Chapter Three: Tomorrow
Isa didn't even know how she'd ended up here. One minute she was wandering through a dark Moscow alley, heart hammering after the murder scene; the next she'd been bundled into a black car, blindfolded, and dropped into a luxurious bedroom that didn't feel like a hotel at all.
Now she sat upright on the edge of a huge bed, knees hugged to her chest. The room smelled faintly of clean soap and expensive cologne. Her mind replayed the image of the man from the alley, tall, broad-shouldered, eyes like liquid steel, the same man who had ordered someone's death with a single glance.
She didn't realise she'd drifted off, half sitting, until the soft click of the door made her snap awake.
Footsteps.
Heavy, measured footsteps crossed the polished wooden floor. Her eyes flew to the door just in time to see him walk in.
It was him.
The man from the alley walked straight into the room like he owned it. His hair was damp, a few strands falling over his forehead. Without looking at her he moved to the closet, pulling out a folded piece of clothing
pyjamas.
Isa's heart lurched. Her hands gripped the sheets as he walked toward the bathroom attached to the room. The door shut. A second later, the sound of rushing water filled the air.
She should run. She should do something. But her legs wouldn't move.
She sat frozen, staring at the bathroom door until it swung open again.
And then her breath caught.
He stepped out, a towel slung loosely around his neck, only wearing pyjama pants. Droplets of water slid down his chest and abs, glistening under the dim light. His skin was bronzed, muscles defined, every line of him radiating danger and power.
Her eyes betrayed her; they followed the trail of water dripping down his stomach. For a heartbeat she was completely entranced.
A soft cough snapped her out of it.
She jerked her gaze up. He was staring at her now, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he wiped his hair with the towel.
"What… what are you going to do to me?" she blurted, voice trembling despite herself.
He didn't stop drying his hair. His eyes flickered to hers, cold but amused. In low, accented English he said, "We will talk about that when morning comes. I want to sleep."
Sleep?
He walked to the other side of the bed, flipped the blanket and climbed in as if nothing was wrong.
Panic shot through Isa. "What are you doing?!" she squeaked, scrambling to the far edge of the mattress.
"Sleeping," he said simply without opening his eyes.
"I… I know that! But if you're sleeping here then where do I sleep?" she whispered, voice small.
He finally cracked one eye open, his accent thicker when he spoke slowly. "You seem to forget that this is my room. You're not a guest here, you're a captive."
The words hit her like ice water.
"Before you say another word," he continued, closing his eyes again, "fix yourself anywhere you deem fit. After tonight I'll settle the issue with you. I advise you to have a good sleep. You'll need enough rest for tomorrow."
And just like that, he turned his back to her, ignoring her completely, the steady rise and fall of his breathing filling the silence.
Isa sat there for a long time, shaking. Her heart was still racing but her brain was working. Floor or bed? The carpet looked soft, but the marble underneath was cold. He hadn't threatened to hurt her now. He just said… tomorrow.
She swallowed hard. Whatever tomorrow was, she needed her strength.
Slowly, as quietly as she could, she inched toward the other end of the bed, keeping as much distance between them as humanly possible. Her fingers clutched the blanket. She lay stiff as a board, barely breathing.
His back was still to her.
She stared at the ceiling, mind a storm of questions. Who was he really? What would he do to her? How was she supposed to sleep knowing the man who had killed someone was lying just a few inches away?
But exhaustion won. Her eyes grew heavy.
The last thought she had before darkness took her was simple: she wasn't stupid enough to sleep on the floor when there was a free bed space.
Tomorrow… whatever it was… she'd survive it.