The sun rays were caressing Mila's face once again, forcing her to open her eyes.
She didn't know how late it was but she felt much better that morning. Three days had passed since her attempt to escape. The fever was gone and the wounds were not hurting anymore. They were healing quite well. If something, there were just going to be some scars. Additional scars... Different scars...
Different... That was a good word to describe her days there. Almost two weeks had passed since she arrived in that strange place. At that point, she was certain nobody would come for her. What she was uncertain about, was why she was still alive.
Angel and Michael had left the day before, letting her alone with him. She didn't see much of him though. The woman that gave her the keys was back. She was bringing her meals but she was not talking at all. It was quite obvious she was scared out of her mind of him.
I have to talk to him. This has to stop. What is on his damn mind?
He wasn't much of a talker and when he did talk, it was not to explain anything.
What does he imagine? That I will just stand and watch my life getting ruined when it just started getting better?
She showered, got dressed, and braided her hair. Another thing that she noticed that had changed, was the fact that they didn't lock the door anymore. Any door.
Is Erik that confident I can't escape him?
She walked down the hall. Down the hall, that was where Angel said Erik's room was.
The last conversation they had before he left had been halfway funny, halfway strange.
He came to her room and told her they were going away for a week or two and that Erik was staying. When he noticed her expression he assured her that Erik was not going to hurt her.
"He's a good one. If I didn't have Michael, I would totally hit that," he said laughing and winking. Then he hugged her and whispered into her ear "I mean it. You should do that." His tone was ambiguous enough to keep her wondering if he actually meant that.
She took a deep breath and knocked. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing.
He is probably not here.
Still, she pressed the door handle. Surprisingly, the door was not locked. As if an invisible force was driving her, she entered.
The room was slightly bigger than hers, incorporating office space and a lounge area. Same as hers, this room had one glass wall that was framing a beautiful picture, a snow-covered mountain peaking from behind the woods. The mist and the sun that morning made the view so beautiful Mila stared at it astonished.
The rest of the room matched the house: minimal, dark, sleek, and elegant. On a shelf, she saw a few framed photographs.
She stepped closer, still somehow not in control of her actions. Curiosity killed the cat in the end...
All the photos were black and white and seemed really old. One of them showed Erik together with Michael in military uniforms, and another pictured him and a beautiful woman with big bright eyes. He was looking at her with nothing less than pure adoration.
The bed was big and draped in black silk sheets that were tousled wildly.
He must have woken up recently.
Mila gasped silently when she saw a laptop on the desk that was placed in front of the glass wall.
It was running, displaying a constantly changing diagram. That meant two things for Mila: that the computer was probably connected to the internet, meaning a possible escape route, and that the owner might be around after all.
In a matter of seconds, her suspicions were confirmed as she heard the bathroom door open and Erik appeared wearing only a towel around his hips.
Mila's jaw dropped. She was caught more than red-handed.
"Yes...?" he said, with a smug grin on his face as he noticed Mila's surprised mimic and her gaze on his body.
She couldn't look away, just watched hypnotized, how the waterdrops dripped lazily down his chiseled torso. Her eyes were glued to him, to the shimmer water gave his golden skin adorned with black and red ink lines, to the curves of his oh-so-defined muscles but most of all to the scars scattered all over his upper body.
Mila counted... One, two, three... Seven scars that looked like gunshots and three broad lines signaling that there had been deep, life-threatening cuts.
What happened to him? And how on earth did he survive so many injuries?
"If you want something, Milena, you have to say it. I cannot read minds, but if you don't, I will have to make a wild guess," said Erik continuing to smirk.
"I, I want to talk... to you," she said breathing heavily, her eyes still pinned to his body, not daring to look him in the eyes.
"Well, I need a minute. Can you step into the hallway, please? I will be right with you. Unless you want to watch. Do you mind?" The tone of his voice sounded amused.
"Yes... I mean no. I mean yes, hallway... I will wait there."
I am a complete moron.
Mila was scolding herself while exiting the room and exhaled only after the door was closed.
Erik stepped out a few minutes later wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. Mila felt a bit disappointed even though it came hard for her to admit that. The was a part of her that would have liked to watch a bit longer the majestically drawn tattoo that spread from the middle of his chest to his left arm and shoulder, together with all those defined muscles that disturbed her. Then she lifted her gaze. It was the first time Mila actually looked at his face.
His hair was thick and dark, still damp from the shower, and cropped short, emphasizing his features: an utterly masculine jawline, a fine straight nose, and soft lips. The lips were the only thing that seemed soft about him because his gaze certainly wasn't. Still, he had beautiful eyes, of a deep green framed by long dark lashes.
He is... ravishingly handsome. Mila hatted to admit it but it was true.
Snap out of it, Mila. It does not matter if the guy that will kill you anytime soon is hot or not; you are going to die just the same.
"Come," he said and led her downstairs to the living room which was flooded with light at that time of the day.
Erik took a seat on the gray velvet sofa and gestured to her to do the same. Mila sat down in the furthest corner possible.
"You wanted to talk," said Erik.
"Yes. I want to leave."
"We already had this discussion and you know that is not possible."
"You are insane! How long am I supposed to stay here?"
"Till at least September."
"You must be kidding me. I don't care what you are thinking, but I am leaving," said Mila irritated.
"Well Milena, even if by any chance you get past me, you have seen what's out there."
She did and collected a few more scars on her body but she was too irritated to be objective.
"I don't care if I die. I will anyway anytime soon; better to be done with it. If that is true, what do you want me to do for ten fucking months here? Walk up and down the room? I will go insane. I have a family that needs money and I had a job that I have likely lost now. You fucked up my life anyway so better come up with a solution because this ain't it. If you don't, I will do so."
Erik just studied her without saying anything.
"Well, I actually don't care about your problems or your wishes. I only care about you not dying and I will do what I have for that not to happen, with or without your consent."
"You are insane, an awful human being, and the biggest prick I ever met," said Mila enraged, not thinking or caring about consequences.
"Good. I don't really care about your opinion. I didn't ask for any of this; it just is how it is. Believe me, I am one of the better options. I swear the others would have been way worse and the consequences for a lifetime not only a few months. Now go to your room and stay put unless you want me to carry you there and tie you to the bed."
"I dare you," said Mila looking him dead in the eyes.
She could have sworn they lit up for an instant. Then he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and packed her over his shoulder carrying her up the stairs to her room. He only stopped when he put her down on the bed. And then there was a tiny smile that appeared on his lips when he exited the room.
Mila cried and punched the pillow in frustration for hours. When her tears dried out she went out on the terrace. It was chilly and it started to snow. She looked at the woods and mountains, then down the railing. The distance to the frozen ground was around nine or ten meters. She could jump. If she was lucky, nothing would happen; if not, she might break a leg or an arm, or get a head injury. Maybe it would be bad enough to be brought to a hospital and that meant new opportunities. She could also die.
She put a leg over the railing and then the other. Cold mountain wind was whipping her face. A solitary tear fell over her face. She couldn't stop the thoughts. They came like an avalanche, some related some not, but all having a common denominator, the misery in her life.
There were too few happy moments... Too few and countless of desperation and pain. Life just doesn't seem worth it sometimes.
She closed her eyes and jumped, pressing her teeth together preparing for the pain.
The only things that came were two granite arms grabbing her before hitting the ground and the angriest look she had ever seen in her life when she opened her eyes.
"What were you thinking?!" hissed Erik.
"Let me go!" screamed Mila with tears in her eyes.
"You bet I won't do that. You don't get to do that; you don't get to die. If I can't, neither can you. You hear me, girl?"
As much as she tried, Mila couldn't understand the things she saw in his eyes or the meaning of his words. The feelings seemed so foreign and misfitted they couldn't be anything other than an illusion. Maybe not for the right reasons, but he seemed to care. It had been a long time since somebody cared.
Mila cried in frustration again as she hammered her fist on his back while he was carrying her. After a while, they started to hurt but he seemed to not feel anything.
The fuck is he made of? Steel?
She was not surprised when he threw her on the bed for the second time that day, but she was more than surprised when he sat down on the chaise longue near the bed.
"What are you doing?" she asked irritated.
"I am preparing myself for an uncomfortable night," answered Erik sarcastically.
"You are not going to stay here."
"I am. You have proven to not be trustworthy, so you cannot be left alone. Angel and Michael are going to be back in three days, till then you better get used to it." His tone was serious and after he stood there for an hour Mila acknowledged that he was meaning it.
She sighed exasperated, stood up from the bed, and headed to the bathroom.
His eyes were following her.
"Wanna join me here too?" she said, rolling her eyes.
To her surprise, he smirked when he heard that question.
"No, I will wait for you to beg me to join."
"Uhu... You need hella patience for that," said Mila sarcastically.
"I have ... Decades of training," he said, lifting an eyebrow at the thought.
"How old would that make you?" asked Mila in a bored voice. She was, however, a tiny bit curious.
"Too old for you, girl."
"You don't look that old."
"What can I say, I have very special genes." He smiled again for himself.
He is strange. But I guess when he is joking around he ain't that creepy. I'd say I prefer that.
It felt a bit strange to take her clothes off and get into the shower that evening, knowing he was so close by. She recalled unwillingly the images from that morning.
He is kind of handsome... Creepy as fuck, a bit crazy seemingly, annoying... but handsome. I am sure Dasha would fancy him. Dasha. I wonder how she is. She will think I left her..."
That one thought made her incredibly sad and even more annoyed with the situation.
She showered drifting away in her thoughts but moments later, in bed, with Erik lurking somewhere in the dark, sleep just wouldn't come. Understandable. The situation was beyond strange.
"I can't sleep like this," she said irritated.
"Try harder."
"Asshole," mumbled Mila and turned in the sheets.
"You brought it upon yourself."
After some minutes Mila decided she just couldn't sleep.
"Talk to me," said Mila in the end, exasperated.
Silence. Then a light sigh.
"About?"
"What do you do for a living? I saw you were actually working something, as in non-mafia activity," said Mila remembering the charts on his laptop.
There was no answer for some time, then another sigh.
"Day trading." Erik's voice was not that irritated anymore.
"Oh. I did not expect that. Are you good?"
"Quite good I would say." She could sense a cocky grin in his voice.
"Are you some sort of wolf of wall street?" asked Mila with a sarcastic undertone.
She heard Erik surprisingly chuckle in the dark.
"Yeah... I think that would be a pretty good description."
Mila closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come.
"How about you? Do you like being a nurse?"
Liking... Mila never gave it much thought; it was the best career she could have with her resources.
" I... Sometimes. I like helping people and eliminating pain. When I was younger I hoped to become a doctor, but it would have been too hard, and too expensive... I couldn't afford it."
"There is always a way."
His slightly arrogant tone rubbed her the wrong way.
"It doesn't look like you have any idea how it has been for me growing up," said Mila irritated.
"If you want something dearly and badly, you fight for it."
"You are a spoiled, arrogant prick that knows nothing about me, and I don't really care about your opinion," hissed Mila and hid her head under the pillow.
"That might be true, but in life, you can rely only on one thing with certainty. Yourself."
She did not reply after that. Neither did he.
Mila fell asleep in the end and dreamed of city lights, music playing a wild rhythm, and an equally wild crowd dancing to it. Two girls emerged from the crowd smiling seductively at her.
"What do you desire, milord?" whispered one of them in Mila's ear.
"Distraction. I want to forget myself for a moment."
Forget myself...