Page 64 of The Harbinger
The warmth and confidence in his tone shifted the walls back into place and settled my thrumming heart.
How could he be so cruel yet tender?
“Do you understand?”
“I understand, Sacha.”
“Good.” His thumb brushed my cheek before he leaned over his massive desk and spoke into the speaker. When he finished, he glanced down at me, his features stony. “Head down.”
The door slid open as I studied the hard floors, following the darkened swirls in the design as Sacha stood.
“StarshiyAlexander Ruslanovich,” a man said from the other side of the desk.
“PisetsNikolai.”
Sacha took his seat and outstretched his legs beneath his desk.
I let out a slow breath, my eyes shut.
This would be difficult, but the thought of being spanked in front of someone or just in general kept my gaze fixated on the floor.
As their conversation dragged on, I started tracing shapes into the swirls of the floor. A war between the gray and gold flecks, one filled with mystery, suspense, and magic where witches and ogres fought side-by-side against fairies and dragons. I slowly ran my nail against the gray speck, envisioning erasing the prince from existence as I waited out my childish timeout when Sacha wrapped his finger around a stray lock of my hair and tugged it gently.
My movement stopped on the imaginary battlefield.
Was I being distracting? Had I broken a rule? Was he going to lay me over his desk in front of this man and beat me?
He caressed my cheek, the warmth of his hand sending a wave of comfort through me as I nuzzled into his palm.
Did he actually care about me? Could his hardened exterior really hide the compassion within? Or was this entire situation a game to him?
His hand dropped away, and the fuzzy warmth that came with it evaporated, leaving me in turmoil. I’d become torn between the desire to fight him and the need to stay drawn in by his captivating touch. His words could be cruel one moment, then gentle and soothing the next. Against my better judgment, I wanted to stay, torn between trusting him or believing I was just a pawn in his plans.
When Nikolai left the room, my knees ached, and my toes tingled.
“You did well.”
I’d done better than expected, but the toll had been more than I bargained for. I hit the floor with a groan, stretching my aching knees as best as I could, then wiggled my toes inside my boots.
“Can I get up now?”
Sacha spun his chair around, his feet bracketing my head as he looked down at me. “I’ll tell you when.” He grasped my forearms and lifted me off the tile. His hands were calloused against my skin, the grip firm yet gentle.
I groaned as the floor pressed into my knees, and a tear trickled down my face. “I can’t stay here any longer.”
“Shhh.” He ran his thumb over my tear-stained cheek and raised my chin. “You can do it.”
“I can’t.” I yanked my chin from his grasp, using the desk to steady myself. “I’m not some puppet you can control. I did what you asked, but I’m through now.” Muscles screamed in protest at the lack of movement, and my toes tingled, yet I forced myself to stand.
His laughter engulfed me, its depths pulling me down into a dark and dismal void, and a chill ran through me.
“Mia.” He stood, his height dwarfing me and making me question my resolve to stand up to him. “You should accept that I have absolute control over you and your future.” He brushed back a strand of hair from my face. “The sooner you come to terms with that, the better your life will be.” He wound his hand around my nape and drew me close, my body quivering. “No sense in fighting. I’ve already won.”
He hadn’t won yet. How could he win something that had only just started? I could make a spectacle and shout, what then? Would his staff see through his lies?
Sacha held me against his solid chest, his arm around my waist as if he sensed my weakening knees, but I didn’t touch him. I stood rigid against him, my hands at my sides, despite the urge to drown myself in his sea of abysmal darkness.
If my memories bore any truth, I’d survived torture and starvation, but it didn’t compare to Sacha’s emotional warfare.