I’m this close to banging my head against a wall the next morning when the lock unbolts. I rush out of the kitchen to see Lev walking in, shuffling his feet uncertainly as his gaze veers around the room.
“Lev!” He jumps in place. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He’s wringing his hands and avoiding my eyes. I inch a little closer. “I’m sorry I’ve invaded your basement again.”
He nods like he’s agreeing with me. “Can I stay here?”
“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”
He just continues to stand there, swinging his hands. “Can we… do something together?”
As crappy as I’m feeling right now, those words warm me up. He didn’t come here for the basement; he came here to see me.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He blushes happily and, of course, his go-to is to the video game corner. I follow him there and we drop down in our usual spots. Lev on the carpet on the floor, and me on the sofa just behind him.
“My friend’s husband plays video games a lot, too,” I mention as Lev puts in his username. I’m pretty sure he’s not listening to me but I talk anyway. “I’ll bet he’s been roped into wedding planning now because I’ve gone MIA on…”
I trail as the screen catches my attention—and a conversation box pops up on the side. Lev minimizes it right away, but it’s got me thinking.
Elle used to complain about how Liam would stay up late chatting with all his gamer friends online. If Lev has a conversation box feature here, then that means he’s hooked up to the internet. Which means…
I have a lifeline to the outside world.
I slip down onto the carpet beside Lev. He stiffens, looking at me as though I might bite at any moment. I move a bit further away from him for comfort’s sake and give him a reassuring smile. “Do you have any online friends you talk to?” I ask, gesturing over to the conversation feature.
Lev shrugs.
“Could you show me how to use it?”
He nods and proceeds to tell me how it works in a rapid-fire monotone. My heart beats faster as he explains. It’s simple, straightforward, totally doable. This plan of mine might just hold water. I just have to wait until Lev goes back upstairs and hope to God that Uri isn’t paying that close attention to the cameras down here.
As long as I’m fully dressed, I figure I’ll be fine.
Now, all I have to do is get a message to Liam.
Help me get out of here.
39
ALYSSA
Saturday turns into Sunday.
Lev has been a no-show today, which means there’s nothing to distract from my thoughts, which means they’re furiously circling around Uri, because of course they are. It starts with rage and slides into longing that quickly turns back into rage.
Long story short, I’m a freaking mess.
And I have no idea what to do about it.
That’s the thing: you can know something intellectually and you can feel something emotionally and, more often than not, those two things are in direct conflict with each other.
I know that Uri’s bad for me. I know he’s dangerous and selfish and he’s probably using me for his own purposes. I shouldn’t care what he does or how he lives as long as I can be free.
But I can’t help but feel destroyed inside any time I so much as think of him upstairs with another woman.
Surely that has to be the reason I’m banished to the basement on weekends, right? I mean, why else would he want me out of sight, out of mind? He’s trying to hide me from his legion of booty calls.
I’m not proud of that extremely petty thought. I’m not even mad at the faceless women he’s probably devouring as I pace the basement in angry circles. I’m mad at him for being more than just a brutish thug. And I’m mad at myself for letting myself feel this way about him.
I’m getting worked up into one hell of a fervor when the basement door opens. I whip around wondering who I’m gonna have to deal with. I’ve already got settings geared up for each face.
Svetlana: polite reservedness.
Lev: maternal friendliness.
Uri: fire and brimstone and a pitchfork, if I can get my hands on one.
When I see who it is, I crank up the heat and bust out the sulfur and horns. Until I see the package in Uri’s hands with a familiar logo on the front.
“Is that Kenny’s Shakes and Bakes?”
He walks it over to the coffee table in the sitting area and sets it down. “You mentioned a few days ago that you love their lemon meringue pie and their opera cakes, so I got you a couple of each.”
I squint at him, refusing to let go of my anger. “You’re bribing me.”
“No,” he answers coolly. “I just thought you’d enjoy them.”
“Right. Because you’re just so thoughtful like that.”
He tucks his hands into his pockets. “Why do I feel like I walked into a cage match?”
“Maybe because you’ve got me locked in a cage!” I snap. “I appreciate the sweets, but I’d rather be able to go upstairs.”
Uri’s face flatlines. “Not today. Tomorrow.”
The curiosity is gnawing at me. No, scratch that—it’s the insecurity that’s gnawing at me. Maybe that’s why I’m not willing to let him out of this basement until I get some answers.
“Your girlfriend doesn’t know about the prisoner you’re hiding down here, huh? Probably ruins the whole romantic vibe you’re trying to concoct.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re looking for a fight, Alyssa, but I’m not biting.”
I grit my teeth. He’s right; I am looking for a fight. I’m looking for a reason to believe he still cares about me. Just one tiny hint. It’s pathetic but I can’t turn off my feelings and right now, they’re shouting a hell of a lot louder than my sense of reason.
“Just go. I’m done looking at your face.”
Uri’s eyes blaze and his eyebrows arrow downward. “That’s not how this works. I tell you what to do, narushitel. Not the other way around.”
I scoff. “What’s the problem? You should be chomping at the bit to go back upstairs to the latest whore you’ve got stashed up there.”
“You’re really in need of an endorphin rush today, aren’t you?”
“What I really need is my freedom!”
“Which you’ll lose the moment I let you out of my sight. Along with your life.”
“Right. Because there are big bad men who are out to get me? Please. Do you think I was born yesterday? There are no bad men. There’s just you and you want to keep me here.”
I’m starting to crack through his restraint. I can see that in the clench of his jaw and his white knuckles. “Why would I want to keep you here?”
I shrug aggressively. “To use me, to control me, to fuck me whenever the urge strikes. You get off on this, don’t you? You fucking love it.”
He walks towards me and my body erupts in tingles. Not the usual response when you’re smack dab in the middle of a fight. But nothing about this is “usual.”