Five

ESTHER

There wasn’t just food at the breakfast table. It was lavish. I tried not to cringe at the fact that this food could feed a family for a week. Plates of omelets, French Toast, cinnamon rolls, butter, coffee, and orange juice overwhelmed me.

I didn’t know where to sit. Was I supposed to sit next to Petrov or at the end of the table, out of his sight? The table had sixteen chairs. I didn’t see the sense in that, since the breakfast was only for two. I headed toward the back of the table until his voice stopped me.

“Sit right next to me where I can see you.”

I nodded and did as he ordered.

He sat at the head of the table.

I took my plate and began gathering an omelet and French Toast. I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask for permission to begin. I didn’t know if he was supposed to eat first than I would follow? I didn’t care right now. He didn’t seem to mind, nor did he stop me. My stomach grumbled loudly, embarrassingly loud, and it caught Petrov’s attention.

He smirked at me.

I hated his annoying smirk.

“Hungry?” he asked.

I averted my eyes and stared at my plate. I reached for the coffee, but just then his hand brushed against mine. I froze, caught off guard. It was the second time he’d touch me. I glanced up at him sharply. He had reached for the coffee too. His hand was soft against mine, and I tried not to think too much about it.

My eyes met his.

His eyes were like a cool steel, like a hungry wolf, a predator. I looked away, and I withdrew my hand. I waited for him to finish pouring his coffee first.

I slowly began to eat, forcing myself to chew in small bites, because it was hard to swallow with this huge lump in my throat.

I didn’t know what would become of me, but I didn’t want to be sent to work in a brothel nor become a sex slave. I didn’t know what was worse. Maybe sex slavery. Growing up, I was aware of people who sold themselves in brothels or on the streets for money. You could at least refuse in that setting, couldn’t you?

You could turn down a client. You would get paid. You could place limits. You could choose, but I never heard of anyone who was willing to be human trafficked.

No choice, no limits.

I didn’t think I could live with myself being a sex slave with no identity, being owned by someone, and going from one owner to another. Becoming hollowed shells of who they used to be, those victims who had lost too much. I didn’t want to lose myself like that. I wanted to be stronger, but it was getting hard to when the flesh I was in could be so cruel.

“What are you thinking?” Petrov’s deep murmur interrupted me.

I glanced up at him and just shook my head.

“Nothing.” I lied.

He seemed to be looking at me curiously, but I didn’t have any words to speak.

Mrs. Margarita was spreading butter on the toast with a knife. Just then, she placed it on the table and left. The knife was right next to me. Was she helping me? I averted my eyes from the knife before Petrov realized what I was staring at. She couldn’t be helping me. She seemed loyal to Petrov, and she hadn’t offered to help me escape. I hadn’t asked her for help because I knew she wouldn’t.

She probably placed the knife down and had forgotten about it. I tightened my hold slightly on the napkin near me, and I kept my gaze on my food.

I saw an opening and I took it.

Just then, I grabbed the knife.

Petrov was instantly out of his chair and grabbed my wrist.

I rose from my own chair, knocking it over with a thud.

I snarled at him and tried to stab him with the knife, but he grabbed my hand, stopping me. He stared at me with disappointment and anger. Wrath emanated from him, and I could feel it in the air around us. He was pissed off. It wasn’t wise to piss off a man who was eating. I’d disturbed his breakfast and his ruined his appetite.

Had he really not expected me to fight back though?

He was planning on selling me. His father had drilled that into his brain now.

His hand gripped my wrist tighter. It was enough to make it hurt but not enough to leave a bruise. His touch wasn’t like Tev’s. This seemed more like a warning, not an attack. I dropped the knife from my hand, and it fell onto my plate with a clang.

I didn’t pay any attention to it. My eyes narrowing in on Petrov. My breaths came out in heavy puffs. I refused to be sold. I wouldn’t let him.

“Fuck you,” I lashed out with as much hatred as I could muster.

I instantly regretted the words that came out of my mouth.

My voice was loud, and Petrov’s men could hear me. They were suddenly in every corner, surrounding us from a distance, but not interfering yet. I caught their expressions. They looked shocked, and their hands instantly went to their guns, but Petrov held out a hand to stop them.

I stilled and so did he.

Damn, my big mouth.

We both stared at each other although I wasn’t successful at hiding my frustration. I set my mouth tight and my gaze hard. I hated him with every fiber in my body, and I wasn’t afraid to show it.

“We all know, Esther, you’re the one who’s getting fucked.”

His voice was loud. Loud enough for his men to hear.

Tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I tried blinking them back to avoid them from spilling over. They couldn’t fall so easily. I refused to cry.

I hated that expression on his face. He was so damn smirky and amused.

Just then, he moved the knife away from me, hiding it from me. His hold on my arm dropped, and he sat back down in his chair. His eyes demanded me to do the same. I was afraid to disobey so sat in my chair like a scolded, hurt toddler.

“Maybe by multiple men.”

He was saying this all casually as he sat down and sipped his morning coffee.

I hoped he wouldn’t sell me, even if he kept me for himself it would still be better.

“You would make a nice slave. I could imagine you in a black collar. You bruise nicely.”

My blood ran cold. What was his deal? He had touched the marks on my neck with distaste on his face, now he was admiring what worse injuries would look like? He was so cold. I exhaled slowly and stared anywhere and everywhere but at him. I had a hard time digesting what he was insinuating.

“Maybe, they’ll put a new hole in you after they’re Capoe with what you already have.”

I closed my eyes at his aloof voice.

His words were no longer just cruel.

They were vicious. He was vicious.

The tears in my eyes threatened to overwhelm me, already blurring my vision.

I felt true fear this time. Petrov was planning on doing what his father wanted all along. I felt defeated now. That fire I had earlier quickly disappeared. I tried not to sniffle and tried to keep my back straight. I could be strong.

I am strong. I am fearless.

Well, I was shit scared now, but fake it till you make it, right?

Petrov lay his hand on top of mine like he was being territorial. Marking his claim.

Then, he gently rubbed my hand with his thumb.

It caught me off guard and I froze.

To everyone’s eyes, it would look like he was being possessive but up close, his touch meant something else. I still didn’t meet his eyes and stared at my plate that was filled with now cold food. Now, I was more confused than ever. Was it all blood and games to him?

“Capo’t you fucking dare talk to me like that again,” he warned, in a deep commanding voice that overwhelmed the room.

Was he going to hurt me? His touch was gentle. It said something else, but his tone gave another message entirely.

Then a hushed whisper came.

“For your sake and mine, Capo’t force my hand in front of my men.”

His voice was so low. I was afraid he hadn’t spoken at all.

It was gentle now.

His voice matched his touch.

My surprised eyes met his.

I was truly terrified and there was no hiding it from him.

His jaw was set tight, but his eyes were softer.

His gaze was different.

Is he acting for his men?

I studied him, curiosity now replacing my fear. This wasn’t the man I had heard of.

Petrov Kotov. He was supposed to be pure evil.

My shoulders relaxed, but I kept my guard up.

I couldn’t let my defenses down, I had too much to lose, but I saw something different in him today.

Something along the lines of mercy.

❖

After the cold breakfast, Petrov had told me to return to my room.

Dismissed.

I nodded and then obeyed.

The asshole even appointed one of his men to stand guard outside my room. I guess after my failed attempt to stab him, he didn’t trust me. Good, we were on the same page then. I didn’t trust him either.

Both lunch and dinner were brought to my room.

Apparently, Petrov believed I wasn’t safe to be around him.

Nighttime fell.

I thought tonight might be the night Petrov would come and take me, but he never did.

Nor did he the next night.

Or the next.

❖

I sat in front of my vanity table.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My skin was getting paler and dark circles hung around my eyes. My eyes looked sunken, making my eyes appear larger than usual. Doe eyes. That’s what they called me at one of my foster homes. At first, I thought it was an endearing term, but then I realized the hard way, that it was meant another way.

Trying to forget the past, I focused on myself in the mirror.

My reflection meant I was alive. It reminded me of my existence.

I had been kept caged in this room for days now. I didn’t have anything to do. There wasn’t anything in this room that could keep me occupied. There was only so much time I could spend in the jacuzzi or practicing yoga without getting bored.

I kept track of how many days passed by counting the nights I slept.

It was the seventh night now, and the isolation was bothering me. I needed to talk to someone. Anyone. Petrov hadn’t come to me, and Mrs. Margarita brought breakfast, lunch, and dinner to my room, but she always scurried away when I called out her name.

The door would always click after her, locking me in.

I blinked slowly until I heard the doorknob being turned. My head jerked in that direction, waiting for the door to open. It was past dinnertime, and Mrs. Margarita had already left.

My heart sped up a little. I hoped it wasn’t Tev. I still hadn’t seen him around. Maybe he was taking time off, recovering. A hysterical giggle erupted through my mouth. Time off, huh? In a life like this, there was no day off. It wasn’t a normal job.

I stopped laughing when I saw who it was.

The door was wide open now.

Petrov leaned against the doorframe.

He stared at me.

I wore a flimsy, black satin nightie that ended at my knees. I looked like the queen of death right now. I knew it was see-through, but thankfully I had my underwear on. My arms were bare. I felt too exposed in front of him from the way his eyes traveled from my face to my body. I wrapped the satin, black robe around me, slipping into the soft fabric, letting it caress my skin. I tightened the belt, feeling better knowing that I was fully covered. My attempt to cover up would be futile if he decided to close the distance between us and pull the belt open, then I would be exposed all over again, but it made me feel better.

I looked up and met Petrov’s cool eyes.

They were different. I had expected heat or desire, but they looked amused. The familiar expression he had shown me before was back again. He leaned against the doorframe casually and carefree. If there were two words to describe him. It was those. It was hard to detect what he was truly like. He was hard to study.

He wore a silk navy blue shirt and formal black pants. The top two buttons of his shirt were open, and his cuffs were rolled up. His shirt was half tucked in and half out, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted. To be formal or not to be formal…

I waited for him to speak or enter the room, but he remained where he was.

He didn’t come in.

Was he waiting for permission?

Then, I wanted to laugh. It was his mansion. His room.

“How are you liking isolation?” Petrov asked.

I met his stare head-on. So, was this my punishment for trying to attack him?

“It’s cozy,” I replied with a hint of sarcasm.

His upper lip quirked up. I almost thought it was a soft smile, but then I scoffed. People like him didn’t genuinely smile unless it was to taunt.

Their hearts and insides were dead.

“Maybe next time, you will think twice before attacking me, Esther.”

I liked the way he said my name. I couldn’t help but like it. My name sounded like a seductive purr coming out his mouth.

“You’re getting too pale,” he commented.

Of course. I was caged here. I didn’t get any sun.

I kept quiet, not wanting to snap at him.

“I have nothing to do here,” I confessed in a small voice.

It’s so lonely.

Petrov stared at me curiously. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What’s going to happen to me? I asked you, but you never replied.”

I waited for his response. I thought he would answer me but instead he asked me something, “What do you like doing?”

He’s asking about my interests?

I stared at him suspiciously.

“I like gardening,” I began. “But I Capo’t think I’m allowed outside.”

I gave him a weak smile with dimmed hope. I tried looking for mercy in his eyes again. Usually, I’m good at reading people, but Petrov was a dark mystery.

“What else?” he prompted.

“Literature,” I replied. “I like books.”

His ears seem to perk up then, and he gave me a lazy smirk.

“Belle from Beauty and the Beast liked to read to,” he commented.

I stared up at him, quizzically. “This isn’t a fairytale though.”

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Perhaps not. You’re a little beauty though.”

His compliment seemed genuine, and it lacked any leeriness behind it. I didn’t smile as I looked up at him. “You know, the original name of Belle is actually Beauty.”

“Should I start calling you that then?”

“Should I call you Beast?” Then, I grimaced at how I sounded. I shouldn’t be provoking this monster. I tried before, and I ended up being on lockdown. “Beauty sounds… kinda cheesy.”

He gave me another one of his small smirks.

I didn’t know what he wanted. He had made no attempt to touch me nor moved any closer to me. He still lingered by the door, not moving closer.

“I’ll have Natalie bring you books.”

I looked at him in confusion.

“Mrs. Margarita,” he clarified.

Then I nodded. Of course, that’s who it would be.

Then, he turned around to leave.

My breath hitched, not wanting him to leave.

He was the first human contact I’d had in days. I realized, I wanted more of it. I wondered if this was a calculating tactic he was using. Cage me up. Lock me in. Deprive me of everything. Isolate me, then slowly visit me until I began to crave him and throw myself at him. It was a smart plan. A classic case of Stockholm Syndrome. But I didn’t know why Petrov needed to manipulate me. He didn’t need to play mind games with me when his word was law here.

Maybe, he doesn’t want me to hate him.

“Wait,” I called out, withing thinking.

Stupid. I was so stupid. I should have kept my mouth shut.

Petrov’s back stiffened and he stopped walking. Then, he turned back toward me, arching an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to speak.

“Will you…come back?” I asked.

I cringed when I realized how pathetic I sounded. The easiest way to control someone in captivity was through isolation. It was basic psychology. But I didn’t want to be alone. For the past week, I had been left confined to my room.

I missed it.

The human contact.

I Capo’t know what was more dangerous.

Petrov raping me.

Or Petrov not raping me and using isolation to make me go mad.

Then, his expression turned amused, and his lip lifted in a smirk. “Do you want me to come back?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” I replied softly with no hesitation in my voice.

He was the enemy, yet I wanted him around.