can use the closet. I can put something in front of the door. My heart sinks in my chest. I don’t want to do that. That’s so fucking shitty. But I have to make sure she doesn’t leave.
I don’t know how to do this shit. I turn around and run a hand down my face as I shut my eyes briefly in exasperation. “Ava?”
“Yes?” she answers quickly. When I open my eyes, her light blues stare back at me. Thank fuck. I couldn’t stand her looking at nothing, avoiding my gaze and looking as though she’s trying to fade from existence. I’m glad she listened.
“How does this normally work for you?” I ask, and cross my arms across my chest. I don’t really give a shit that I’m asking her. I’m sure as hell not calling up one of those sick fucks and asking them. I know a bit about this. I’m not proud to know, but I do. I can be her caretaker for a few days. I can do that. But I’m not fucking training women. Breaking them into submission. That shit’s not for me. I don’t want any part of that. But for now, I have to deal with Ava.
I’m not giving her the upper hand and giving her an option to take off. I can’t let that shit happen. I can’t piss off Petrov by losing her, even if I fucking hate what he’s doing. I’ll figure this shit out. If worse comes to worst, there’s the option of the closet.
Her mouth opens, but then closes quickly. Her eyes dart to the floor and then back to my face. Her fingers wrap around each other nervously. “I’m not sure how to answer,” she says in a calm voice that doesn’t match the anxiety she’s showing at all. Fear and apprehension wash off of her in waves.
I don’t like it. I fucking hate how hurt she is. “How about we take a seat?” I cock a brow at her and walk forward. I keep my movements slow. I half expect her to take a step back, to flinch. But she doesn’t move. She lets me place my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the bed.
I pat the comforter with my right hand. “Hop on up.” I sit my ass down and the bed dips with my weight as she climbs on and settles herself. Her shoulders turn inward, but she looks back at me expectantly, waiting for another order.
Jesus. I hate this shit. I know they trained her to behave like this. But I can’t handle this shit.
I’m staying far away from her. I can’t get attached. Can’t lose her, either. I’ll do what I have to so I can survive this, and then I’m cutting my ties. This shit isn’t for me.
“I need to head out and grab some things. I want you to stay here.”
“I understand,” she answers immediately. Like it’s that fucking easy.
“I’m thinking I should tie you up or put you in a room.” I don’t say it like a question, but that’s exactly what it is.
She nods her head slightly. “I understand,” she repeats. I take a deep breath.
“Which would you prefer?” I ask. I guess that’s the least I can do.
Her hand wraps around her wrist and a sad look crosses her face. “I would rather be locked in a room.”
“It’ll have to be the closet.” Her face falls at my words. I’d put her ass in the bathroom, but I can only imagine the trouble she’d get herself into. I could see her shattering the mirror and trying to stab me with a shard of glass. I’ve seen a lot of shit over the years. I’m keeping her ass away from anything that could be used as a weapon. And that means it’ll be the closet.
“I think I’d rather be tied up, if you’d allow it,” she responds. She swallows thickly and adds, “Please, sir.”
“I don’t like you calling me sir.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. They come out hard, but she doesn’t flinch. I probably shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know if they trained her to do that or not.
“I understand. I’ll call you whatever you wish,” she’s quick to respond.
I search her face, but I find nothing. “When they get here, call me sir. If anyone comes over, you call me sir. But for now, just call me Kane.” It’s probably a bad idea. All