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My Malyshka

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Chapter four: The devil’s Bargain

...Dimitri ...

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

The silence between them stretched like a wire pulled taut.

Dimitri stood there, his thumb still grazing Ella's jaw, and he felt something he hadn't felt in years.

Uncertainty.

She should have begged. Should have cried. Should have done what every other captive had done before her—pleaded for mercy, offered information, promised anything to survive.

But she hadn't.

She'd looked him in the eye and dared him to kill her.

And that—that infuriated him.

"You're not afraid of me," he said, his voice low.

Ella's lips curved—a ghost of a smile. "Oh, I'm terrified. But I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of watching me break."

Dimitri's jaw tightened.

He should have admired her spine. Should have respected her defiance. Instead, it made him want to crack it open and see what was inside.

He stepped back, putting distance between them. The absence of her warmth—of that ridiculous vanilla scent—should have been a relief. It wasn't.

"Get your things," he said. "You're coming with me."

Ella blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." He turned toward the door. "You're not staying here. I have a more... comfortable location for you."

Her eyes widened—and for the first time, he saw real fear flicker across her face.

"Where?"

"Somewhere you can't run. Somewhere I can keep an eye on you." He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze cold. "You're my guest now, little engineer. And I'm a very attentive host."

Ella's hands curled into fists at her sides. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Did I give you a choice?"

He watched her struggle—the war between defiance and self-preservation playing out across her features. She was smart. She had to know resistance was useless.

But she was also stubborn.

"I won't make this easy for you," she said. "I'll fight. I'll scream. I'll—"

"Scream all you want." He smiled—a thin, predatory expression. "No one will hear you. And I'll enjoy watching you exhaust yourself."

Something flickered in her eyes. Hatred. Fear. And something else—something he couldn't quite name.

She grabbed her bag—a worn canvas thing—and slung it over her shoulder. Her movements were stiff, angry. She didn't look at him.

"Fine," she bit out. "But I'm not your hostage. I'm your prisoner. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"You'll learn."

Dimitri almost smiled again.

She has teeth, he thought. Sharp ones.

He liked it.

He didn't want to like it.

But he did.

---

...Ella...

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

The walk to his car felt like a death march.

Ella's legs trembled beneath her, but she forced herself to walk tall. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her stumble. Wouldn't let him see how badly her hands were shaking.

His men flanked them—silent, watchful, dressed in black. They didn't look at her. Didn't speak. They were ghosts, shadows, extensions of the monster who led them.

Dimitri opened the back door of a sleek black sedan. "Get in."

Ella stared at the open door. At the dark interior. At the leather seats that probably cost more than her entire apartment.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked again.

"You'll find out when we get there."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

She hated him. Hated his calm, his control, the way he looked at her like she was an insect he hadn't decided whether to crush.

But she got in.

Because she had no choice.

This isn't surrender, she told herself. This is strategy. You're gathering information. You're biding your time.

You're surviving.

Dimitri slid in beside her, his massive frame filling the space. He was so close she could smell him—sandalwood and citrus, warm and sharp. She pressed herself against the door, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

The car pulled away.

The construction site disappeared behind them. The trailer. The blueprints. Her car.

Everything she'd known.

Ella stared out the window, watching the city blur past. Rain streaked the glass. The sky was grey and heavy, mirroring her mood.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dimitri said suddenly.

She turned to look at him. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"I don't hurt innocents."

"Really?" She laughed—a bitter, broken sound. "Then what do you call this? Kidnapping? False imprisonment? Because last I checked, those aren't exactly legal."

"I call it leverage."

"I call it terrorism."

He studied her for a moment. "You're very vocal for someone in your position."

"Am I supposed to be quiet? Meek? Grateful?" She shook her head. "I don't do grateful. Especially not to men who take me against my will."

Dimitri's lips twitched. "You're unusual."

"I'm angry. There's a difference."

"Maybe." He leaned back, his gaze still on her. "But anger won't save you. And neither will defiance. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be."

Ella turned back to the window.

I'd rather die than make it easy for you.

She didn't say it out loud. But she thought it.

And she meant it.

---

...Dimitri...

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

He watched her.

He couldn't help it.

She was so small, pressed against the door like she could disappear through it. Her curls were a wild mess around her face, her glasses slightly askew. She'd wrapped her arms around herself, a defensive gesture that made her look younger than twenty-three.

She's not your enemy, a voice whispered. She's a victim. Just like you were.

He crushed the thought.

She was Kovak's daughter. That was all that mattered.

"She doesn't know," Maya had said. "She didn't choose her father."

But Dimitri didn't care.

Because if he let himself care—if he let himself see Ella as anything other than a tool—he'd lose his edge. And his edge was the only thing keeping him alive.

"Where's your mother?" he asked suddenly.

Ella stiffened. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

"Then you can stay curious."

He should have been angry. Should have punished her for the defiance.

Instead, he felt something unwelcome: admiration.

"You're loyal to her," he said. "Your mother."

"Of course I am. She's the only parent who ever loved me." Ella's voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it.

My father left us when I was fifteen. He chose everything except us. She said this part to her self.

Dimitri was silent for a moment.

He knew what it was like to be abandoned by a father.

He knew what it was like to watch the man who should have protected you destroy everything you loved.

"There's more to your father than you know," he said finally.

Ella turned to look at him. Her brown eyes were dark with something—curiosity? Fear? "Like what?"

Dimitri held her gaze. "Like the fact that he sold my mother's location to my father's enemies. Like the fact that he smiled while I was dragged and tortured by my father,Like the fact that he laughed at her funeral. And far worser things you wouldn’t want to know about"

He watched the color drain from her face.

"That's not true," she whispered. "He's a lot of things, but he wouldn't—" .

Deep down she knew he might have, Terence was a snake.

"He would. And he did." Dimitri leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Your father is a monster, little engineer. The only difference between him and me is that I don't pretend to be anything else."

Ella's hands were shaking. He could see it.

But she didn't look away.

"If that's true," she said, her voice barely audible, "then why are you telling me?"

Dimitri paused.

Why am I telling her?

He didn't know.

Maybe because he wanted her to see. Wanted her to understand that her father wasn't the victim here. That she'd been raised by a man who deserved everything that was coming to him.

Or maybe—

Maybe he just wanted her to know him.

The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

"Because I want you to understand," he said, leaning back. "Your father's sins are his own. But you're going to pay for them. Just like I paid for mine."

Ella stared at him.

And in her eyes—

Pity.

She pitied him.

Dimitri's blood went cold.

How dare she.

"Don't look at me like that," he growled.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm something to be pitied."

She held his gaze. "I'm not pitying you. I'm sorry for you. There's a difference."

"The hell it is."

"No. Pity is for people who are helpless. Sorry is for people who had the chance to be something else and chose wrong." Her voice was soft, but it cut deeper than any blade. "You could have been different. You could have broken the cycle. But you didn't. You became him."

Dimitri's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

She flinched but didn't cry out.

"Watch your tongue," he hissed. "Or I'll cut it out."

"Threats don't scare me."

"They should."

"They don't."

He stared at her—this tiny, fierce, impossible creature—and felt something shift in his chest.

What is she doing to me?

He released her wrist and turned away, staring out the window. His heart was pounding. His hands were shaking.

He was losing control.

And Dimitri Ivanov never lost control.

---

...Ella...

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

Her wrist burned where he'd grabbed her.

Ella cradled it against her chest, her pulse racing. She'd pushed him too far. She knew that. But she couldn't help it. Every time he opened his mouth, every time he looked at her like she was beneath him, something inside her snapped.

He could have killed me, she thought. He still could.

But he hadn't.

And that—that was interesting.

He'd been a monster when he'd walked into the trailer. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.

But now—

Now he looked rattled.

His jaw was tight. His hands were clenched. He was staring out the window like he was trying to disappear.

He's not what I expected, she realized. He's worse.

But he was also something else.

Something broken.

Something that had been hurt so badly he'd forgotten how to be anything other than hard.

Ella didn't know why she cared.

She shouldn't.

He was her captor. Her enemy. The man who was going to use her to destroy her father.

But she couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said.

He sold my mother's location. He smiled while I was dragged to a camp. He laughed at her funeral.

Her father.

The man who'd abandoned her. The man who'd chosen his mistress over his family. The man who'd made her mother cry for years.

He'd done those things.

And Ella—

Ella believed it.

Because she knew her father. Knew what he was capable of. Knew that the man who'd raised her had been a stranger wearing a kind face.

What am I going to do?

She didn't know.

But she knew one thing: she wasn't going to let Dimitri Ivanov break her.

She'd survived her father.

She'd survive him too.

The car pulled through a set of iron gates, and Ella's breath caught.

The mansion was massive—a sprawling estate of dark stone and gothic architecture, surrounded by gardens that had long since died. It looked like something out of a nightmare. A prison for a monster.

"Is this where you live?" she asked, her voice flat.

"Yes."

"It's... bleak."

Dimitri glanced at her. "I'm not running a bed and breakfast."

"Good. Because the décor is awful."

His lips twitched. "Are you always this annoying?"

"Only when I'm being kidnapped."

He didn't respond to that. But she saw it—the almost-smile. The crack in the ice.

And she filed it away.

He's not invincible, she thought. He's not untouchable.

And if I'm going to survive, I need to remember that.

The car stopped. The door opened.

And Ella stepped into the lion's den.

---

...Dimitri...

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

He watched her walk into his home.

She was small, defiant, trembling despite her bravado. Her curls were wild, her glasses crooked, and she'd wrapped her arms around herself like she was trying to hold herself together.

She looked like she belonged.

Dimitri shook the thought away.

"She'll be in the east wing," he said to Alexei. "Guards at every exit. No one talks to her. No one touches her."

"And if she tries to escape?"

Dimitri paused.

He thought about her eyes. Her defiance. The way she'd looked at him like she could see straight through his walls.

"She won't," he said finally. "Not yet."

"How do you know?"

Because she's smarter than that, he thought. Because she's waiting. Biding her time.

Because she's not done with me.

"She's a survivor," he said out loud. "And survivors know when to wait."

He walked into the mansion.