Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
There was just one minor problem.
In every single corner there was a blinking red light.
I was being watched, and he wanted me to know.
My heart slammed against my ribs when I spotted each one.
The feeling of being hunted, of being cornered, overwhelmed me.
I wanted to curl into a ball and hide, but there was nowhere to go where his eyes wouldn't follow.
There were a million more subtle ways to install security equipment, ways that I would never have known about, and he chose to make sure I understood exactly what this was.
This wasn't an apartment.
It wasn't some type of heavy-handed apology for what happened the night before.
It wasn't even a token of affection.
Not that I thought he was capable of feeling something like that.
This was a cage.
A beautifully decorated, gilded cage from which I had no escape.
Clenching my teeth and tightening my fists, I tried to control my anger. I tried to push it down to deal with later, mostly so he didn't have surveillance photos of me crying.
The arrogant bastard would probably think they were tears of joy and gratitude.
I went into the closet after checking the corners to make sure there were no cameras there and closed the door, then let out a scream of frustration.
I wanted to shred the clothes and destroy the furniture, break every dish, every piece of crystal in that fucking kitchen.
But what was the point?
No. That wasn't a win, not for me.
If anything, a tantrum would be another point in his column. Instead, I gathered myself and took several deep breaths, pushing down my rage in the way only a woman can, before stepping out of the closet to prepare for the rest of the day.
The bathroom had a vanity that was stocked with my makeup—well, more expensive brands in the shades I usually wore.
Each detail of the apartment felt like another strand in the web he was weaving around me, trapping me further at every discovery of how deeply he had infiltrated my life.
I ignored it all and focused on getting ready for that same damn political science class, with the same asshole professor.
But it was fine. Dickish men just seemed to be my new normal.
There was nothing to worry about. I would just keep my head down, ignore the goons following me and the whispers that would likely be louder after the helicopter last night. All I had to do was be perfect, beyond reproach, and the professor would find someone new to torment.
It was fine. I would be fine. This bullshit too shall pass.
In class, the professor looked me up and down and smirked, ready to put me down to feel like a man. Class hadn't even started yet.
"Ms. Zatasevo, are we going to have the pleasure of your presence in the class much longer? Or is the rich fool with the helicopter and the need for a trophy wife going to take you from us soon?"
Deep breath in, control the rage.
Nothing good will come from lashing out at this man.
"I have no plans of leaving," I said with a sugary sweet smile, pretending his words didn't cut deep.
But they did. Because they were true—I was being collected, possessed, by a man who could decide my fate with a snap of his fingers.
The professor had no idea how right he was, and that terrified me.
The rest of the class was uneventful. There were whispers, but what else was new?
Amy also had this class, though she was assigned to a different study group. When the professor dismissed us, I tried to catch up with her, to apologize about last night, but she ran from me.
Actually ran from me.
My throat tightened as I watched her flee. My first real friend here, gone.
Artem was isolating me. I should've expected it.
Still, it hurt. I had liked Amy, even if we were really different. She made me laugh.
Another point in his column.
Fine, I wasn't going to let it ruin my degree. I wasn't here to make friends or to party.
I was here to study, to prove my worth.
When I got to the library, the table with my group was full. Their rudeness was nothing new, but I was still caught a little off guard when I started to pull up another chair and the group leader tugged it out of my hands.
"You don't need that." She snapped her gum at me. "You have been removed from the group. Permanently."
"I didn't—"
"I don't care. You aren't working with us."
"This study group is a requirement, and I was assigned."
"Well, someone unassigned you, and the rest of us are thrilled. So figure it out on your own time, stupid Russian whore."
"Excuse me?"
"You think you're hot shit because some rich asshole is fucking you," she scoffed. "He'll get tired of you soon enough and find someone of value. Cheap sluts like you might warm his bed, but a zaddy like that will never give you a ring."