Chapter 12: Chapter Eleven

Police are still investigating the slew of murders taking place down in Pike's Market. Another woman’s body was found, her reproductive organs stripped from her body and on her face a hollow smile. Women are strongly encouraged to stay indoors at night. —The Seattle Tribune

Maya

Sleep didn't come—though I prayed and begged for it every hour I woke up and saw the alarm clock glaring back at me.

My head hurt.

My brain hurt.

And after again ransacking the apartment for any sort of way to either escape or put a giant SOS on the window… I fell into a pit of despair.

Because I knew, that in the end, I'd signed a contract, my dad had sold me. I didn't really have a leg to stand on.

Plus, just like Nikolai said, who would actually believe me? They'd probably think I'd gone insane.

With a groan I flipped over on my side and finally managed to get out of bed. Nikolai said to report to work at eight, wearing black.

I wasn't sure if work meant in his offices or the one downtown, but I figured asking questions would just get him upset all over again.

He wasn't what I had expected.

Sure, he was gorgeous, entitled, controlling, but every single thing that came out of his mouth was guarded.

A part of me—the stupid part—was curious, while the rest of me wanted to push him off the highest balcony I could find.

The shower did wonders for my attitude, and when I went back into the closet to find an outfit, I admitted that he'd actually picked out some pretty ridiculously cool clothes for me.

I settled on a black Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress with some black heels and grabbed a gold chain from the nearby dresser.

I grabbed a wool coat, just in case it rained and I was somehow given leave to go outside for a break, and then went into the kitchen.

And froze.

“How was your evening?” Nikolai asked, scrambling eggs over the stove like it was the most natural thing in the world, for him to make me breakfast in my kitchen, another not-so-subtle reminder that he could enter and exit my life at will.

Even my private space was not truly mine. I imagined it would never be, as long as he was in my life.

“Horrible,” I said honestly. “And I hate eggs.”

“Don't lie.”

That was it. Just a “don't lie,” and he continued tossing in chopped up peppers and cheese.

With a huff I sat on the bar stool and watched his muscles flex beneath his shirt as he moved around the kitchen. He looked good there, comfortable, not as haunted as he normally looked.

I knew I was being shameless in watching him, but it was impossible not to, the man was so beautiful that it was mentally frustrating.

Why did the beautiful ones have to be sociopaths?

His rich chocolate hair curled behind his ears, dark eyes focused on the food in front of him and his muscled body stretched and strained against the tight pale blue pinstripe shirt.

“Why are you here?” I asked, “Wasn't I supposed to meet you?”

“Got hungry,” he shrugged.

“And every Starbucks within the vicinity was closed?” My eyebrows arched.

He chuckled.

A laugh escaped from between his lips.

I clenched my teeth together only because it was a nice laugh, warm like honey. Damn him.

“No,” he finally turned around, smile still in place. “I actually was thinking it would be good for us to have a chat before work.”

“A chat, huh?” I fidgeted in my seat.

“Yes,” his smile flashed again, and my knees went weak. I licked my lips and looked away.

“So, chat.”

“Bossy.”

“Like you should talk,” I muttered.

“You look nice.” He pulled out a plate and served the eggs onto it then handed me a fork. “I like black on you.”

“Apparently you like black on people and white on walls.”

His smile froze. “Pardon?”

“Walls.” I pointed around me. “Everything you live in is pristine, white, makes a girl wonder if you hate getting dirty.”

His eyes darkened as he leaned forward and flicked his tongue across his lips. “Are you asking me if I like getting dirty?”

No. No, I wasn't.

Because I was pretty sure we were talking about two different types of dirty, and I wasn't at all prepared for his answer, not with the way he was looking at me like he could devour me in an instant.

“Um…” I shoveled a forkful of egg into my mouth and nodded. “Good eggs.”

His expression changed from predatory to innocence. “Thanks.”

Were we actually having a normal non-creepy conversation? I cleared my throat and continued eating so I wouldn't ruin it by talking.

“Yesterday…” He ran his fingers through his hair. He did that a lot, almost like he used his hair for his power when he had to talk about things he didn't want to talk about. “It was a hard day…”

“Can I ask why?”

“You can ask.” He shrugged, “But I'll lie.”

“Alright, then.” I put down my fork and folded my hands. “So, it was a hard day.

“Doesn't mean you have a right to own a girl, make her sign over her life all within an hour of meeting her, then yell at her.”

“I never yelled.”

Sighing, I rolled my eyes. “Well, you sure don't like using an inside voice.”

His face cracked into a smile. “Like I said before, I need someone of your talents.”

“I don't have sex for money.”

“Why are you so concerned with having sex with me?” He smirked, “Seriously, I want to know.”

“Uh, I just, you seem like the type of man who—”

“—can't get a woman without paying for her services?” He finished, “That type?”

“Well no, but—”

“The type of man who needs to make a woman sign a contract in order to engage in an illicit affair?”

Was he seriously asking me that? My cheeks burned with embarrassment while my heart thumped with a wild curiosity. Images of bondage and blindfolds danced through my mind… and those masks.

“That's not what this is.” His eyes were kind, damn him, and I felt like crying. I could handle an ass, but someone sensitive to my feelings? Not so much.

Because I hadn't experienced it much in my short life… my mother ignored me as much as she could, paying all her attention to my father.

And my father, well safe to say if he was ever given a father of the year award it would be because he freaking paid for it.

“So, you need me,” I finally said after a few moments of tense silence. “Why exactly do you need me?”

“Your research—” He drummed his fingertips along the counter. ”—amongst other things, is absolutely brilliant.”

My heart soared. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” He smiled. “I see real promise, and I want you to study under me, but some of the ways I do my own personal research isn't exactly…” He shrugged. “Legal.”

“Thus, the contract.”

“Exactly.”

“But thirty girls?”

He froze, drew a deep breath, then shrugged again. “They didn't follow the rules, therefore they got fired.

“I decided that what I needed wasn't necessarily an assistant to replace Jac but someone who could empathize with what I was doing.”

It was the most information he'd told me in two days. I clung to it like a lifeline. “And if I do well?”

“Then the world is yours.” He flashed a smile. “But all the rules from yesterday still stand… what I deal with is very sensitive and not known to the public.

“Do your job, with a smile on your face, and as we build trust… slowly, I'll amend the contract.”

“So, I prove my trust and I get Netflix?”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, something like that, but one thing… you still can't date… or sleep around.

“I can't imagine that will be a problem for you all things considering but, I can't have you mixing business with pleasure.”

And all the happy moments we shared just went out the window. “I’m not a saint.”

“Lie.” He leaned forward and winked. “I know everything about you. Now, let’s get to work. We have a short day before we go… fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“In a sense.” He shrugged. “For patients.”

“What?”

“Keep up.” He knocked the countertop with his hands. “I’ll show you what you’ll be doing during the day and during the evening… you’re mine.”

“Can’t wait,” I said dryly.

“Most women… would be… pleased.” He shoved a pair of keys in his pocket, looking sexy as hell while doing it. “I imagine you’d rather stab me.”

“Good guess.” I said with a sweet voice.

“Russians.” He shook his head. “Always so ruthless.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Prove your worth, Maya. Let’s go.”