Perfect Monster: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance (The Oligarchs)
Perfect Monster: Chapter 10

The heady rush of that kiss slowly dissipated as the hours dragged past and I was left all alone.

The novelty of the rich bunker quickly wore off.

I was very aware of being underground.

Swallowed. Buried.

The air was recycled. The place hummed constantly, even with all the appliances turned off—the air conditioning system ran all the time, bringing fresh air in and pulling old air out.

It smelled like pine needles and the bite of plastic left in the hot sun for too long.

I lounged around the living room for a while. I flipped through the TV—of course he got all the channels, why wouldn’t a bunker need absolutely everything, at least you should enjoy the apocalypse—but got tired of that. I drifted back to my room, looked at the closet, took a shower, tried on some clothes, and eventually settled into a pair of tight Lululemon Yoga Pants and a pale white Gucci crop top—about as basic as it got, but whatever. I finished the ensemble with a pair of white Crocs.

I looked absolutely fly.

So I went exploring.

The hallway was full of doors. I tried a few, but most of them were locked. I found a game room with a full bar and a pool table, a weight room that looked like it’d been used recently, and what looked like a tiny little movie theater. There was another elevator at the end of the hall, but it didn’t do anything when I pressed the call button.

All in all, it was a beautiful prison, but still a prison.

As I drifted back to the kitchen, I heard a ding in the main room. I caught Roza as she stepped into the living room, looking fresh and breezy like the last time I saw her. She practically glowed, her skin so healthy that it was practically the embodiment of Roman’s green drinks, her hair thick and lustrous, her smile bright and genuine.

She greeted me with a hug. She reminded me a lot of Winter that way.

“It’s good to see you again. I have to admit, I’m really surprised he brought you here.”

“Really? Is this like, a big deal?”

“The biggest.” She leaned in, waggled her eyebrows. “Roman never brings people here.”

“Come on. Really?”

“It’s his private residence. His Fortress of Solitude.”

“More like a creepy bomb shelter.”

“That too.” She grinned and slipped her hand through my arm. She clutched a phone and a file folder in the other. “Seriously, this is really cool, having you around. Normally I’m stuck with Erick and all the other macho meathead idiots for company, and they can get kind of boring.”

“Erick’s his bodyguard, right?”

“Bodyguard, fixer, best friend, all of the above. He’s real spooky, but he’s a good guy.”

“Spooky, how?”

She led me over to the couches that were artfully arranged in front of a fireplace, sat me down, then walked over and pressed some switches next to the mantel. The flames leapt to life and crackled pleasantly as she fiddled with a dial, adjusting them until it was perfect.

“Oh, the usual. All of Roman’s people are a little creepy. I think he does it on purpose, you know? Cultivates a little bit of danger and mystique.”

“What about you? Are you creepy?”

She laughed lightly, tossed her hair. “Girl, I’m the creepiest of them all. Now, can we talk about what you’re wearing?”

I grinned, gestured down at myself. “Something wrong?”

“You look like a 90s disaster. But it actually kind of works, so good for you.”

“I feel like a beautiful princess.” I hesitated and glanced back at the kitchen table. I could feel his lips against mine still. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“That’s what I’m here for. Ask away.”

“He keeps calling me something.” I cleared my throat, already embarrassed. “Kukolka? I think I’m mangling it. That’s Russian, right?”

Her grin was absolutely vicious. I felt like burrowing into the leather and living the rest of my life as a mole person. A couch mole person.

“You really want to know what it means?”

“Yes, please. Don’t make me feel even more awkward.”

“It’s Russian for ‘little doll.’ It’s actually a term of endearment. Sort of intense though.”

I sighed and leaned my head back and stared up at the ceiling.

My little doll. That’s what he kept calling me.

Oh god, what the hell did I get myself into?

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Does it? Because I’m way out of my depth here. Like I said, Roman never, ever brings anyone to this place. And he sure as hell doesn’t call women kukolka. You sure he didn’t say something else?”

“I’m very sure. He wouldn’t tell me what it meant.”

“Figures. He likes to be mysterious, that one.” Roza sat down on the couch next to me, leaving a polite cushion between us, and cleared her throat. She sat with perfect posture, like a beauty queen on stage. “So, I’m not just here for pleasure, although believe me, I’m very happy you’re here.”

“What’s wrong?” I felt a little pit of dread open up. “He’s not kicking me out already, is he? I can’t do another car ride.”

“No, of course not. But I do need you to sign something for me.” She opened the folder and turned it around. The contract was printed in tiny little letters and was exactly eight pages long, front and back.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a standard non-disclosure agreement. Basically it says that if you ever mention this place to anyone, ever, for any reason, he will kill you.” She grinned and winked. “In court, of course. But really, he ‘ll probably kill you in real life too. I insist on the legal stuff. Covers all the bases, you know?”

I groaned. “Is it bad if I mentioned him already? Sort of, anyway, not exactly. To my best friend.”

“How much detail did you give her?”

“Not much.”

“Then try and keep it on the downlow from here on out.” She flipped to the last page, shoved a pen at me. “Sign.”

“Does he know you’re doing this?” I took the pen and hesitated.”

“Oh, god no, not at all. He’d probably drown me in the bath if he found out, but I’ve been protecting Roman for a long time now, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. So please, write your name on the damn line and stop asking so many questions.”

I stared at her and my heart skipped a beat. She looked back at me with a sharp, hard edge. Her happy attitude was gone, replaced by a knife-sharp gaze and the threat of something bad beneath her otherwise pristine exterior.

I liked her a lot, but man, she was scary.

I signed my name.

“Great, now one more.” She slipped the paper up a bit and showed off another several signature lines. Roman’s name was scrawled in a tight script next to Roza’s own loopy signature on top of the line marked witness.

I frowned at her and hesitated, my pen lingering above the line for my name. “What’s this one?” I couldn’t see anything above the signatures.

“Sign the paper, Cassie.” Roza’s voice was dead and dagger sharp.

My heart skipped a beat. God, she was scary when she wanted to be. I didn’t have much of a choice in this situation—I needed Roman’s protection, and if signing some kind of NDA or contract or whatever this was would keep me alive for a little bit longer, I had to play along.

Write my name or end up dead.

Not such a hard choice, really.

I could still hear the gunshot that ripped the night to pieces. Dia’s body slumped on the ground, her pretty hair splayed out around the crown of blood that leaked through the wooden slats.

I signed.

“Fantastic!” Roza perked up as she flipped the folder shut and took the pen back. “Glad that’s out of the way. God, I hate business. So okay, let’s get going, he’s waiting for you.”

“He’s what?”

Roza got to her feet. “Don’t mention the NDA, it’ll only piss him off.” She walked back toward the elevator. “And seriously, just get in the pool. He’ll like that.”

“Pool?” I got up and followed her. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” Roza grinned at me, pressed the elevator call button, and stepped back as the doors opened. “This place is absolutely massive. Like completely bonkers. You’ll probably never see it all, but maybe one day. Anyway, let’s get going.”

She stepped into the elevator.

I hesitated. “Where are you taking me?”

“Down.” She patted the wall. “Get in, kukolka.” She grinned at me.

My cheeks were definitely a five as I stepped inside, turned to face the door, and stood there awkwardly and silently as we descended further into Roman’s bunker of nightmares, or pleasure, or both, I wasn’t really sure yet.