Page 15 of Captured Obsession

Her face pales, and I can see the fear in her expression.

She’s scared.

Of me.

She doesn't ask any further questions, just quietly grazes from the food offered, the bottle of open champagne beside her remaining untouched.

I eat silently, reminding myself that she’s just a job, my prey, and I can’t allow myself to be distracted, no matter how beautiful or witty she is.

7

SIENNA

As we drive along the winding cliffs, I can't help but admire the view. In the distance, I notice small fishing boats. I spot homes with orange tiled roofs that suggests we could be in any number of countries, but I’m assuming we’re somewhere in southern Europe or near the Mediterranean. Regardless, I can almost guarantee we’re far from any touristy areas. It's unnerving as to how few cars we pass.

I briefly glance at Nikolai. He wears dark-tinted sunglasses, but I can still make out his eyes from this angle. One of his hands casually rests on the gearshift, his wrist wrapped with a bracelet made of jade beads. I wonder who gave him that. The fingers of his other hand are adorned with three rings, and are wrapped around the steering wheel. I can't help but look at the tattoos decorating his hands and fingers.

I huff irritably as I look away, sick of admiring my captor’s beauty. I definitely must've taken a hit to the head at some point.

Sitting in this weighted silence is driving me insane. I flick the radio on, blasting music. His head whips in my direction as he quickly switches it off.

“I don't play music while driving. I prefer the silence,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah, I can tell. And I understand now why you've chosen to kill people for a living; there's clearly no joy in your life,” I say as I turn the music back on.

He leans over once again, flicking it back off. “I like to remain sharp and vigilant at all times. You should sit with your own thoughts for a while. Who knows, maybe you'll even have an epiphany.”

I twist in my seat, purposely angling myself so my breasts squeeze together. Behind the sunglasses, his gaze drops to my chest for a split second before he looks away. I know I shouldn't be tempting fate in such a way, but I’ve always used my womanly charms to get what I want. Whether an actor, a businessman, a stranger on the street, or someone who’s part of the bratva, very few men can resist such charm.

“The only epiphany I'm having is that not only is my kidnapper a psychopath, he's also very boring. Listening to music while driving won’t kill you,” I say, defiantly switching it back on.

His jaw tics, but he doesn’t turn the music off. I try to hide my smile as I look out the window, sighing indisbelief that it's been a week since I was taken from London, and still nothing has happened.

What's even more disarming? It’s as if I’ve settled into this situation like it’s some kind of new normal. I imagine that has everything to do with the man sitting beside me. Which only makes me more perplexed. It makes no sense that despite him being a killer, I don’t fear him, even though I know I should.

I’m being held against my will, but overall, I’ve been treated like someone on a vacation. Being honest with myself, it’s given me a strange perspective on my life. Maybe I was struggling against the tide before, pretending everything was okay while internally battling the pressure to make it all right. It’s almost ridiculous that finding myself in a shitty situation like being kidnapped has allowed me some space to breathe, to think. It’s like I’m facing myself in the bottom of a well with no real understanding as to which way is up or down anymore.

And here I am, seated beside a killer who acts the gentleman trying to mask his hidden monster. And I’m indifferent to it. No, I’m almost defiant—picking a fight when once I might’ve crumbled. I don’t know if it’s because it’s Nikolai specifically who draws this out of me, or if I just don’t care anymore.

I turn the music up a little louder, trying to shut down my spiraling thoughts. Nikolai’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, but he says nothing. I look in the rearview mirror, noticing the two cars that trail us.Andrei drives the one in front. Is this how underworld groups like this work? In regimented order? Or is it because I'm in the car?

We descend the hill and come into what appears to be a small town. A few locals walk around the main street, and I gawk curiously as they go about their day.

“No one will know you here. And it's best that you know my boss owns this town and the people in it. Even if you try to escape, you won’t get far, and nobody will help you.”

My stomach sinks, my heart kicking up its pace with the thrill of nerves. How does such a group obtain such power? Is it out of fear? If someone were to try to help me, would it jeopardize their family and their safety?

Nikolai comes to a stop near the clear blue ocean, and I admire the way it glitters. I love the water. There's always been something very cleansing and refreshing about beaches and lakes, and I stare at it in admiration, wishing I could lose myself in or on it for days on end.

If I could do that during my time in the bratva’s keeping, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. I roll my eyes. Isn’t that a luxurious thought.

“Stay in the car until I come and get you,” he instructs without further explanation and then slips out of the car.

I increase the volume of the music to the point it's blaring, just to spite him. I expect him to pin me with ascathing glare, but he seems either uncaring or unaware.

I glance around the interior of the car. Maybe it's soundproof.I mean, it looks like an expensive car, and it smells of new leather.

Why am I being defiant like this when I could literally be killed because of it? Somewhere along the line, my last fucks were given.