Snow white and The Beast

My head hurts.

I blinked against the blinding light stabbing through my skull. Too much light for someone like me. Who the fuck opened the curt—

The horror hit me like a freight train.

I was tied up. Bound like a worm on the cold, unforgiving ground. A gag stuffed in my mouth, my jaw aching from the pressure. I twisted, tried to bite, rip, or shake it loose. Useless.

Great. Another masterpiece for my father's ever-growing collection of Alexei's Disappointments.

My movements were restricted—tightly, efficiently. Someone knew what they were doing. My gaze darted around the room: rusted pipes in the corner, scattered boxes, an empty metal stand. Nothing useful. Nothing that could get me the hell out of here.

How did I even get here?

And then, the memories of last night came crashing down.

I was supposed to go home. And—the bodyguard. The new one. The one who picked me up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

I glanced down at myself. Still in last night's clothes. My baby pink shirt is now a dull, grimy mess. My hair? A disaster, without even touching it.

Sleeping on the floor. Without my satin pillow. No hair cap.

Complete and utter ruin.

Before I could injure myself from all the useless wiggling and scraping my back against whatever I could reach, the metal shelf rattled violently—then crashed to the ground beside me with a deafening thump. 

I froze.

Heavy footsteps approached. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Measured. Precise.

The door creaked open.

"You're up already."

The man stepped inside, unbothered. A black wife beater clung to his broad frame, grey slacks hanging loosely on his hips. He held a mug in one hand, blowing over the rim before taking a slow sip. his black hair combed back.

He keeps his dark gaze fixed on me as he walks in.

He didn't react to the mess I'd made. Didn't react to me lying there, struggling like a caught animal. He just looked—cool, detached, completely unimpressed—before crouching beside me.

A large, calloused hand cupped my face, lifting me effortlessly.

My glare burned into him. His eyes, ice-cold, burned back.

"If you disturb me again, I'll throw you in the basement."

His voice was calm, but the warning curled around his words like a loaded gun. His jaw tightened.

"Nod if you understand."

I didn't. I wouldn't.

His grip hardened. His other hand lifted.

I squeezed my eyes shut—bracing for the hit.

But it never came.

Instead, the gag was yanked down.

Warm fingers brushed over my lips before sliding to the back of my neck, gripping firm but controlled.

"Understood?" he asked again.

I wet my lips, drawing in slow, shaky breaths.

I didn't know what got into me, but for a second—just a second—I was this close to nodding. To saying yes.

it's not my fault the man is handsome, tall and has that dark edge like the one I read about in romance books but this asshole kidnapped me.

Then the fire in my chest reignited. now I'm also angry at myself.

I lunged my head forward and sank my teeth into his thumb.

He didn't flinch. Didn't curse. Just yanked my head back by my neck, his grip steady, controlled. The only sign of irritation? his brows dipped in a frown.

I gulped.

he squeezed the back of my neck,

"You think pulling these little stunts will spare you?"

"You fucker—why did you bring me here?!"

His fingers clamped around my jaw, squeezing until my lips parted with a gasp.

"No one taught you manners, huh?" he murmured, voice edged with something between amusement and warning. "Let me educate you, then."

His grip tightened and move dangerously closer. his breath fanned against my skin. 

"This isn't your daddy's castle, Alexei." His voice was low, lethal. "This is my den. My rules. And you don't talk shit."

Saliva dripped down my chin. he looked at me for a second before releasing me with a shove.

"Understood, malysh?" he asked again in a thick Russian accent.

My breath came in short, angry gasps.

but this time I nodded despite gritting my teeth.

He watched me for a moment—eyes unreadable—before standing up, leaving nothing but the ghost of his touch lingering on my skin.

"How long will you keep me here?"

I hated the way my voice sounded—too raw, too vulnerable. The last thing I wanted to show this Bastard.

He was halfway through the door when I spoke, his hand pausing on the frame.

I lay back on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling.

"We'll see."

That was all he said before shutting the door.

I screamed. I cursed.

Nothing happened.

He didn't come back.

I was alone.

I was fucked.