Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
The fear and panic I had successfully vanquished with vodka come roaring back. This time with greater force. What does Nikolai mean when he says my life as I knew it is over?
"I don’t want this," I say breathlessly.
His fingers brush against mine where they're gripping the armrest. "You need to accept it."
I jerk my hand away. "I'll never accept this."
He leans in closer, and I can smell him, something dark and delicious that makes my pulse race. His lips are close to my ear when he speaks.
"We'll see, malyshka. We'll see."
He pulls back and stands and returns to his seat. He opens a laptop and begins working, dismissing me as casually as if I'm not even here.
I'm left trembling in my seat, wrapped in luxury as we hurtle through the darkness toward an unknown destination.
Toward a fate I can't even imagine.
4
HOLLY
I wake to the sensation of movement. To strong arms cradling me against a solid chest. My eyes flutter open, and feeling disoriented, I take in the star-scattered sky above us.
"Easy," Nikolai's voice rumbles against my ear. "We're here."
Dazed, I realize I must have fallen asleep on the jet despite being kidnapped.
But when I look around, I can see we’re not at the airport. We’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snow, darkness, and a snow-capped alpine forest. The only light out here comes from a mountain lodge up ahead.
Not only did I fall asleep on the plane, but apparently I slept through a car ride also.
But how did I sleep through—
“Oh my god. You drugged me.” The realization hits hard, and I twist in Nikolai’s arms, trying to break free.
“Relax. It was just a mild sedative to calm your nerves. You were petrified of flying.”
“I was petrified because I was being kidnapped.”
“You were as white as a ghost.”
“What did you give me?”
He must’ve had the flight attendant put something in my vodka.
“Something for uneasy flyers.”
I struggle in his arms again. But he holds me in an impossibly strong embrace.
"Put me down," I demand, but my voice comes out hoarse and uncertain.
Nikolai ignores me and carries me up wooden steps to a massive lodge that looms before us.
I catch glimpses in the exterior lighting. Raw timber beams. River rock. Expansive glass. The door swings open, and suddenly we're inside.
The warmth hits me first. Then light. Then the sheer, overwhelming luxury of the mountain lodge I’m standing in.
"Welcome to my home, malyshka," Nikolai says, setting me on my feet.
I stumble back from him immediately, putting distance between us, and wrap my arms around myself as I take it all in.
Cathedral ceilings. A stone fireplace, already crackling with fire. Floor-to-ceiling windows framing an endless darkness outside.
I turn to face Nikolai. "Where are we?"
"Welcome to Ransom, Alaska," he says, moving toward a bar near the fireplace. "Remote enough that screaming won't help you." He pours a clear liquid into a crystal glass. Vodka. The expensive kind. "Would you like one?"
"No." I hug myself tighter. I have to be smarter. He’s already managed to drug me once. "I want to go home."
"Not possible." He takes a slow sip, those piercing eyes never leaving mine. "And it’s going to be a long and uncomfortable stay if you keep asking."
I gnaw at my lower lip. Frantically trying to figure out a way to convince him to let me go. “Why are you doing this?”
He takes another sip of his drink. “You know why.”
"People will wonder where I am. The police—"
"Won’t look for you." He sets his glass down and starts toward me.
“I have friends.”
“No one who will be immediately concerned when they haven’t seen you for a few weeks.”
His words hit me hard. Because he’s right.
Since the accident, I’ve struggled to get close to people. I mean, I have friends, just no one who will immediately miss me.
I back up instinctively, my shoulders hitting the wall beside the massive fireplace.
He stops a few feet away, close enough that I can see the darker ring around his irises.
"Also, the rent on your apartment has been covered for the next six months," he says conversationally, as if we're discussing the weather. "Same with your utilities. Phone. Power. You also purchased a flight to Boston, and it left on schedule, without you on it, but the ticket was used. As far as anyone knows, Holly Winters went away for Christmas. Oh, and you resigned from your job."
“What?” The word comes out in a harsh whisper as my stomach drops. "How did you—"
He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket. My phone. He must’ve charged it on the plane.
"I'm very good at making people disappear when necessary." His gaze trails down my body, then back up to my face. "Though with you, I'm finding it difficult to decide if keeping you hidden is professional caution or personal preference."
Heat floods my cheeks. "You're a psychopath.”