The Darkness Within

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The first thing I feel upon starting to come awake is soft sheets beneath me. Then, I hear a vaguely familiar voice speaking.

Sergei's voice.

It takes a moment with my lethargic mind to tune into exactly what he's saying, and when I do, fear once again takes up residence within me.

"...Did you rest well?"

His voice is deep, with a note of teasing in it. I force my eyelids open, having to blink multiple times before the room comes into focus.

I'm in a plush, lavish bedroom, atop a king-sized bed covered in a forest-green bedspread. I don't know how long I've been out, but from how groggy I feel, it could have been more than a day. Meaning that I very might well be in a different country.

The room is large—with a three-piece furniture set in front of a roaring fireplace, a velvet-looking carpet, drapes surrounding the intricate bed post, and Sergei sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a file.

His eyes roam over my body with obvious masculine appreciation, and I realize I'm not wearing the clothes I first fell asleep in. Instead, I'm dressed in a flimsy nightgown.

I scramble underneath one of the sheets, pulling it up to my chest to cover my body—which was on display beneath the red lacey material.

Sergei lets out an amused chuckle, before his eyes drop back to the file he holds.

"Kira Roland. Twenty-four years old. 186 confirmed IQ." He flicks a glance at me, briefly gauging my reaction, before looking back to the file. My file, I realize with horror.

A complete dossier was compiled on me many years ago in the beginning of my college career by a school administrator who ran a background check, and found my childhood concerning. The only person other than the admin to have read it was judge Franco Santoro. That file holds things I intentionally keep to myself—I have no clue how Sergei even managed to get his hands on it. Him reading it is a deep violation of privacy.

More, it'll give someone with his intelligence far too much insight on me as a person, which is power he shouldn't be allowed to hold over me.

Unfortunately, I can't do anything about that at present.

"Born in Russia," he goes on, turning a page. "Adopted to America at age 2—by a family of Russian immigrants. Adoptive father abused adoptive mother. When you were nine, your mother killed your father, and then herself, all while you watched."

My throat suddenly feels impossibly dry. He's saying things I've never spoken out loud—never told another living soul. I haven't necessarily avoided or hidden them...the truth of the matter is that I simply didn't give enough of a shit to discuss them with anyone needlessly.

He flips the page again. "It says on the police report that you were sitting under the kitchen table with a blank expression when the police broke down your door to investigate a noise complaint. They thought you were in shock."

Meeting my eyes, a subtle, evil smile curls his lips. "But you weren't in shock, were you? You simply couldn't care less."

He's right. As messed up as it is, I hadn't cared. I never formed a deep enough connection to my adoptive parents for their deaths to have truly impacted me. The only reason I was hiding under the kitchen table was because my mom had commanded me to when dad started beating her again.

I remember the glint of madness in her eyes when she told me to hide. She knew this would be the night she'd kill my father—knew she'd be leaving me alone in this world. That didn't deter her from being the cause of two deaths that night.

"Finished high school at 13, got accepted to University of Denver. Got your bachelors at 16, PhD at 20. Did a 1 year residency before getting a job. Have worked nonstop since, traveling across united states to meet with and assess the most dangerous criminals ever caught. Speak ten languages." Shutting my file, he tuts and shakes his head at me. "For someone so incredibly smart, defying me in the prison was remarkably stupid."

He stands from the foot of the bed, rounding it, and takes a seat closer to me. Far too close for comfort.

Crime scene images flash in my mind as I stare at him, trying to figure out where I am, and more importantly why I'm here.

On one side of the room is a window, showing that it's dark outside—but there are no visible geographical markers that could hint as to where I might be.

Sergei answers my question before I ask. "You're in Russia."

Cold dread washes over me. Russia is owned by the mafias within it—and all the mafias are owned by Sergei Novikov. There's no way for me to get away from him when I'm in a different country, where he wields immense power.

"Why?" I ask, my voice slightly scratchy.

Sergei lifts one shoulder, a glint of malevolent delight in his eyes. "Let's just say you caught my interest. Are you not happy to be back in your home country?"

I don't respond to his question, because it's merely a taunt. I caught his interest, did I? Well, I very much doubt I'll be interesting if I don't so much as speak to him. So, I seal my lips, returning his calculating gaze with one of my own.

A ping sounds from his pocket and he pulls out his phone, brows drawing together before he stands. "I have business to take care of," he says, sparing me a brief glance. "I'll be back in a couple hours." Then, fixing me with a warning gaze, he says, "Don't try to escape, it will only irritate me. Be smart enough to understand that I own this continent, and everyone in it, you included. You already have a punishment coming for your transgression yesterday. Don't make it worse."

With that warning, he turns and strides out of the room. I hear the click of a lock sliding into place behind him.

* * *

Sergei

Dropping into the comfortable seat in my office, I let out a deep, satisfied breath. Kira, in a word, is perfect. Not only breathtakingly beautiful, but alarmingly intelligent. And, like me, she has a darkness inside of her.

That very well could be due to heritage. It only took a brief DNA test to confirm what I had already suspected—Kira has bratva blood running through her veins. Her father gave her up likely to keep her safe from the violent world he lived in. To keep her away from people like me.

I let out a low chuckle. Kira was dropped into my lap like a present from the heavens, and I don't intend to let her go. I can be patient, to an extent, while she acclimates. But with her luscious, tempting body and astoundingly sharp mind, I doubt I'll be patient for long.

I will make Kira mine. Nobody else is worthy of me—nobody else has even a remote claim on being my queen. But the position was Kira's as soon as I looked into her eyes, and recognized them.

I'm sure taming her will be a wild ride—a near impossible task—but I'm up for the challenge. She'll be well worth the wait.

A/N

Double upload because I feel like it, and am loving writing this story so far. 

60 combined votes on ch 4 and 5 (something like 30 each) for the next chapter. 10 comments on each.

Thoughts? Are we enjoying the story so far?

Stay safe

Xx

Rose