Chapter 9 The morning light creeps through the curtains in the dining room, softening the edges of a world that still feels too sharp around me. I've lived at Rik's house for a week, but it doesn't feel like home. A new phone and computer appeared on the evening of my first day here. After Rik taught me not to disrespect him in front of his men. He probably has spyware on both, but I still used my computer to research both Rik and Danyl, and their businesses. Rik and I sit at the table, a sleek slab of dark wood, with two steaming mugs and a spread of croissants, sliced fruit, and a small dish of jam between us. The table feels like a gulf, wide and uncertain, although he sits only a few feet away. I have my own suite of rooms here, complete with an office and a living room with a huge TV and every streaming service you could think of. I hardly ever see him during the day, but I spend every night in his bed. Sometimes he fucks me with the same frenzy he did at the hotel. Sometimes he just holds me. I can't figure him out. This breakfast is the most time we've spent together since he bent me over his desk. Pushing my food around the plate, I can't find my appetite. The silence sits between us, heavy with unspoken words and questions too sharp to voice outright. Eventually, I break. "Why did you want me?" I ask quietly. "Was it just to get leverage over my uncle?" My voice shakes, as if voicing my worry might actually make it true. I look at Rik carefully, my eyes searching, desperate for a reaction. The coldness I expect doesn't come. Instead, he leans back slightly in his chair and studies me with those mesmerizing green eyes, lightened by sunlight. "Perl," he says, voice warm but serious, "I wanted your uncle in my pocket, but I could have accomplished that with just money." He leans forward. "As soon as I saw you, I craved you." I raise an eyebrow. "You wanted to fuck me." "Yes," he says. "I wanted your body, but also your mind, your soul, everything." For a moment, I'm caught off guard. A flicker of hope warms something deep in me, but it's tangled up with the fear lurking just beneath the surface. This man who claimed me, owns me, wants all of me, not just the easy parts? "Why me?" I ask, voice uncertain, fingers tightening around the edge of my plate. He stretches a hand across the table, his fingers brushing my wrist lightly, a gesture slow and careful. "I saw how your family treated you, but I also saw your defiance. You don't give in, even when everything tells you to." "I gave into you," I whisper, staring down at the table. He nudges my chin up with the edge of his knuckle. "That's different. You know you belong to me. Just like I knew when I first saw you." His gaze holds mine steady and sure, like a promise. My breath catches, heart pounding, and something inside me warms and softens. I didn't imagine the strong connection on that first night when we met. But there's still so many questions. "What do you actually do, Rik?" I ask hesitantly. "Why can't I leave the house? Why are there armed men at the entry and in the hallways?" His face darkens, shadows pulling at the corners of his eyes. "I run the Bratva," he says plainly. "The Russian mafia." The words knock into me like a fist, and yet somehow I'm not as surprised as I should be. As I researched his many businesses, the suspicion was there, in the back of my mind. "You're a criminal," I say, almost under my breath. He shrugs, like it's the simplest truth in the world. "And your uncle, the senator? He's a politician. Tell me, Perl, how different is that?" I blink, incredulous. "What do you mean?" He leans forward, hands flat on the table now, voice low and steady. "Politics and organized crime. They aren't as far apart as you think. Both take what they want. Both use power, fear, and influence to get their way. The only difference is the tools they choose. Different weapons, same game." His words blur the edges of everything I thought I knew. "Tell me more," I say, voice trembling with a reluctant fascination. "How does it work?" It's a challenge. I want to know if he'll let me in or if he'll treat me like my uncle always do. Someone useful, but not someone to be trusted with details. Rik's eyes flash with something that reminds me of pride. "There are many facets. Businesses pay us for protection, but also for corporate espionage. We have earnings from shipping, import-export, real estate. Recently, we ventured into cryptocurrency. It's hard to trace and perfect for moving sums across borders quietly. Then there are the cash businesses, restaurants, bars, nightclubs. They help us launder money. You can't move millions through banks without raising alarms, so we mix the dirty cash with the clean to make it disappear." His steadiness forces me to swallow the shock again. "Does my aunt and uncle know?" Rik laughs. "Those two don't care about where they money comes from. They only see what they want to see, a wealthy entrepreneur who support their campaign." He leans back in the chair. "Now that you know the truth. What do you see when you look at me?" "Danger," I whisper honestly. "But... also strength. Freedom, maybe? Or the illusion of it." He smiles, slow and knowing. "Money and power are freedom. Remember we talked about being free before, outside the restaurant." I nod, overwhelmed yet craving the raw truth between us. "I envy you both. Actually all three. Freedom is something I've yearned for all my life." Rik frowns. "But you have that now." "How?" "You're with me." "But that's your money and your power, not mine." He laughs. "It's ours." He leans forward and gently taps my forehead. "Don't you know that knowledge is power? I bet your smart brain has mapped out the entire political landscape of this city and knows everyone's secrets." Before I can reply, his phone buzzes sharply. The smile fades, and his eyes darken. "I have to go." He stands and brushes a gentle kiss over my temple, soft and firm, a promise and a tether. "I'll be back soon." I watch him go, the dining room suddenly vast and quiet. Minutes later, the door opens again and Danyl steps inside. He surveys me with quiet amusement and gestures to the breakfast spread. "Breakfast not to your liking?" he settles into a chair next to mine without invitation. "I feel like one of those women," I confess, voice strained. "Lavished with gifts and finery, shielded in luxury... but still a prisoner. I have no control over my life." Danyl smiles at that, but not unkindly. "There are many people who would love to be in your situation." "I recognize that," I sigh. "I get the privilege I have, but I also crave freedom. The power to do what I want." "Power is strange," he says quietly. "You think the wealth and gifts are chains. But once you understand Rik, how much influence he holds, you'll realize a different truth." "What truth?" "That Rik is out of control when it comes to you. Remember how he acted when he crashed your dinner with Connor." I stare at him in disbelief. "Yeah. Cold and domineering." "No, out of his head with jealousy." Danyl shakes his head. "You're his weakness. The one thing he can't be without. He'll sacrifice everything for you." I wave a hand in the air. "He does fine without me. I barely see him." "And yet he spends every night with you. Because he craves you, needs you. He can't control himself around you. And that's something every powerful man fears." A moment of silence passes. The city hums faintly beyond the windows. I breathe out slowly, heart shifting. "No longer just the kept woman," I murmur. Danyl smiles. "If Rik is the most powerful man in the city and you are the woman to whom he wants to give everything, what does that make you?" Possibilities stir awake inside me. "Even more powerful," I whisper. I am more than a prisoner. I am a player in the game. And maybe, just maybe, I can own the board. After years of devotedly caring for her family, she was met with relentless ingratitude from her husband and son—who even brazenly vowed to form a "real family" with a glamorous actress. Heartbroken b...