Page 50 of The Harbinger
Katya sat on the vanity chair, her gaze low and her brows knitted. “I didn’t think he would,” she said.
“Are you scared of him?”
Her eyes met mine with an indiscernible shadow tormenting her. “He’s good to us. But that doesn’t mean you should take his kindness for granted.”
It was the same feeling I’d had since being here, and with each interaction, he’d instilled that feeling deep down inside of me. Sacha sat like the king on a chessboard—even though he could only move one space in either direction, his next move stayed hidden away. Or maybe it was more like poker. His face was impossible to decode. You wouldn’t know what cards he held until he played them.
Either way, he was always three steps ahead, and that was a dangerous kind of man.
I swiped the towel off the hook, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped it around my dripping body. “And what does he do to those who abuse his grace?”
Katya stood, disappeared into the closet, and reemerged with a black leather quilted skirt and a black-and-white striped shirt. “He’d like you to wear these.”
She placed the outfit on the counter, along with black knee-high socks and boots. “I thought I was going to the doctor?”
“You’re going out in public with Alexander Ruslanovich. You must look your best.”
I laughed. “Like I’m arm candy?”
It would take more than nice clothes and high heels to make me look like arm candy.
My face hadn’t filled out yet, despite the constant access to food. The dark circles underneath my eyes accentuated my hollow cheeks, and the bones in my wrists protruded beneath my skin. Even three weeks later, the bruises from my captivity were still visible, their sickly yellow and green tinge rippling beneath my skin.
“No one walks around with him that doesn’t take pride in their appearance, especially the women.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes.
What kind of chauvinistic crap is that?
Skirting past Katya, I grabbed a pair of jeans and ripped a sweater off the hanger.
“What are you doing?”
“Carving my own path. If he wants to take me into public, he’ll have to get used to what I wear.”
Katya took the clothes from my hands, her face ashen. “You cannot.” Her shrill voice scraped my eardrums. “It won’t just be you who he’ll blame.”
She swallowed and hung the jeans back on the hanger I’d taken them from.
“What does that mean? Does he hurt you?”
“If he thinks I’m allowing you to rebel, he won’t allow that to go unchecked.”
She took the hanger off the rack, hung up the sweater, and then turned back to me, making me thankful I’d wrapped the towel around my chest.
“Punished?”
“Just do as you’re told,pozhaluysta. Please.”Fear pressed her lips into a fine line as she stared at me with wide eyes.
I glanced down to the bench where she’d dropped the clothes he wanted me to wear.
My shoulders sagged as I surrendered. “This isn’t right. You know that, right?”
I dropped the towel and grabbed the skirt.
She shrugged. “It’s just the way it is.”
I scoffed and slipped the skirt over my hips, followed by the button-up black-and-white striped shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to accept it. I’m only doing this because of you.”