Chapter 7 Control yourself

What I thought would be a night at a luxurious hotel's penthouse suite turned into two nights. Milo hadn't contacted me, and Boris claimed he was too busy, and I couldn't bother him.

I was going crazy with anxiety.

Not to mention, Zoya was looking for me. She had called five times and texted me a lot. I wanted desperately to talk to her, but I knew she would sense something was wrong.

I didn't want her involved in whatever was happening between Milo and me when I didn't understand what was happening either.

I knew he wanted sexual favors from me, but he didn't seem all that eager to claim me. Most perverts who bought women didn't waste a second tasting what they bought. But not Milo.

He was taking his sweet time. I couldn't believe it had been almost a week since he threatened to take my father's life. Since then, nothing had changed.

"There's someone here to see you," Boris said as he came into the kitchen.

I was there whipping up something to eat. As it turned out, I could get anything I wanted just by telling Boris to get it for me. He was at my beck and call. If I wanted anything, he sent someone for it.

Freedom was the only thing he wouldn't give me. "Who is it?" I asked, hoping it was Milo so I could tell him I didn't want to stay in his penthouse any longer. I wasn't a caged bird.

Boris stepped aside, and a gorgeous woman came into view. Her blonde hair was in a low tight bun, without a hair out of place, and her blue eyes were as sharp as a knife. She had on flawless makeup and a bold dark red lip.

She was in a white pantsuit that looked properly ironed, and it fit her perfectly and showed off her curves-or lack of. She had the body and face of a model-the body every woman wanted to have.

"My name is Irina. I'm Milo's assistant."

Yeah, right.

My heart sank, and jealousy hit me.

There was no way a gorgeous woman like her worked for a man like Milo and nothing happened between them. If I were a man, I would want to have sex with her too. She was stunning.

"Hi..." I said awkwardly and wiped my hands on the sweatpants Boris had gotten for me to greet her, but she refused to shake my hand.

Instead, Irina sized me up in utter disgust. You could tell that she didn't like me and she had no plans of being friends with me.

She walked toward me with her 4-inch heels and handed me a document. The words 'NDA' were written in bold on top of it.

"What's this?" I asked, even though I knew. I needed her to say it.

She rolled her eyes and pointed at the words 'NDA' with her perfectly manicured fingers. I bet her hands were soft, unlike mine. I had spent most of my life working; my hands were proof of the struggles I had overcome.

"Why do I have to sign this? Where is Milo?" I asked for the millionth time. No one told me.

"He needs assurance that you won't tell anyone what goes on in his life or the agreement between the both of you. This is necessary. You either sign it, or you go back to your miserable poor life in the slums."

Irina said her words with so much confidence that I wondered why she felt the need to talk to me like that. Her words may have been cutting but true. It was obvious she was judging me because of my background.

Just like Milo did when I dated Ivan two years ago.

I didn't like confrontation, so I didn't call her out on how she spoke to me. Zoya said my soft nature made people walk all over me. But I wasn't like her. I didn't know how to stand up for myself.

I read the document and decided it was good enough to sign. Even without Milo reminding me what would happen to my father if I didn't obey him, his words still hung over my head.

"Do you have any other clothes apart from those things you're wearing?" she asked. For the second time, she looked at me like I was dirt on her shoe.

"No..."

"Take this dress," she said as she removed a dress from her white bag and handed it to me.

"Why do I have to wear this?" I asked with furrowed eyebrows. I was comfortable in my sweats and tank top.

"We're going shopping. You didn't think you were staying here without any clothes, did you?"

"But I'm not staying here permanently. This is only temporary until Milo comes back."

She and Boris shared a look, and he shook his head. I hated what they were doing. I was right there in the room with them. If they had something to say, they should have said it to my face.

"Just put on the dress and come with me. Milo will not be happy if we don't do what he says."

I crossed my arms against my chest. I was feeling defiant. I loved being in control of my life. As an addiction, my mother's disappearance, and not having enough money to go to college, I liked knowing I was in control.

With Milo, it felt like I had no choice. I did what he wanted and waited for an outcome. His actions took me back to the moment when I first found my father overdosed in his bed when I was ten years old.

I was helpless then, and I'm helpless now.

"Well, he can come and explain to me what is happening here. I'm not going shopping with you."

Irina had expensive taste. The dress she handed me was a Chanel number. How was I going to pay Milo back if he spent thousands of dollars on me?

It was dirty money-mafia money.

Irina laughed.

"Do you know what happened to the last girl he was with?" she asked. She was the second person to allude to something bad happening to Milo's previous lovers.

I gulped and looked away for a moment. I refused to let him have control of my body. He wasn't going to control anything else.

"I don't care. I'm late for work anyway," I said and turned to Boris. "Take me to the club. My shift is almost starting."

Irina grabbed my hand and glared.

"You want to go back to work? Do you know how many women would kill to be with a man like Milo? God, he's hot, rich, and dominant. Are you fucking stupid?" she asked.

She sounded like she was one of the women who would 'kill' to be in my place.

"Let me go."

When she did, I walked out, with Boris behind me. Irina talked about Milo being every woman's dream, but she didn't understand.

If she was in my place, she wouldn't want to be caught between father and son. Ivan's text from last night indicated he wouldn't be happy if he found out what his father and I were about to do.

I hadn't slept with Milo yet, but I already felt like I had betrayed someone.

For the millionth time, I asked myself: what the fuck did Ivan want from me, and why now?