Days passed, and my captivity became a routine. Predictably, I would wake in Maxim’s bed, alone. Then a maid who wouldn’t even make eye contact or say hello would bring me my food. Clothes would appear, brand-new and laundered, at the door. And I would be left alone to pace, think, sleep, or try to read the one worn paperback that was printed back in the eighties.
Once again, I was stuck in a rut.
Every day was the same.
Exactly the same.
Yet, this wasn’t at all like the life I had been so used to. I wasn’t nearly existing and trying my hardest to stay afloat. With every day and night that went by and I remained in captivity, I was given a chance to recover.
For the first time in my life, I was pampered. No noisy neighbors were blaring their music or letting their toddler shriek. Not a single noise bothered me here, nothing to keep me awake and chronically sleep-deprived.
I wasn’t sweating in bed and aggravated by the lack of air-conditioning that made me wonder if I was in hell.
I had no schedule that forced me to get up and go into work at a job I didn’t want. There was no pressure to dance at Stanley’s every single night of the week like a desperate beggar for every dollar bill that I could get my hands on.
I was fed with free food that I didn’t have to ask for. I didn’t have to cook or deal with the mental load of grocery shopping and budgeting.
For the very first time in my life, for these two weeks after Maxim showed up in my life again, all of my basic needs were met. It was bliss.
Yet not.
Anything this good couldn’t last, and while I embraced the chance to not wear myself out, I knew there had to be a catch. I spent too much time wondering what it was and when I’d realize it.
Keeping track of the days seemed pointless because after two weeks of being Maxim’s captive, I had to seriously debate an answer for one simple question.
Why would I ever want this to stop?
Why would I ever want to leave?
I had faced such a hard life as an orphan, then a mistreated woman, and I had fought for the most fundamental necessities of life for so long that this was like a vacation I could have only ever dreamed of.
I winced as I paced. No, that’s wrong.
I knew that Maxim’s keeping me here against my wishes was wrong.
He had captured me like a ruthless, lawless criminal.
He had kidnapped me. There was no way to sugarcoat that truth.
Kidnapping was a bad thing and nothing would ever change that.
Yet, every time that I lay awake and thought back to the circumstances that brought me to this position, I couldn’t deny how grateful I was. I was thankful. He had saved me. He killed an abusive, horrible man who wanted to hurt me.
That was a good thing. I ever wished anyone ill or wanted anyone dead, but in that context, Maxim had done a good thing to save me the way he had.
“Okay, if he hadn’t killed him or brought me here, where would I be?” Whispering that to myself was practice to keep my voice alive.
“Easy,” I answered myself, pacing again. “I’d be back at the club and Lenny would still be harassing me.”
I was too biased to think too hard on whether I was forgiving Maxim’s actions in terms of the end justifying the means. But I had to remind myself to keep this in perspective. No, I didn’t want to struggle and be under Lenny’s abuse, but I also didn’t want Maxim to control my life and keep me captive.
So long as I didn’t lose sight of my independence, relaxation started to feel like a trick.
It is a trick.
He’s manipulating you.
I knew he was because he never answered me why he chose me and why he was keeping me. On that principle, I refused to lower my guard all the way.
Something wasn’t adding up.
I couldn’t be compromised to think that this peaceful solitude was good.
Being fed and cared for and left alone to just rest was all part of the deception.
He wanted me to be at ease.
But why?
Deep, down in my heart, I knew that I had to be right about avoiding Mafia men.
It wasn’t foolish of me to refuse to be controlled by a man.
But I didn’t know why he picked me to keep.
Why, Maxim? Why do you want to keep me here?
That was all he was doing, too. He kept me here in his room, like a princess locked away out of sight from the world. He didn’t come to sleep with me. He didn’t come to touch me at all. With my stubborn silent treatment, he didn’t come to ask me questions more than to see if I needed or wanted anything, both of which I turned away and refused to acknowledge.
This silent treatment was the only power that I had anymore. Refusing to answer his questions or say anything at all was the only means where I could have control over my life.
The longer I stuck with silence, though, the more it dragged on me about what I was keeping silent about.
I had yet to tell him that I was pregnant with his baby.
I wasn’t saying anything at all, but holding that fact as a secret felt like such a big boulder obligation.
“How would I tell him?” I muttered aloud, pacing just to stay active. No matter which way I considered this issue, I struggled with figuring out if and when I would ever let him know he would be a father.
If I could get the hell out of here, I could run away and not have to tell him.
His act of kidnapping me didn’t fill me with a lot of hope that he wouldn’t be controlling of our child as well.
Besides, how could I want a killer to be the father of my child?
Despite how comfortable and well taken care of I felt under his captivity, this wasn’t freedom. It wasn’t a fate I would want my child to experience. Even in these early days of pregnancy, I was committed to making sure this son or daughter of mine had a better chance at a good life than I ever had.
How?
I was captive and without options. And every day, I grew more anxious about not telling him about the baby.
Keeping it a secret was the only leverage I had. This baby was all I had. That and debt.
After two weeks of not going to my apartment, I was certain that it was gone. Regardless of whether it had been raided the night before Maxim kidnapped me, there was nothing there that couldn’t be replaced. New tenants were probably moving in already, all my ruined things tossed to the trash.
My job had to be gone too. I had no clue what happened to Lenny’s body or if anyone had seen what Maxim did, but not showing up for two weeks guaranteed that I no longer had a spot on the stage.
Which meant I had no money, only debt that seemed impossible to conquer.
I had no home.
I had a secret baby and a Mafia boss who captured me.
I blew out a deep sigh at the odds stacked against me. I was a jokester, thinking I could give my baby a good life when I couldn’t manage that for myself.
It didn’t take long for me to tire of the solitude like this.
I had never cared to be an extrovert and have a lot of fun with others. By the nature of my rough childhood, I was more of an introvert in the sense that I had to be a survivor, no matter what. Letting people get close was a risk, so I ended up turning into an introvert as I matured.
But not speaking to anyone for two weeks felt like a weird form of torture.
Not seeing anyone for two weeks was strange.
At first, I enjoyed it. My tired body forced me to accept it. I napped and I ate and I lounged. I had never been much of a reader but I picked at the musty, ancient bodice-ripper that seemed so out of place in Maxim’s masculine room.
With all that idleness, though, Maxim stayed forefront in my mind.
When my mind wandered back to him over and over, I tried to figure out why.
Why me?
He didn’t seem too interested in what I explained about the dancers being taken and sold. His moral compass was already skewed, but he didn’t react to the news about what other criminals and Mafia men might’ve been doing.
Maybe his family didn’t do that.
Maybe the Ivanov family chose to ruin people’s lives in other ways.
Come on. Is he really ruining my life like this?
I hated to question myself like that. It was so tempting to believe that he couldn’t be that bad.
That maybe he was a good guy and was simply misunderstood.
He had saved me that night from those creeps at the party.
He did make me feel very good when we had fucked in that private room.
And he did kill Lenny for me, sparing me from more abuse.
I shook my head, stubborn.
He can’t be a hero.
He’s a Mafia man.
He is a boss used to killing people.
Don’t let yourself be so stupid, Sloane.
Don’t be so deluded.
I owed it to this baby to protect him or her from this man who kidnapped me.
Pacing and thinking nonstop didn’t show me how to move forward. This stubborn and sullen act was all that I could do to fight back.
But this couldn’t go on forever. Now that I was rested and fed, no longer weak with the threat of passing out from exhaustion, I had to figure out a way to speak with him. I had to let him know that he was wrong to keep me here like a toy on a shelf.
He couldn’t control me forever.
I frowned at the door as I approached the comfiest armchair.
You can’t stay away forever, either.
I sat, dejected about the fact that he didn’t visit me often. When he did, it felt more like he was just checking in to make sure that his pet was still alive in its cage.
That night, he did.
Long since finished with my dinner tray and trying to read that out-of-date historical romance, I lifted my head at the sound of the door opening.
He was returning late in the night, and I tensed up at him.
Fuck you, Maxim.
I had become a pro at chanting it in my mind since I was determined to remain silent.
He entered the room and closed the door behind him, appearing impassive as ever to my glare.
This wasn’t any different from what he did before. He was consistent about keeping me sheltered from anyone else in this big house. Aside from the maid, who never said a word, I had no idea how many people were in this building, where it was, or anything else about my location. I could only guess that the first night I was here, he hadn’t taken me too far since I was still in my stripper costume.
But then, something else happened.
I froze, bracing myself.
He didn’t stroll leisurely by the door as he’d sigh then ask if I wanted anything or needed anything.
Tonight, he locked his intense focus on me.
He approached me directly, striding across the room.
Alarmed by his attention on me, I stood up from the chair. The yellowed paperback fell from my hands, but I dismissed the slight impact of it dropping onto my bare feet.
With his hungry gaze honed in on me, I swallowed hard and felt too exposed, too vulnerable.
Too… weak.
Tilting my head to the side, I rounded the chair to keep it between us as he stalked confidently after his prey.
Me.
I was his prey.
I was his toy.
His captive.
And I had no clue what else he wanted from me as he reached for the knot of his tie and tugged at it.
Oh, fuck.
This time, I was silent because I had no damn idea what to say.
