The Darkest Temptation - Danielle Lori Page 0,64

Rome wasn’t built in a day. “What would you do if one of them was in my situation?”

“I would tell them not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

I blinked slowly. “I must be unfamiliar with Russian gifts. In America, being kidnapped isn’t equivalent to unwrapping a tin of butter cookies and that hideous scarf your grandma knitted for you on Christmas morning.”

With a roll of her eyes, she moved to right the rug. “There are worse things than being fed three times a day.”

“Like being tied to a bed covered in blood all night?”

“You got yourself into that mess, devushka.” She must room next door or have secret passages in the walls she peeked through. I was growing annoyed she was painting me in the wrong here, and even more irritated a part of me felt she was right.

“And I imagine you’d just lie here and take it,” I said in disbelief.

“You are dramatic. Master is not bad man.”

A constant beat ached in my head whenever someone spoke to me in this home that defied all rationality. The only thing Ronan needed in order to become the classic villain straight from the pages of a vampire novel was fangs. The fact Yulia couldn’t see that, given she just referred to him as “Master,” conjured the mental image of him brainwashing her with a supernatural power.

“I’m not sure how men courted in your day and age, but in the twenty-first century, this”—I tugged at the ropes on my wrists—“isn’t exactly the best third date.”

“Americans. Greedy, the lot of you.”

I dropped my head back onto the pillow. Clearly, I wouldn’t receive any help from Yulia.

“I have to pee,” I deadpanned.

“Congratulations.”

“Fine.” I shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not like I have to do the laundry around here.”

Narrowed eyes met mine, and I held them in challenge. After a stare-off that lasted longer than anyone sane would be comfortable with, Yulia moved to the bed and untied my wrists with the quick type of skill that conveyed this wasn’t her first time dealing with ropes or pets.

When I was free, I stared at my expression in the bathroom mirror. I looked like the college girl in a gory horror film who got killed first by a chainsaw. Considering the stupidity that got me into this situation . . . how apt a comparison. My stomach grew queasy, so I turned the shower to hot, stripped, and stood under the spray of water.

Red swirled down the drain, and at the sight, cold prickles erupted on the back of my neck. The memory crashed into me like a tidal wave, snatched the beating heart from my chest, and let it sink to the depths of the Atlantic.

Holding Mr. Bunny by his droopy ear, I watched the shiny red car pull into the drive from my window. I’d only seen the woman a couple of times after Papa put me to bed and thought I was sleeping.

I frowned, remembering the day before, when I told the neighbor boy I didn’t have a mother. He looked at me like I was so dumb, and then, he said everyone had a mom, and if they didn’t, they were an orphan. I didn’t want to be an orphan.

This woman had long blonde hair, just like me.

Maybe she was my mother.

Suddenly, I felt very thirsty, and the glass Papa left near my bed wouldn’t do. The water was old, and it probably had dust in it.

Mr. Bunny in hand, I tiptoed down the stairs in my nightgown. Papa always said he had a sixth sense that would tell him when I wasn’t in bed like I was supposed to be, but only a four-year-old would believe that, and I turned five yesterday.

My tummy dipped when shouts drifted down the hall. Papa never raised his voice. He must be very angry. I drifted toward the sounds and stopped in front of the closed library door.

Bang!

My heart jumped. I leapt back, and Mr. Bunny slipped from my fingers.

Then, it went silent.

Red paint leaked from beneath the door, soaking my favorite stuffed animal. He was mine, and now he was ruined. I scooped him up while a sob worked its way up my throat. Warm paint stained my hands and nightgown. It was a mess, and now I’d have to take a bath. Everything was ruined.

The library door opened. Papa said a bad word and blocked the doorway with his body, but I could see his friend asleep on the floor with long

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