Page 16 of Captured Obsession

I watch as Nikolai and Andrei converse. Andrei, wearing his own dark shades, offers a quick nod in response to whatever Nikolai is saying.

When Nikolai rounds the car and opens my door, he immediately curses as the music bombards him. Self-satisfaction bleeds through me. He leans over me to turn it down. His shoulder presses against my chest, and I feel his warmth seep into me. When I look down, I notice that his gun is within grabbing distance.

Then his hand gently lands on mine, and when I look up at him, he's watching me.

“Careful,mishka, you don’t want to hold a weapon you’ll never have the stomach to use. Best that you remain as a pretty doll, and you'll get out of this unscathed.”

I hate how he sees everything. But nonchalantly, I reply, “I was just assessing the lack of weapon elsewhere. But lucky for a big, strong guy such as yourself, somebody gave you a gun so you can compensate.”

His smile is feral as he says, “You’d be smart to watch that mouth of yours, or it’ll be used forsomething other than speaking or eating. And you'll find out howunderwhelmingof a weapon it is when you’re choking on it.”

“But I've choked on a Skittle before, so I don't think that’s any indication of your true size.”

He glowers at me from behind the sunglasses, and as he backs out of the car, my heart skips a bit as I swear I see the corner of his mouth tilt upward a fraction. Fuck me, this ruthless killer might have a sense of humor after all. I don’t know why I’m toying with him like this. It’s like I want to vex him as much as possible since I can’t escape my situation, but it’s a problem if I’m enjoying it.

He offers me his hand, and I take it, my gaze quickly roaming over the men, all wearing black, piling out of the other two cars. It's as if Nikolai has his own mini army. And the locals must think along the same lines, as most of them are quick to scamper away from the main street.

Nikolai ushers me across the street, Andrei following behind us as the others remain by the cars. He leads me toward what looks like a gelato shop and opens the door for me.

I give him a strange look but step inside. Yep, it’s definitely a gelato shop, complete with various types of candy stacked on top of the counter.

“This is a strange place to take someone to buy clothes,” I say.

He arches an eyebrow but says nothing as amiddle-aged woman with light-brown hair in a bun comes in through the back door. I'm shocked when Nikolai begins speaking a language I’m not familiar with.How many languages does he know?

She nods agreeably and then turns to me. “I hope you enjoy our selection,” she says in English with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” I reply, looking at Nikolai again, because surely they're not talking about the gelato.

“Follow me,” the woman says.

“Remain vigilant. No one else is allowed inside,” Nikolai says to Andrei in Russian. I continue to feign ignorance about understanding them, knowing that in a crucial time, it will come to benefit me.

I follow the woman through the door, my brain twisting a comical narrative that Nikolai has gotten lazy and has hired a polite-looking woman in her forties to chop my body into tiny parts to put in barrels instead of doing it himself. My stomach sinks as I realize how unfunny that is. This is why I shouldn’t be left with my own thoughts.

When I happen to glance down, my brows rise as I note the Louis Vuitton’s she’s wearing. If a woman can get a pair of those in the middle of nowhere, she’s certainly my kind of people.

Stepping through the door, my eyes go wide at the beauty before me. I can't help but smile as I see some of my favorite brands. A long row of clothes hangs on the wall-mounted racks on the left. In the center of theroom, there’s a plush cream couch with a pink rug beneath it, and a small, tasteful chandelier hanging overhead. The corner of the room is floor-to-ceiling mirrors, with what appears to be a changing room concealed by a long curtain.

I look up at Nikolai, trying my hardest to contain my excitement as my heart sings.

“Mr. Volkov informed me of your favorite brands ahead of time, which meant I could acquire quite the selection,” the woman says with a smile.

“Volkov?” I question.Is that his last name?Nikolai glares at her, and the atmosphere in the room goes colder.

I'm quick to speak so the woman isn't so frightened. “And we love a selection,” I say as I grab her hand and pull her along with me. She seems unsure as to whether she should leave her post, but I practically drag her over to the racks, ignoring Nikolai and his insufferable, intimidating glare. I don’t want this woman getting into trouble because of me, so I throw in as much enthusiasm as possible.

“Where should we begin?” I ask excitedly, but it’s only half feigned. The truth is, clothes have always been my happy place. They offer a great retail therapy. I love experimenting and expressing myself, and it’s the only way I've ever known how. So it’s easy for me to get caught up in this, instead of focusing on my fucked-up situation.

I gasp the moment I spot a beautiful, gold silkdress. “Oh, this is a must.” It's classy, and will accentuate my curves and long legs in all the right places. I let myself fall into that happy place. “Please tell me you have heels to match this.”

The woman swallows hard and turns a shade paler. “I'm sorry, miss. I was told you aren’t to have any heels.”

I pin Nikolai with an unimpressed look. “Petty much?”

He takes a seat on the couch in the center of the room. “I thought most women would say thank you for having access to this room.”

“Not that I'm not charmed by it, but we have very few…” I consider my words carefully. “Events to go to.” Nikolai made it very clear that no one will help me, even if they know I'm a prisoner. And the way the woman treats me would suggest that she has an inclination to please. To her, do I simply look like Nikolai’s … woman?