Page 72 of Trapping His Angel

There was a pause, and I narrowed my eyes at her. She giggled and kissed me softly. “Believe it or not, I love you too.”

I did. She showed me every single day. If someone told me I would’ve found love at The Academy a year ago, I would’ve laughed them out of my house. I didn’t believe love was in the cards for me. It was about who was placed in my life.

Isadora Petrov became the light in the darkness I didn’t know I needed.

She became more than just a prize; she became my everything, and I wouldn’t change any of that for the universe.

“Let me sleep, old man,” she muttered, tossing a pillow at my head.

I nipped her neck one more time, and rolled over so I could cuddle her. Life was good. The Brotherhood was at the top. We had all the leverage. Nothing could stop us. I had my lovely wife. Mymalen'kiy angel.I couldn’t be happier that I could keep her with me.

My perfect angel.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Let me out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, as I tried to kick my way out of this room.

Isadora came to speak to me and once she’d left, someone came from behind me, and slapped a hand around my mouth. I couldn’t see my attacker. They’d forced me out of the wing of the house and out the servants’ back door.

As soon as fresh air hit my skin, my attacker sank a needle into the side of my throat, and when I woke up again, I was here. In this room with no windows. There was a connected bathroom, with nothing in it other than toilet paper, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, and a towel, along with soap in the shower.

I looked beneath the cabinets and in every dresser, for a weapon, but couldn’t find one. I knew my otosama would be unhappy with me, to say the least. I was supposed to wait at The Academy, and study hard, until my family came for me, to set up an advantageous match.

However, years passed and no one came.

I adapted and learned how to survive that hell hole. I may be a virgin, but I’d received so much abusebased on my looks. I’d been fetishized, and lived in a fishbowl for all to see. My room had cameras in it, even the bathroom, so The Headmaster could share my body with the world.

He crowed on and on to the other girls about my exotic features. My dark skin, my eyes. He spoke about my pin-straight hair, which was so different from many other girls at The Academy who were my color.

Hell.

I hated everything about myself, choosing not to look in the mirror or make myself pretty. I never wore makeup and my clothes were shapeless. Not that it stopped men from pawing at me, or women from snidely treating me like shit on the bottom of their shoes.

I felt all alone.

Now, I found myself kidnapped. After being rescued from hell, it sure was a mindfuck. I looked everywhere for a way out, but there were none. After some time passed, I heard footsteps.

I pushed myself in a corner, waiting for whoever it was. I could hear a conversation happening outside of the door.

“I can feed her myself,” a growly voice said.

“But, sir-” came a woman’s shocked response.

“Leave me,” the dark voice demanded. Clearly they were in charge.

Heels took off down the hall and faded away. The doorknob turned and I held my breath. A man walked into the room. He was mildly attractive, from his side profile, and for sure, somehow related to the men who rescued me from The Academy.

He had similar features, but it was the contrasts I noticed first. Dark hair with flecks of gray, somewhere too old for me, and the worst of all of his differences were the tattoos that adorned his body. I wanted to trace the ones on his hand with my finger, while I asked what it meant to him.

That didn’t mean he was a friend. I didn’t know him. For allI knew, he was here to kill me. I glared at the tray in his hand. Maybe poison me. I could rush him, but how far would I get? I didn’t know if there were guards here, or if it was just a few servants.

I needed to plan my escape.

There was only one chance. He might kill me after. But I had to make it back to my father. If I didn’t marry well, his debt would bury him. He was the head of the Yakuza, and broke.

My okasan died giving birth to me, and my otosama never let me forget it. He said my life was owed to him. A debt repaid with blood. It hadn’t mattered that I was his only child. I’d already hurt him by taking away his soul mate.

Though many called my okasan a whore, I believed she was an amazing woman. Before I was sent away to The Academy, the house was cold, and my only memory of her was a brief kiss on my forehead.