Chapter 7: Chapter Six

The last female victim has been identified as Mary Smith, a drug addict and prostitute. She was HIV positive. –The Seattle Tribune

Maya

Three hours later and I was still in a state of utter disbelief. I searched the entire apartment. No computer.

No phone, not even a phone jack, yes I'd actually gotten desperate enough to search for one.

I was stuck in a freaking compound.

At least I had food. And alcohol.

Pacing the marble white floor, I started chewing my thumbnail.

I was a smart girl, logical, able to put pieces together, but each time I tried to make the pieces fit, it was like they rejected each other, and I was just as confused as before.

Who was Nikolai Blazik? And why was I so important?

What the hell did my father do to get on this guy's bad side?

Furthermore, how was Nikolai in the type of position that he could exert power over my father—one of the scariest individuals I'd ever known?

Nothing made sense.

Except one thing… if my father made a deal with Nikolai, that meant he was a scary man, a bad man, one who would think nothing of killing me and making it look like an accident.

My head still hurt.

The sound of a lock turning had my heart speeding up like I was getting ready to witness my own murder. Funny, how I'd look back on that very moment and realize how true my own words were.

But in that moment, with the lock turning, all I could think was that it was some sort of sick joke, or that surely Nikolai would re-think his decision.

I had absolutely nothing to offer him—other than my brain and couldn't he find any girl to do what he needed me to do?

Air whooshed out of my lungs at seeing him again.

It should be a crime to be so beautiful, it was as if every single part of his body was in perfect sync with the universe as he made his way slowly across the marble floor, his shoes hitting in perfect cadence with my heart beat.

Slowly, his lips turned up into a breathtaking smile. One that had me staggering backward and wishing he was ugly so I could hate him.

But it was hard to hate pretty. Even I had to admit that. And Nikolai? He was more than pretty, he was beautiful. All our lives we're told that ugly, deformed, is bad—but it's a lie.

Sometimes the most terrifying things you will ever encounter are also the most beautiful.

“I see you've read the folder?” He pointed down at the coffee table where I'd basically made a massacre of all the different pages.

“Yeah.” I croaked.

My body and voice were so not in sync at that moment and my heart was still beating so hard I was afraid he was going to see the pulse in my neck and attack vampire style—he seemed the type.

In fact, the whole scenario seemed like a vampire movie gone bad.

“Any questions?” His right hand grazed my shoulder gently prodding me toward the couch. With no other option but to listen to his crazy talk, I sat.

“Questions,” I huffed. “Why can't I have access to the outside world? You do realize this is kidnapping, right?”

Nikolai pressed his lips together like he was fighting not to laugh. “Kidnapping would mean you were a mere child I'd lured here under false pretenses.”

“Need I remind you, you spent the better part of your year calling my offices begging—”

“I didn't beg.”

“—begging…” Brushing off my protest like an insignificant insect, he continued.

“… for one interview, for ten minutes of my time, at first I believe you asked for an hour but when that wouldn't work you were willing to meet me for twenty minutes, fifteen, finally ten, and I think the last phone call bordered on needing a restraining order when you threatened my secretary.”

Heat rushed into my face. “Well, I wasn't sure she was giving you my messages.”

“She was.”

Awkward. I chewed my lipstick—or what was left of it—from my lower lip. “So, you're saying that I'm here by choice.”

“Was it your choice to come to the office this afternoon?”

“Yes but—”

“And was it your choice to ask for an interview?”

“Yes.” I gritted my teeth. “But had I known it would be you owning me, not allowing me to question you, then I would have said no.”

He tilted his head to the side, his dark brown eyes going completely black. “That's a lie.”

“So now I'm a liar?”

“Yes.” He said it so simply, so confidently, that I wanted to strangle him. “You would have been too curious to turn me down.”

“Hah, curiosity killed the cat.” I made a cutting motion across my throat.

His eyes narrowed in on my neck, as if watching the very pulse that was starting to speed up again.

“You have beautiful skin… it's very… soft isn't it?” Lean fingers reached out and tapped the rhythm of my pulse against my neck. “Hmm…”

“Um.” My lips were trembling in anticipation of more touching. “About the job.”

“It's yours,” he whispered, still not taking his eyes from my neck.

“Gee thanks, because that's what I came here for, a job where I'm locked away from the Internet, can't make any phone calls or watch Netflix, oh, and am apparently prevented from engaging in any sort of sexual relationship.”

His hand jerked back. “So that's what this is about?”

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “Being locked up in solitary doesn't piss me off, but not being able to have sex does.” The asshole was insufferable!

Nostrils flaring, he turned away. “It's impossible.”

“What is?”

“A relationship.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down that gorgeous neck of his. I really needed to stop staring. He was the enemy—not a friend.

I think in those early moments I recognized things that should have given me warning. The way he stood, the way he touched me, even his eyes.

My subconscious had been warning me, but I was too horrified at my circumstances to listen.

Until it was too late.

“The pay is extravagant.” He licked his lips. “Half a million.”

“A year?” I croaked out. I’d been surrounded by money my whole life, but money, as my father said, had to be earned, it wasn’t freely given. Blood money above all else, was always earned.

“No.” Nikolai stood. “A month.”

“What?” I jumped to my feet. “Half a million a month? What the heck do you have me doing? Burying bodies!”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Would you? For half a million a month?”

“No.” Yes, probably, damn it!

“Another lie.” He angled his head in the other direction.

“Come now, aren’t we close enough that you can at least be honest about what makes you tick…?” He moved until he was chest to chest with me, until there was maybe an inch of space between our lips.

I fought the urge to lean. He smelled so good and something about him, maybe it was just his indifference, made me want to pick apart all his pieces.

See? I was back at the puzzle scenario.

“I barely know you,” I said in a strained voice.

“Would you like to?” His eyes hooded.

“If you let me go… I’ll come back to work every day. I swear, just let me have some sort of freedom and—”

“The contract is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. You either agree or…” His features inscrutable, he offered a weak half-shrug.

“Or?” I crossed my arms, taking a step back. “You kill me and bury my body?”

“You paying me half a million?” he fired back with a smile that actually managed to reach his eyes. “Everyone has a price, Maya.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” He nodded, and his smile dwindled a bit. “Your price was an interview, and look how generous I’m being… giving you a year in my presence.”

“So now I’m supposed to say thank you?”

“It would only be polite.” He smirked. “But I’m a patient man. I’ll wait until you say the words.”

“I never will.”

“Lie after lie… Will you never learn?”

“What are you, a personal lie detector?”

His eyes drank me in for a few seconds before he whispered, “I know people.”

A shiver rippled through me, but I managed to suppress it. “At least give me Internet.”

“I'll tell you what…” He crossed his arms, mimicking me. “I'll give you Internet… after you've worked for a few days and I find your work acceptable.”

“And if it's not?”

“Then we're back to burying bodies, aren't we?” Another smile lifted his lips. That meant he was joking, right?

“Okay.”

“Fabulous.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, go get dressed.”

“I am dressed.”

“Work.” He said in an “all business” manner, “Will start this evening, only because I don't have all week to train you. I need to be in Chicago Friday.”

“You get to go to Chicago while I sit in solitary confinement?”

“Would it make you happy if I gave you access to the library?”

“Library?” I perked up.

“You love the classics, am I right?”

“Stop being creepy.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “I don't think anyone's ever called me that.”

“To your face, probably not.”

“I like you.”

Schooling my expression, I leveled a cool stare on him and forced calm into my voice, even though I was ready to lose my sanity. “Well, the feeling's not mutual.”

He smirked. “Believe me, it will be. Now, go get dressed. The closet in the master bedroom should have adequate clothing. Wear all black and please try not to take too long, we don't want to be late.”

“You're the boss. It's impossible to be late.”

“Maya,” he snapped. “Get dressed. Now.”

Was I getting to him? A little thrill shot through me at the possibility. “Say please.”

“I haven't uttered that word in ten years.”

“Try.”

With a long sigh, he looked away and murmured, “Please.”

“Better.”

He pointed down the hall. “Go.”

“Fine.” I shuffled off in the general direction of the master bedroom and quickly found an outfit that would work: black leggings, a long black sweater, and black boots.

Several masks lined the wall of my closet—the type that might be worn at a masquerade. Did that mean he hosted parties up here? Or was he thinking I'd somehow put on a mask, too?

Well, he was in for one hell of a fight because I wasn't dressing up like it was Halloween in order to do a job I didn't even want. I accidentally knocked one of the masks off the wall as I walked by.

With a curse, I bent down and picked one up. There was something so familiar about the white, something so… red. It made absolutely no sense, but it was almost like I could see blood staining it.

With a shake of my head, I stood, placing it back on the wall, and put on my shoes.

Ten minutes later, I stomped out of the bedroom and did a little circle in front of him. “This work?”

“It will.” His eyes devoured me. “I believe you'll do just fine. Remember, no talking.”

“At all?”

“To the patients.”

“Patients.” I froze. “Like real patients.”

“No, dead ones.”

I laughed.

He didn't.

“Let's go.” His jaw made a clicking noise as he clenched it and led me toward the door. “We don't want to be late for our first appointment.”

~Downtown Seattle~

~Six hours later~

~“Do you repent?” The air crackled with excitement as the knife flickered in the moonlight streaming through the windows. “Answer me!”~

~But she couldn't—answer at least, her muscles were completely useless thanks to the drugs in her system.~

~“No?” The knife sliced through the air. “Shall I help you repent?”~

~A lone tear trailed down the woman's cheek, mixing with the blood from the cut in her lip.~

~“Fine.” The knife met skin.~

~It pierced.~

~The blood was red. Pure.~

~And all was right in the world once more.~