Page 121 of Venomous Desires

But I stilled as soon as I saw the table. It was loaded with dishes and Russian cuisine that filled the air with rich, mouth-watering aromas. There was borscht, the deep red soup made from beets, its earthy scent mingling with the tang of sour cream. Next to it, a plate of blini, thin pancakes with hints of butter and sweetness, lay stacked high. The smell of pelmeni—dumplings filled with meat—wafted up, the savoury scent making my stomach clench in sudden hunger. And there was shashlik, skewered and grilled meat, smoky and succulent, itsaroma so strong it almost made my mouth water.

My body reacted on its own, my stomach growling at the sight. Hunger gnawed at me, but so did a deep, unsettling unease. I glanced at the table, picking the seat farthest from where he was headed. My pulse quickened, half-expecting him to drag me to his side, to control even where I sat. But he let me be, and that, somehow, made me even more nervous.

Ignoring him, I grabbed a plate and began piling it with food. The hunger was overwhelming, and I couldn’t resist the urge to dig in. I focused on the meal, refusing to acknowledge the eyes I knew were watching me. He was always watching, always waiting, like a predator circling its prey.

Let sleeping dogs lie, I told myself. I could look for my phone after he was gone. Just as the thought crossed my mind, I heard a light thud, something placed on the table with deliberate care. My body reacted before my mind did; my hand freezing with the spoon just inches from my mouth. I looked in his direction, almost unconsciously, and my blood ran cold.

There it was.

My phone.

Sitting on the table like a trap waiting to snap shut. My head snapped up to him, heart pounding in my chest. He continued cutting his steak, sliding a piece into his mouth with a smirk that hadn’t wavered.

He hadmyphone. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Why did he have it?

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. That’s what it felt like—trading one danger for another, with no escape in sight.

He knew what he was doing. Making me feel how pathetic I was, and he could easily take away my freedom. That was his way of controlling me, though I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he even had to go to such extreme lengths.

Taking a deep breath I desperately needed, I put down thespoon and gathered the remaining of my courage. But the words remained lodged in my throat.

A tremor ran through me as I stared at him, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He cut another piece of steak slowly and deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world. The smirk on his lips remained intact. He wasn’t just playing with me; he was toying with my very sanity.

Pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain.

“What’s the matter, Ptichka?” he titled his head, chewing softly, voice that scrapped against my head. “You’ve gone pale. Lost your appetite?”

I wanted to scream, to shout at him, to demand why he had my phone, what he’d done. But the words caught in my throat, tangled with the fear that he’d already seen something—anything—that he could use against me. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head, already plotting, already knowing how to twist the knife deeper.

“Why… do you have my phone?” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin and manspreading his legs. “You left it lying around,” he shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I thought I’d keep it safe for you.”

Safe. The word tasted bitter, like a lie wrapped in sweet honey. I didn’t trust him—couldn’t trust him. Once bitten, twice shy. I knew better than to believe his empty reassurances.

“Don’t worry,” when I kept shut, he continued. “I didn’t go through it… much.” The smirk returned, sharper, more dangerous. “But if you’ve got something to hide, now’s the time to confess.”

A guilty conscience needs no accuser. I had nothing toconfess, nothing I should feel guilty about, but his words twisted everything inside me, making me doubt, making me second-guess every choice, every action.

I swallowed hard, pushing the plate away. The food felt like lead in my stomach, heavy and unwelcoming. My hands trembled as I reached for the phone, fingers brushing against it cautiously, as if it might burn me. His gaze followed the movement, dark amusement dancing in his eyes, feeding off my unease.

As I was about to grab it, his hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist, shackling it to the table. Heart pounding loudly and I trembled at his touch.

His grip tightened around my wrist, forcing my hand to still. I could feel his gaze, like ice, seeping into my skin, making my pulse race even faster. My breath was caught somewhere between my throat and lungs, trapped, just like I was.

Slowly, deliberately, he pulled out his own phone and placed it in my trembling palm. The weight of it felt wrong—like holding something tainted. My fingers curled around it instinctively, though I knew there was no comfort to be found there.

“I don’t think you need this,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. The sound of it sent shivers crawling up my spine. He leaned in closer, so close that I could feel the heat of his breath against my cheek. Then, with a cruel smirk, he waved my own phone in front of my face, dangling it just out of reach like a cruel taunt.

The shattered remains of my hopes lay before me, and now, this—his words, his actions—were the final nail in the coffin.

“You don’t have anyone to call,” He was so sure, so convinced of his control over me, over every aspect of my life.

My throat tightened as the last flicker of resistance I’d been holding onto began to wither. I was alone, truly and utterly alone, with no one to turn to, no one who could save me fromthis nightmare.

I stared down at the phone he’d placed in my hand, my vision blurring as tears welled up, but I refused to let them fall.