabs me again, harder this time, his fingers digging into my bicep. “You don’t make the rules anymore, jailbait. You fucked up, and this is your punishment. Not holiday camp.”
“Oh, it’s going to be punishment, alright.”
He stops and looks at me, a strange gleam in his stormy gaze. “Oh, baby, you don’t know what punishment is, or what I could do to you if I wanted.”
With those ominous words, he carries on moving, and I shut up. It seems the wisest choice.
We reach a door at the end of a corridor, which he opens into a sumptuous guest room. It’s a lot nicer than the one I stayed in with Michael’s friend, and that was amazing. How many guest rooms are there in this house?
“You have a private bathroom in there,” he tells me, pointing to a door to our left. “There’s a view out across the countryside. You can open the windows, but they only open so far.” He demonstrates, opening the window a quarter of the way and then closing it again.
“Is that so the damsels you keep kidnapping can’t let down their hair and escape?” I ask sarcastically, and immediately regret my words. I clamp my mouth shut and wait, but he doesn’t even react. Instead, he simply carries on talking in a bored voice.
“The downstairs door is alarmed, as are the doors leading out to the patio and the outside pool area. In the day feel free to move around the house and the immediate grounds. As of this weekend there will be dogs roaming the grounds, guard dogs, so you won’t want to be wandering around too far from the house. They are trained, and you will be one of the people I’ll introduce them to, but you go too far, and if things do go wrong, well … I can’t get to you easily. The fences are also electric, or they will be after I turn them on, so don’t touch them. The gate will be electrified too, and won’t open without the code, so don’t waste your time.”
“This really is a prison, isn’t it?” I shake my head.
“These things are more to keep Popov out than keep you in, darling, but see it as a prison if you wish. I really couldn’t care less.”
“God, all those months ago, when you came into the coffee shop…” I walk right up to him. “I thought you were something else. Handsome, cultured even. Now, though….”
“Now what?”
We’re so close. Close enough to touch, to kiss, to punch. I want to do all those things. I don’t like this man. Hate him maybe, but I still want to kiss him. I must be losing my mind.
“Now I think you’re an uncouth, cheap lowlife who is stupid enough to get a second-rate z-lister pregnant,” I spit the words at him, every single one a weapon, a bullet, meant to hurt.
He grabs me, one big hand around my throat, and backs me up until I’m against the wall. His body is hard against mine, his hand tight enough to keep me in place, but not to hurt. I can breathe, but the threat is there, explicit.
“Jailbait, watch yourself. This mouth of yours, this temper, it’s not an issue for me. I find it hot. Vasily, though? You’ve already pissed him off enough he had to give you a bit of carpet burn. I suggest you don’t do the same with Denis; he’d probably break some bones.”
I’m breathing heavily as he holds me in place, but he’s not done yet. “You’re right, though, I am stupid because the last thing I want is anything to do with Liza, but she’s pregnant, with my child, and I can’t and won’t turn