Fiancée

He grabbed my arm and lead me off the plane towards the mini crowd.

She was stunning, in the way a poisonous flower is stunning. Her dark hair was cascading in perfect waves over one shoulder, and she wore a red dress that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her eyes, sharp and predatory, locked onto Stephan immediately.

"Mi Amor," the lady squealed, charged towards him and literally threw herself against him. Stephan had to let go of me to hold her. She had wrapped her legs against his waist and he simply supported her weight against him. Seems like they've done this a million times before with how effortlessly they melted into each other.

I took a step back to give them their breathing space.

"I was worried sick. You didn't call. You never call,” she cooed, planting kisses all over his face.

He hummed, keeping a neutral expression, and didn't return any of her gestures, but he didn't push her away either. He stood there, stoic, enduring her embrace like one endures a sudden change in weather. "Roberta. I’m fine."

Roberta pulled back, her hands lingering on the lapels of his suit jacket. "Mother is furious, you know. She’s been pacing the—" She stopped mid-sentence. Her gaze had shifted over Stephan’s shoulder, landing squarely on me. Well, that goes my plan as I remain hidden behind him

The warmth evaporated from her face instantly, replaced by a sneer of pure disdain. She looked me up and down, taking in my appearance.

"Who is this?" she asked, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. She looked back at Stephan, a laugh bubbling in her throat. "Did you pick up a stray? Or is the staff hiring standards dropping that low?"

I bristled, stepping forward. "I’m not—"

"Alina," Stephan cut in, his voice flat. "She lives here with us now."

Roberta’s perfectly manicured hands dropped from his chest. "Lives here? In the main house? Stephan, surely you’re joking. The servants' quarters are in the east wing. I can have Thiago take her there and—"

"She stays in the guest suite next to mine," Stephan said. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a decree. "Dispose of that attitude, Roberta. It doesn’t suit you."

He walked past her, brushing her shoulder as he walked towards the car. Roberta stood frozen for a second, her face flushing a deep, ugly crimson. She turned her glare on me, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"Don't get comfortable," she hissed as I passed her, her voice low so Luca wouldn’t hear. "He gets bored of his toys very quickly. And when he breaks you, I’ll be the one sweeping up the pieces."

I held her gaze, channeling every ounce of grit I had left from the streets and the strip club dressing rooms. "I’m not a toy," I whispered back. "And I don't break."

"Well, good for you," she sneered, maintaining her venomous tone. "You're going to follow the entourage in the car at the back. This one is for me and my husband alone," she stated, throwing me into shock.

Husband? He's married? 

My eyes flew towards the car. Stephan didn't say anything about being married, he wasn’t even wearing a wedding ring.

"Oh. You didn't know he was engaged? We're going to be wedded couples in a few weeks time," she continued proudly, her eyes shining with pride.

Okay. They were engaged, not married. For some reason, that made me calm down a bit even though I know it shouldn't. Fiancée's are usually very aggressive bitches.

She spun on her heels, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she sauntered towards the car where Stephan was.

I, wanting to avoid trouble at all costs, followed her orders and went with the entourage. When we got to the estate, I tried my best not to ogle at the beauty of it. The estate looked like one of the expensive estates in Manhattan.

Upon getting down from the car, I was lead to a room— my new room.

The room was magnificent, which made it all the more suffocating. The bed was large enough to sleep a family of four to comfortably sleep on, draped in silks that looked like they cost more than my entire tuition. The balcony doors opened to a view of a nearby ocean, glittering in the distance.

But I checked the locks first.

I spent the next few hours pacing. I showered, scrubbing my skin until it was raw, trying to wash away the scent of Nikolai’s cologne and the tang of fear that had clung to me since Russia. I dressed in a simple silk robe I found in the closet—everything in there was my size, a detail that was more creepy than thoughtful.

As evening fell, the shadows in the room began to stretch. My heart rate picked up. The dark was not my friend. It never had been. I went around the room, flicking on every lamp, every sconce, bathing the space in artificial light to keep the phantoms at bay.

When I was ready to eventually settle in for the night, a soft knock rapped at the door.

I jumped, clutching the lapels of the robe. "Who is it?"

"Maid service, Señorita," a timid voice replied.

I opened the door a crack. A young woman with wide, nervous eyes stood there, holding a tray of fruit and water. "Don Stephan requests your presence in his quarters. Immediately."

My stomach dropped. "Now?"

"Yes, Señorita. He… he does not like to wait."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Okay. Show me the way."

The walk down the corridor felt like a march to the gallows. The house was silent, save for the echo of our footsteps on the marble. The maid stopped in front of a massive set of mahogany doors at the end of the hall, bowed her head, and scurried away as if afraid she’d catch fire if she stayed too long.

I stood alone. My hand trembled as I reached for the brass knocker. You survived the auction, I told myself. You survived the abduction. You can survive him.

I knocked.

There was a pause, and then the door clicked open.

I prepared myself to see Stephan’s imposing figure. Instead, I was met with a wall of black lace.

Roberta stood in the doorway. She was wearing a sheer, black lingerie set that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, a silk robe hanging loosely off her elbows. Her skin was flushed, her lips swollen as if she’d just been kissed.

The smirk she gave me was triumphant.

"He’s busy," she purred, leaning against the doorframe, blocking my view of the room. "We’re in the middle of… catching up. You can go back to your cage now."

I felt a flash of heat in my cheeks—humiliation mixed with a strange, sharp pang of jealousy I refused to acknowledge. "He sent for me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"And now he’s occupied," Roberta countered, reaching for the door handle. "Run along, stray."

"Let her in."

The voice came from inside the room—deep, authoritative, and impatient.

Roberta’s smirk faltered. She froze, her hand gripping the door. She looked back over her shoulder, her expression crumbling into desperation. "Stephan, caro, surely whatever she wants can wait until morning? We were just getting started."

"I said," Stephan’s voice dropped an octave, turning darker, "let her in. And move."

Roberta let out a huff of indignation, stepping aside. I walked past her, keeping my head high, though my heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The room was vast, dominated by a king-sized bed with black sheets that were currently undisturbed. The air smelled of sweet jasmine cologne, and masculine musk.

Steps echoed from the adjacent bathroom. I turned just as Stephan walked out.

The breath hitched in my throat.

He was wet. Water droplets clung to the dark hair on his chest, trailing down the rigid definition of his abdominals. He wore only a white towel wrapped low around his hips, the fabric straining against his thighs. Steam billowed out from the bathroom behind him, wreathing him in a mist that made him look like a god stepping out of Olympus—or a demon rising from the underworld.

He didn't look at Roberta. His eyes, dark as obsidian, were locked on me.