Three: Hostage.

Sophia’s POV

“Hey! English brat!”

I heard someone say. I probably fell asleep after breakfast.

“Hey! Wake up!” A male voice called out again, words harsh and thick with an unmistakable Russian accent.

I turned to the door, where Maxim stood, giving me an unpleasant and cruel look.

Dazed and disoriented from sleep, I sit up slowly on the narrow bed. Staring blankly at him.

He walks to the bed, shaking me vigorously in an attempt to wake me up fully.

What the hell?

“What now you fucking piece of shit! If you are going to keep me hostage, you should at least have the decency to let me sleep!” I yelled, frustration evident in my voice.

From the little conversations I overheard outside my tiny holding cell, it was clear Maxim is in charge of the other guards and a big arsehole.

“Watch your mouth, brat!” he barked out, grabbing my hair. The searing pain shot through me.

“You are just another prisoner, and you'll do as I say. You should know you don't have a say here by now!”

“Get your filthy and lowly hands off me,” I'm fuming with rage by now, he treats me like garbage and this morning, I wasn't having it.

He says nothing, instead, he drags me by my hair. Leading me through the corridor. He stopped just in front of an unfamiliar guard.

“Snimite naruchniki I obyazatel'no okhranyayte dver', poka ona moyetsya,” Maxim said to him, I was too busy struggling against his grip on my hair to understand what he said to the other guard.

The other guard (whose name I don't know) reaches into his pocket to take out a key, he unlocks the handcuff on my wrists.

Maxim releases his grip on my hair, pushing me towards a door, “You are to go in there and take a shower, no funny games, don't even think about running.”

Wait, what? I finally get to shower?

The thought of cleaning myself seemed like an unexpected luxury.

I've been here for almost two weeks now if my calculations are correct, and I haven’t been allowed to shower once. I have been wearing the same outfit for weeks, I'm smelly and uncomfortable.

Before I could say anything or ask questions, I was shoved into a tiny bathroom with only a shower, toilet, and wash sink which contained a bar soap, shampoo, a big towel, toothpaste, and a new toothbrush.

I quickly brushed my teeth and stepped under the shower. The water felt refreshingly warm as I finally washed myself in weeks. After drying my body, I slip back into my clothes.

I mean, these are the only options I have.

Stepping out, I find the guard by the door waiting to cuff my wrists again.

“Who is your employer? I have been asking for days now. Why am I here and what am I here for?” I asked while he cuffed me. He says nothing, just pushing me back towards the small room I sleep in.

“You don't speak or understand English?”

“Pochemu ya zdes'? kto tvoy boss?” [Why am I here? Who is your boss?]

“Move!” He shoved me into the room, locking it on the outside.

As I lay down on the narrow, hard bed my mind wandered to Daisy. She must have gone back to London by now, it's been two weeks already. What if she thinks I'm dead?

Would Dad be looking for me?

Who would want to kidnap me?

I still don't get why I'm being held hostage. Probably for ransom? Or… to be used as a sex slave?

No.

My stomach turned at the thought of that.

I need to come up with a plan to escape and I need to do that fast.

A weird-looking sandwich that equally tastes bad and a cup of water. This was all I was being fed every day, once a day since I got here.

I felt weak and dizzy most times, it was becoming harder and harder to endure. I don’t even have it in me to fight with the guards anymore. I’ve also tried begging for a proper meal and they just ignored me.

As if on cue, a guard comes in with a tray of my usual meal.

I let out a frustrated groan, “Can you at least give me actual food? These are hardly enough to get me through the day”

His piercing gaze lingers on me for a few seconds, a cruel reminder of my vulnerability and he storms out.

The next morning, I woke up with a terrible headache, it was almost too painful to blink my eyes. I couldn’t fall asleep to help my situation and even if I could, a guard would probably interrupt my sleep with my usual luxurious breakfast.

I guess a pretty bad headache doesn’t stop me from being sarcastic.

Just then, the door to my holding cell opened and I came face-to-face with a new face. A woman to be precise, her brown eyes glimmered with concern and kindness.

My eyes dropped to her hands, she was holding a tray, and in it was a bottle of juice, and a covered plate of food. I could smell pasta and by God, I was drooling already.

“Hello, Miss,” she walked towards me, settling the tray of food beside me. “Your breakfast. I was asked to bring it to you.”

I eye her warily, “Who are you? I haven't seen you before.”

She looked at me, her expression kind and soft. “I am Mila, the housekeeper. I was asked by the master of the house to bring these to you. I work at the main house, that is why you haven't seen me until now.”

“Okay, but why bring me a meal now?” I pressed curiously.

“My master just came back from a business trip, I don't know much, he just asked me to feed you properly,” she explained.

So many questions ran through my head. “I didn't know there were any other women here. Are you working here on your own will? Like you weren't bought, kidnapped, or something?” I probed further as my scepticism deepened.

Mila laughed a little, “No dear, I'm here willingly. I've been working for him for years now. The master has always been good to me and takes care of me and my family”. She assured me.

I scoffed, “Someone who possibly kidnapped a person can never be good,” I rolled my eyes and that made me wince in pain. “As you said, he's back now, right?”

She nods.

“Who is he? Your master, I mean. Do you have any idea why he's doing this to me?”

“Miss, I–”

The door swings open and a pissed-off-looking Maxim walks in.

“Alright! Playtime is over!” he crossed his arms, turning his gaze to Mila. “You know the boss is going to be furious about this chit-chatting with the prisoner”

Mila frowned. “I was about to leave, Maxim.”

Mila gave me a sympathetic look as she turned to leave, with Maxim right behind her, leaving me once again in the cold isolation of my cell. The encounter, though brief, left me with more questions than answers.

At least I knew why I'd never seen the mastermind behind my predicament. Would he come here? Would that be unlikely? Apparently, I'm even in a different room from the main house. Great.

An hour or two later, the door to my cell opened. I didn't bother turning my face to the door, I was exhausted and sleepy. Usually, after breakfast, no one comes in here, at least not that often.

“Sophia Smith.”

The voice sent shivers from my head to my toes, causing goosebumps to break out on my skin. It was not like the other guards’ voices, there were no accents, and the voice was dominant and smooth.

I'm certain, I have heard this voice before.

I've never sat up so fast in my life. Turning to the door, I'm met with the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen, midnight blue eyes, the kind that looks almost black at certain angles, long black hair tied in a man bun, a straight nose, and a strong square jaw graced with dark stubble.

Wait… my vision sharpened, it's like my eyes were finally catching up with my brain.

Realisation dawns on me. I had my suspicion but brushed it off. I had convinced myself there was no reason he'd be involved in this. And I was so wrong because the man in front of me was none other than…

Ivan fucking Kozlov.