I remain as still as a corpse under the stranger’s scrutiny.
Adrian. The stranger’s name is Adrian Volkov and I’m supposed to be his wife now.
The staff took me to a special massage room, undressed me, and placed me in a bubble bath full of roses, which is now my scent. After being the definition of trash, I currently feel like a rose plucked from a field.
And not in an I’ll go to a better place way, but in an I’ll probably wither and perish way.
The girls did all sorts of things to my body. They dyed my hair, waxed me, did my nails and my makeup. Then they put me in a straight brown dress that’s a bit bigger than my thin frame. The heels are a perfect size, although they’re uncomfortable and I can barely stand in them, let alone walk.
The entire time that they were turning me left and right, doing this and that, I felt like a doll. The type that’s played with and tossed aside once the fun is over. Already, I felt like I was losing my will.
I didn’t want to change my hair color. As hideous as it was, the blonde was something I had chosen. When I said that, the manager, who introduced herself as Emily, said she was following Mr. Volkov’s order and neither of us had a say in anything.
I chose not to make her job even harder, considering that she and the rest of her staff stayed late just for my sake. Adrian might feel normal doing that to other people, but I’m not like him. I dislike being the source of others’ discomfort—it’s a shitty place to be.
Adrian seems more and more like a sociopath, so I doubt he cares who might suffer because of his demands. As long as he gets what he wants, to hell with everyone else.
So even though Emily and her staff were attentive, I felt my skin crawling. No amount of rose baths or luxurious clothes would’ve made me feel comfortable.
It’s like I’ve been thrust into an alternate reality and have been living on thick, murky air ever since this afternoon. Ever since I was trapped in his gray eyes. Ever since I made the mistake of existing in his space. And now, I’m starting to think it’ll be impossible to find a way out.
But even if I did, where would I go? To jail?
Surely, the discomfort of being here is better than jail.
Or so I’d like to believe.
The moment I looked in the mirror after Emily and the others finished, I saw a reflection of the woman in the wedding picture Adrian showed me.
Lia.
I’d become her and a tear nearly escaped my eyes at that thought.
Is there anything crueler than erasing one’s identity? Than wiping away the essence of their being as if it never existed?
Because that’s what I feel right now as I stand in front of him. I’m not Winter in his eyes. I’m already Lia, and he intends to cement that fact into the very marrow of my bones going forward.
He won’t be able to succeed.
I’m Winter Cavanaugh and I’m living on behalf of myself and my baby girl. No one will be able to erase those facts from my head, not even a frightening man like Adrian.
Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose are on either side of him. The bulky one doesn’t look at me, but Crooked Nose stares for a second before diverting his attention to his hands that are clasped in front of him.
There’s a red bruise on his cheek that I hadn’t noticed earlier and I don’t know why I dislike the sight of it. I don’t know this man, and I’m sure that if his boss told him to execute me, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
Adrian stands, startling me from my thoughts. He’s tall, dark, and handsome while sitting. But when he stands, towering over my short frame, I feel the need to bolt out of my skin.
He motions at me with his finger to turn around. I do, my cheeks flaming with pent-up anger. I know he thinks I’m of a lower class, but does he really consider me his pet or something?
“Is it to your liking, sir?” Emily asks, hopefully, expectedly, like his approval is the bane of her existence.
He nods once as I stop, facing him. Emily grins wide as if she has just pleased the king of the jungle and he’ll throw a reward her way.
“Here’s your coat, Mrs. Volkov.” She offers it to me and I put it on, thankful that it hides the deep-cut sleeveless dress. I might have small breasts, but their curves were showing.
Adrian grabs me by the elbow and leads me to the elevators. Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose follow after us but keep a distance. Emily and the rest of her staff stand in front of the transparent glass of the elevator as a show of respect.
Adrian must be someone important if he has guards following him everywhere and staff standing by as he leaves.
I don’t think he’s a spy, but he seems more dangerous than a simple businessman. I peek a glance at him. He’s still gripping me by the elbow, his touch gentle but firm. I know because when I attempt to remove my arm, he tightens his hold, forbidding any movements.
His message is clear: I’m to go along with whatever he pleases. I signed my fate to him the moment he coerced me into this.
Or maybe it was when he first saw me and decided I’d be his wife.
When was that exactly? When he saved me from the passing van? Or was it when he asked me to clean my face as if the smudges on his wife’s lookalike features offended him? Or did he perhaps see me in the shelter and has followed me since then?
The entire time Emily and the others transformed me into Lia, I kept thinking about how he found me in the parking garage. I didn’t sense anyone following me, and I have an acute awareness of my surroundings, considering my homeless status.
Ex-homeless now.
Any of my fellow homeless people would feel flattered by this opportunity, but my stomach has been knotting in and out of itself ever since Bulky Blond grabbed me by the hood and thrust me in his boss’s direction.
When we exit the elevator, Bulky Blond hurries to the car and opens the back door. That’s when I notice Adrian is only wearing a shirt and pants. “Your coat is upstairs. Should we go get it?”
“No.”
“But it’s freezing.”
He stares at me for a beat. “Are you warm?”
“Yeah, but I’m already wearing a coat.”
“It’s fine then.” He flattens a palm at the small of my back and places his other hand on top of the car to stop my head from bumping against it as he guides me inside.
My fingers tremble and I clasp them on my lap as I’m surrounded by the smell of leather from the seats. What is this feeling? No one should be this chivalrous yet terrifyingly dangerous at the same time.
But I have to remember that he’s not seeing me right now. He’s seeing Lia in me. I don’t know why that makes me want to reach out and…what? Remove myself from her skin? Would that even be possible anymore?
As soon as Adrian joins me and the guards take their seats up front, my stomach growls. The sound is so loud that Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose freeze.
I purse my lips, but I can feel the blood rising up my cheeks. Damn it. I’ve never been embarrassed about my hunger until this very moment.
Adrian’s calm gaze slides to me, unaffected—bored, even. I wonder if he ever gets mad, then immediately push that thought out of my mind. He’s terrifying in his calm mode, and I don’t want to imagine how he is when he’s angry.
“What do you want to eat?” he asks.
“I’m okay.”
He taps an index finger against his thigh before stopping. “You’re obviously hungry. Food comes with the deal, and, therefore, you don’t have to feel self-conscious asking for it.”
That’s right. It’s one of the main reasons I agreed to this in the first place.
“Anything.” My voice is just above a whisper.
“Anything isn’t food. Pick something.”
“I don’t care as long as it’s…food.”
“What if I get you fried cockroaches?”
My nose scrunches as I stare at him.
He raises a brow at my reaction. “You said anything.”
“Not that.”
“Then specify. If you don’t express yourself, you’ll get nothing from me.”
Wow. Is he always this…infuriating?
“A sandwich,” I snap and clamp my lips shut, hoping he didn’t catch it.
If he disapproves of my tone, he says nothing and, instead, addresses Crooked Nose in a foreign language that I assume is Russian.
He looks slightly different as he speaks in it, but not exactly in a better way. More like authoritative and non-negotiable. He gives off that vibe with his subtle Russian accent, too, but it’s clearer with his mother tongue. It could be because I don’t speak the language, though.
Crooked Nose nods, then steps out. After ten minutes of utter silence, he comes back with a takeout bag. My mouth waters at the smell of hot bread and fresh vegetables. I wish Larry were here with me; he usually steals sandwiches for me and I share, but he always says he’s full. He doesn’t like me stealing alcohol, but he’s fine with stealing food. That old man has a warped sense of morality.
However, none of the sandwiches he’s brought me have ever smelled this divine. Like it’s right out of an oven.
My stomach growls again, and this time, I don’t try to hide it.
Crooked Nose hands the bag to Adrian, not me. Neither he nor Bulky Blond look in my direction.
Adrian opens the bag and hands me the sandwich. I don’t even pause to see what’s inside it. I bite straight into it, filling my mouth in one go. It melts on my tongue and I don’t properly chew before gulping it down.
I’m about to take another bite when it’s pulled from my fingers.
“W-what—” I stare incredulously at the perpetrator, Adrian, who snatched my sandwich. Please don’t tell me he bought me food just to take it away.
“Eat slower or you’ll get indigestion.” He tears off a piece and places it in front of my mouth. I try to take it from him, but he shakes his head.
I really don’t care about the method as long as I eat right now, so I open wide and let him put it in my mouth. As soon as it’s inside, I swallow it in one go.
“Slower,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “Chew first.”
It’s then I realize that we’re actually moving. I’ve been so focused on the sandwich that I lost all awareness of my surroundings.
Except for Adrian.
One way or another, he’s been present ever since I first met him. He’s a quiet force that slowly creeps under my skin and leaves me panting for more—or less. Either way, he’s there, under my skin, and it’s impossible to breathe without feeling his presence.
It’s baffling to think I’ve lived twenty-seven years and have never experienced such intensity. Such…raw, quiet display of power.
I’ve always thought those in power ensured it by brute methods, that they killed or schemed. That they were loud and barked orders—like Richard. Adrian is the complete opposite of that notion—he’s silent, calm, but exudes an authority so raw, it’s even more terrifying than those with loud power.
When Adrian gives me another piece of the sandwich, I chew, letting the spicy taste explode in my mouth. It’s rich and exquisite and might very well be the most delicious meal I’ve had in…ever.
I don’t protest as he continues to feed me, his fingers brushing against my lips with each bite. He has really masculine fingers—long, lean, and calloused enough to cause a weird sensation whenever they meet my skin—no matter how brief the contact.
He’s patient, not attempting to hurry the process, as if he has all the time in the world to feed me. He fixes me with a disapproving stare, pausing when I don’t chew long enough or when I do it fast, and that’s my cue to slow down or he’ll take my meal away.
By the time the sandwich is finished, I’m full. Not bloated like when Larry decides to go kamikaze and steal three sandwiches, but I’m full enough that I swallow the final bite with a sigh. I close my eyes to commit the taste to memory in case it’s the last delicious meal I have for months.
It would be perfect if some alcohol came with it, too. I can feel the headache starting at the back of my skull, and I can’t afford to be sober for too long.
When I open my eyes, I find Adrian watching me intently. His forefinger taps on his thigh in a quiet rhythm as if it’s participating in his observation.
I’m about to break eye contact—because it’s still as unnerving as hell—when his next gesture stops me. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
Adrian plunges his index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking on the tips that are a bit greasy from how he fed me. The way his lips wrap around his skin sends a weird sensation through me. I want it to stop, but at the same time, I don’t know if I’ll like it if it stops.
He pops his fingers out and finishes by licking his thumb before he uses a paper napkin.
I force my gaze away to stare through the window. The city’s endless buildings fly by us, but I can only see the way he thrust his fingers into his mouth as if he…was thrusting them somewhere else and—
My very inappropriate thoughts are interrupted when the car stops in front of a black metal gate that’s as tall and as high as one at a palace.
It slowly opens with a loud creak that can be heard from inside the car. Bulky Blond drives inside before it’s fully open.
I stare behind us and, sure enough, the gate is now closing.
Is this where Adrian lives?
I wasn’t exactly focused on the road on the way here, but we drove far enough to be somewhere on the outskirts of the city.
I let my gaze slide ahead, thinking that I should engrave the details in my brain in case I need to use them later. But for what and to go where? The moment that black gate closes, I feel as if I’m trapped in a labyrinth. The fact that Bulky Blond keeps driving on and on down the driveway might have something to do with it, but that’s not the only reason I feel like I’ve stepped into a place I shouldn’t have.
The only thing I can make out are shadows of trees that look like ghosts at the threshold of a rich prince’s gate, waiting to take his life for his cruelty. Wasn’t there a story like that once upon a time? A prince who refused to feed the poor was cursed by a witch to become a beast.
The car finally stops in front of a gigantic mansion.
No. It’s more like a castle from medieval times, but built in modern times.
The moon is the only light projecting down on it, and it’s barely enough since it’s partially hidden behind the clouds.
An eerie shadow falls on the dark building with its two-story architecture and its imposing size that sits on a large piece of land.
When people see a grandiose building, they either react with awe or intimidation, or both. Me, on the other hand?
I feel like fleeing.
Like I should sprint toward the black gate and climb it to escape.
Adrian and his guards get out of the car first. I’m not in a hurry. I can even spend the night here. It’s warm and the leather seats are more comfortable than anything I’ve slept on.
Adrian, however, has other plans. He opens the door and extends his palm to me. I’m tempted to refuse it, but that would only start an unwanted battle. I’m so exhausted from this day’s events, and all I want to do is crawl into a corner and sleep.
So I take his hand with a resounding sigh. He pulls me out and places a palm at the small of my back. The gesture of possessiveness, of staking his claim, doesn’t escape me, but I don’t dwell on it much either, because he’s not doing it to me.
He’s doing it to his wife.
As long as I don’t consider myself his wife and can separate reality from the role I’m playing, everything will be fine.
And most importantly, I’ll survive.
I allow him to lead me to a double metal door with a passcode bar on top. He runs his fingertip over the sensor and the door opens with a beep.
He gently pushes me ahead of him and I nearly stumble from the atrocious heels hurting my feet. Adrian wraps an arm around my waist, keeping me steady. As soon as I make sure I can stand, I attempt to wiggle away.
His presence still gives me a weird feeling. The creeps mixed with fear and…something else I’d rather not identify.
“Stop trying to push away from me, Lia.”
“I’m not Lia,” I whisper.
“Yes, you are, and you’ll start acting like it.”
“I can’t just act like another woman.”
He pauses, his finger tapping once against his thigh. “Did you just talk back to me?”
“No.” My voice is small. I really don’t want to induce his wrath right now. Or ever, for that matter.
He doesn’t seem convinced, but he says ever so calmly, “Your presence here is for one reason only—to be Lia. You’ll learn to act like it. In fact, you’ll be her.”
Yeah, right.
But I don’t voice that thought, because judging by his brief show of anger just now, that would only get me in trouble.
I expect Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose to follow us, but they don’t. The door closes behind us with a click and an automatic light comes on overhead in a vast reception area with pure white walls, dark wood flooring, and a round chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
There’s a simple white table in the middle of the floor, surrounded by cream-colored high-back chairs. A wide, sweeping staircase with white railings leads upstairs. The hall is elegant and hints at a minimalist, refined taste, but there’s something wrong.
There are no family pictures, no paintings. Nothing.
It’s as if no humans live in this house. It’s clean but impersonal.
I’m still studying my surroundings when a soft thudding sound comes from upstairs. I freeze, fingers sinking into my palm. Maybe my premonition about this house is coming true, after all, and I’ll be attacked.
But then I recognize the sound. It’s not threatening; if anything, it seems like…
My thoughts trail off when the footsteps grow nearer and a small human appears at the top of the stairs. He comes down, holding the spindles with each step, his tiny fingers wrapping around them like a vise. He looks no older than five, give or take.
There’s no doubt who the little boy is.
He’s the spitting image of Adrian with his dark hair and gray eyes. Only, his are lighter and bigger.
My suspicions are confirmed when he hops down the last two steps, yelling, “Papa!”
As he runs toward us, head focused on his feet as if not to lose sight of his steps, my heels falter. A harsh, unyielding weight pushes against my ribcage as if intending to crush the bones and pierce through my heart.
The sight of the boy brings back memories I’ve kept buried for so long.
Tiny hands and feet.
A little face.
The smell of a baby.
“Slow down, Jeremy,” Adrian says from beside me, but I’m hearing him as if I’m underwater.
The boy, Jeremy, lifts his head and stops mid-run. His huge gray eyes meet mine and they widen even more as he whispers, “Mommy…?”
I don’t know if it’s the word or the way he looks at me as he says it, like he’s found the world after he lost it, but tears I haven’t shed in too long burst from my eyes.
They stream hard and fast down my cheeks, soaking my skin and ripping a sob out of my throat.
“Lia?” Adrian grips me by my shoulders, lowering his head so he can look at my face. My vision is so blurry, I can’t see him. That’s when I realize that I’m shaking and my limbs can’t carry me anymore.
“Lia!”
“I’m not Lia,” I whisper as the darkness whisks me away.
