Convinced by her best friend Jade, Isabella Cameron ends up in a situation that she thought she'd never find herself in. She gets dressed up and dragged to what is supposed to be a fancy night club, but little does she know she's walked in a den ful...
It's been five hours since we left New York and no matter how many times I try to fall asleep I can't. I just can't seem to get comfortable. I wiggle and twist and turn to try and find a suitable position to sleep in but I can't. So I give up.
"Part of the reason you can seem to get comfortable is because you've got on that uncomfortable piece of fabric you call a dress." He says insulting my or well Jades wardrobe decision.
"I don't mean to be rude but if you would've just taken me home I could've changed into something more suitable." I say while trying to pull down the dress a little more.
"Get up and follow me." He says next while walking towards the back of the plane. I quickly get up and follow him and I'm practically running trying to keep up with his long strides.
He leads me to a bedroom that is so beautifully decorated that it make me feel like I'm on a space ship. Its so pretty and aesthetically pleasing that I instantly fall in love with the design.
He walks over to a suitcase before unzipping it and handing me what I assume is one of his shirts.
"Change into these." He says and goes to sit in the chair located in the corner of the room. He looks away for me to change which is greatly appreciated being how nervous he makes me, so I quickly change into what he's given me.
"I'm finished." I say before tucking my hair behind my ear.
"Come here kitska." He says beckoning me over to him. I walk over to him and he grabs my arm and pulls me down onto his lap and wraps his arms around my waist.
"Can I ask you a question?" I ask while sitting there twiddling my thumbs like an idiot.
"You just did, but go ahead and ask." He replies back and I can hear the sass in the snarky tone of his voice.
"What does it mean? The word you keep calling me."
"In Russian, kitska means kitten." He chuckles.
"Oh well I have another question to ask you." All of a sudden I'm nervous and I can feel my body stiffen. "Why- why did you kill that man? That's illegal. That's murder."
Anyone who had senses could feel the mood in the room change and he answers my questions, "he stole from me...he lied to me and in my book those are crimes of betrayal punishable by death. I won't show mercy to someone who would stoop so low and become something as disgusting as a thief and a liar."
"But don't you feel bad about taking away someone's life like that, I mean if you just-," he cuts me off before I can finish.
"Enough. We will not discuss this any further." He says and I don't speak again because I can feel the anger radiating off of him.
He pushes me off his lap and starts to walk back to the front of the plane and I realize that he's not just angry, he's specifically angry with me. Regret washes over me and I wish I hadn't asked about it in the first place.
I can tell that he obviously wants to be alone, but something possesses me to follow him anyway.
What's wrong with me? Why am I trying to make up with this guy? He's a murderer! He kidnapped me and still I feel an urge to get to know him. Am I developing Stockholm Syndrome? Is that what's happening?
At this point I honestly don't know what's happening. I have entirely too much on my mind but I want to talk to him so that him being angry with me will be one less thing.
He's returned to his seat up front when I get there, but the book remains untouched. I've knocked him off focus.
"I'm sorry for asking Nikolai. I won't bring it up again." I whisper. All the confidence I had when speaking to him earlier gone out the window.
"You are correct, you will not bring it up again. What I do is none of your concern and therefore you will not speak on my affairs again unless instructed to do otherwise. Now if that is all, go back to the bed there are at-least four more hours of the flight." He says quick and swiftly. He doesn't even look at me when he's speaking like he did before and because I don't want to cause anymore trouble I obey his orders and head back to the room.
Even though it was only minutes ago that I was so eager to sleep I can't seem to bring myself to do so. And so for the next four hours of the flight I lay there in bed staring at the roof of the plane contemplating whats to come. I should be scared. I should be cautious. But I'm not.
Although I'll probably miss some things about having freedom in a extremely weird way I find myself looking forward to what's next.
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