When she didn’t immediately speak, he pressed her in a cool voice, “Jaya, what happened to your family?”
“They died,” she said flatly.
“Yes, you said that already. What happened?” he demanded.
“I don’t talk about it,” she snapped.
The cart rattled again, and Ivan turned his head to the side to look at the man who had well past served his purpose. The man cleared his throat and hurried away, taking the cart with him. Ivan turned back to Jaya and raised an eyebrow leaning his elbows on the table. “You do now, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart!”
“Start talking, Jaya, or find out exactly how uncomfortable life can become,” he said coolly, taking another bite of his food.
She glared at him and stabbed a vegetable with her fork. She didn’t put it in her mouth though. “Is this how you treat all your dates? I’m surprised women go out with you,” she sneered, her cheeks darkening with emotion. “Then again, you probably have to kidnap them to get them to go out with you.”
He shrugged. “Actually, I rarely ask about a woman’s family and if I do, I couldn’t care less about the answer. With you, I do care. So, please indulge me, if you don’t want to find out where my patience ends.”
She sat in her chair breathing heavily for a moment, clearly struggling with her need to defy him. Eventually self-preservation won out. Staring stonily past him she said in a flat voice, “They were killed in an embassy bombing. The few people that survived the bombing were killed when gunmen went in after and… and took the building. There were no hostages left alive.”
He nodded, not surprised. He thought it unlikely that she would have living family given the way she’d survived and lived the past several years. “How many of your family were killed?” he asked. “How were you spared?”
She didn’t bother withholding the information now that he’d gotten what he wanted from her. She continued to stare past him as she spoke, her fork held stiffly in her hand as though she’d like nothing better than to stab him with it. “Most of my family died in the bomb – mom, dad, two brothers and a sister.” There was no inflection in her voice as she spoke, though he suspected her inner turmoil was intense. “I was at a hotel with my grandma. She was sick and my mom wanted me to stay behind and take care of her. I w-was annoyed because I wanted to go with them. I thought the embassy would be somehow exciting.”
He didn’t think she’d meant to divulge how she’d felt. Survivor’s guilt. She thought she should’ve died with the rest of them. Up until that point he’d listened to her with his usual dispassion. Then she turned those dark eyes on him, that velvet brown gaze that looked right through him and she said, “My grandma died of a massive heart attack that night, only hours after we found out about the bombing. She couldn’t handle the thought of losing her only son and three of her grandbabies. So, she left me alone in the world.”
A piercing shaft went through his chest and his fist clenched against the table as he imagined her pain. Glass shattered behind him. The servant dropped something on his way back to the table. Jaya jumped, her gaze flying past Ivan’s shoulder. Ivan didn’t bother turning to look. He knew what’d happened. The man had been listening to her, watching her. She’d touched him with her pathetic story, just as she’d somehow touched Ivan.
“How old were you?” he asked, his voice cool.
“Twelve,” she answered picking at her food.
“Impossible,” Ivan snapped. “You can’t have been that young. Who took care of you?”
She shrugged. “No one. I took care of myself.”
“How is this possible?” he asked, staring at her. “You were practically a baby. You weren’t taken in by family or friends? You just… what? Wandered the streets of Mumbai until you grew up and became a hacker? No, I do not believe this, Jaya. Tell me the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth!” she snapped. “I had no more family left, or none that I could get in touch with. But I was self-sufficient. I’m a genius, Ivan. I didn’t just become a hacker as you call it, I was always gifted this way. I look at technology and I just know how it works. I’ve always been that way.” She stared at him, her expression a cauldron of emotion. “What about you, Ivan? Did you just become this way overnight? Or were you born with a gun in your hand? I think something shaped you to become this way. What was it… what’s your accent, Ivan? Bosnian? Croatian? What, you don’t like talking about it?”
He stiffened, anger finally overriding the desire and curiosity he’d been feeling toward his dinner guest. He stared back at her, his icy expression the only warning he gave for her to stop speaking. She didn’t heed him.
“If I had to guess again I would say you were shaped into this soulless monster through war,” she continued, charging forward, heedless of the boundaries she smashed through. The servant who’d become instantly smitten with the pretty hacker wasn’t heedless though. He stood next to Ivan, his mouth open in horror, obviously terrified for her as she ploughed recklessly on. “What happened, Ivan? Did your neighbours murder all of your people and now you take your revenge on others as a way to control the world around you because you couldn’t control your childhood. Is that what happened?”
Ivan picked up his wineglass and took a sip, the only emotion visible was the slight tremble through the stem. He set it carefully down and asked, “Where did you find this information?” She couldn’t possibly have guessed. She must have come across it somewhere else.
She closed her mouth and stared at him, her face paling slightly as she realized exactly how far she’d just gone. What she’d just said to a notoriously vicious international arms dealer. He stood slowly, unfolding his tall body from the chair and then straightening the sleeves of his dress shirt before making his way around the table toward her. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in fear as he approached.
“Talk, now,” he demanded.
The servant hovered behind Ivan as though he could somehow save Jaya from Ivan’s wrath. In a move so swift that the servant didn’t see it coming, Ivan picked up a carving knife from the table, grabbed the other man by the jacket, slammed him against the table and sank the blade deep in his neck, slicing right through in one quick motion. He made sure to sever the carotid artery so the man would bleed out quickly and save them unnecessary screaming.
Jaya stared down at the man’s face, which was less than two feet away from her dinner plate. Blood poured from his neck and soaked into the white tablecloth while he flailed helplessly against the side of the table. Ivan watched Jaya during the entire episode, judging her capacity to handle this side of him. Her face had drained of colour and she looked as though she was about to either vomit or faint. As the servant ceased struggling, his body growing limp against the side of the table, Ivan tossed him away and dropped the knife back on the table. He stepped toward Jaya.
She stood abruptly and tried to back away from him, stumbling into her chair, terror creasing her features.
“Don’t move,” he growled.
She froze, her breaths coming out in whimpers. She bowed her head and refused to look at him as he stepped up to her. He tilted her chin and stared down into her face. Even frightened, she was so fucking beautiful it made his black heart ache. This evening might have ended in disaster, but there would be others. He’d ensured it by caging her in an impenetrable fortress.
He leaned down, bending his neck to adjust for his height and pressed his lips against her trembling mouth in a chaste kiss. “Sleep well, my Victory.” He turned and strode away leaving her to the care of her bodyguard.
Chapter Six
The bodyguard left Jaya just inside her room, closing the door behind him and locking her inside. Never in her life had she felt so frightened, so lonely. Even after the bombing she’d been surrounded by well-meaning people. Now she was left completely alone, isolated and helpless in the clutches of a remorseless killer.
“Oh god,” she moaned and grabbed her hea
d, shaking it as though she could get the horrific image of the dead man out of her head. Besides her grandmother, she’d never seen a dead person up close before, let alone someone killed so horrifically.
She could barely catch her breath, her chest was squeezing itself tighter and tighter. And her limbs were shaking, about to collapse. She rushed to the bed and climbed on top, wrapping herself in the blankets. Once she started to warm up, once her shivering was under control, the crying started. She pulled a fluffy pillow into her cocoon and hugged it against herself while she sobbed out her fear and panic.
As the storm of tears subsided and the hours passed, it became clear that she was going to be left alone in her prison to contemplate what had happened. She pushed the panic away, took a shower in the pristine washroom, in the dark, and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Then she put her powerful mind to good use. After all, she no longer had access to the things she was used to having around to keep herself occupied.
If Ivan wanted to go to war with XSource, then he would find her a capable opponent, even without her toys. “Time to wake up and fight back,” she told herself as an image of the dead man’s face flashed through her brain. She didn’t want to end up like him when Ivan’s use for her ended. Or when she tried his patience one too many times.
The next few days became an exercise in gathering intel. Jaya was used to having technology at her fingertips at all times. She had to practice patience, attempt to control her emotions and reroute her impulses so she could take in more than she was giving away each time she was taken from her cell. Twice more Ivan insisted she dine with him. At first Jaya had sat, stiffly terrified that there would be a repeat of their first evening. However, Ivan had been on his best behaviour, simply sharing a meal with her.
Conversation had been stilted and minimal as though Ivan were distracted. Each time he’d sent another sari to her room with instructions that she prepare to meet him. After their second meal, Jaya found her annoyance rising. She wasn’t able to gather much information during her outings. A guard came to pick her up and escort her to Ivan, then curtly turned away to pretend he wasn’t there during their meal. Then they’d sit in virtual silence while Ivan studied her across the length of the table as though attempting to decipher a particularly difficult puzzle. Jaya was starting to think of these meetings as some of the weirdest dates she’d ever been on. And she’d been on some pretty bad dates given her tendency towards antisocialism.
This was their third night together, her third summons. She impatiently pulled on the sari, barely glancing at the shimmering green fabric in the mirror before yanking a section strategically across her bared belly. She slid her feet into the matching flats and stomped to the door to wait for her escort.
Jaya strode across the pool deck, the place she was beginning to associate with seeing Ivan. It was where his man brought her whenever she was summoned. She glanced around, annoyed, searching for him. He was usually out here before her, waiting for her arrival. She was about to ask the guard where Ivan was when she spotted his tall, dark-haired form clearing the stone staircase opposite her.
She crossed her arms and glared at him as he approached. His own gaze roamed over her, as though he were starving for the sight of her. She knew he didn’t like this growing dependence he seemed to be developing for her, because his frown was almost as fierce as hers by the time he drew close.
“You have something to say to me?” he asked.
“How long are we going to play this game, Ivan?” she demanded, and before he could ask her to explain she continued her tirade. “Where you summon me from my cozy little dungeon with all its wonderful amenities, force me to dress in traditional Hindi clothes and drag me into your exalted company as if I’m here for your amusement, which, based on what I’ve seen so far, has a fifty percent chance of ending in my death. Because I have to say, this is starting to get old.”
The clench of his jaw and flash of his eyes told her she’d angered him. She half expected him to retaliate physically, the way he had with the servant during their first “date.” Instead, he did what Ivan did best, he used words like poison darts, each one burying themselves in her skin. “You will watch your words, Jaya, lest you find your dungeon shrinks to the size of a cage and your amenities need be bought with favours rather than simply given by my grace. Your present coziness can easily be remedied. Never forget that.”
She shuddered and bowed her head, giving him a slight nod. For the most part, she’d lived on her own for many years, free of interference. She used her quick, intelligent mind to absorb and learn everything she could about the world around her to avoid situations like the one she was currently embroiled in. There was a reason she never worked for organizations or governments. Jaya didn’t want to have to account for her words or actions; she wanted to live free. She knew what it was like to fall victim to the hatred of men.
Now she was finally caught. Crushed under the heel of a criminal mastermind, a man who was simply curious. A man who would probably forget about her the moment she stopped amusing him. She glanced past him at the table. This time, instead of food, there was a chess board laid out, all the pieces in place.
“Ar-are we playing chess today?” she asked him hesitantly.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, simply studied her face as she warred with herself. She really did hate Ivan. He’d stolen her freedom, murdered someone in front of her and bullied her every chance he got. Yet, he was an extremely intelligent man, the head of one of the world’s most powerful criminal organizations. The thought of pitting her mind against his was… exhilarating.
He strode to the table and pulled a chair out for her. “Come, sit,” he commanded.
Jaya took the chair he offered, shivering slightly when he ran his long fingers through the thick fall of her hair. His people had provided her with a hairbrush but no ponytail holders. She had asked, but her request, like most of them, had fallen on deaf ears. His people looked through her, like robots, only responding with slight nods when she asked for something they could actually provide. After the death of the waiter, she understood why. Interest in her could be fatal.
Ivan took the seat opposite her and sat with a relaxed posture she couldn’t hope to emulate around the terrifying man. The table they were sitting at wasn’t their usual dining table, but a smaller version. They would be able to reach the chess pieces easily. The white pieces were facing her. Before Ivan could prompt her, Jaya reached for her queenside knight and moved it over the pawns and onto the board.
He arched an eyebrow and for a moment she could swear he fought not to lift the edge of his lip in a smile. “A bold move, Jaya,” he said, his voice almost chiding. “I wouldn’t have expected it from you.”
“And why is that?” she asked coldly.
He moved a pawn, clearing his queenside rook for easy movement. A common first move. “You’ve spent most of your life moving in the shadows, running and hiding, perfecting the art of protecting yourself at all costs.” His grey eyes snapped up, pinning her to her chair. For a moment she feared he saw everything and terror unlike anything she’d felt swamped her. Would he reach for a knife? Gut her like he’d murdered that servant on their first night together? He continued, “You set defenses up all around yourself, hide behind your computers and your programs. At the expense of real life experiences.”
Jaya glared at him and moved a pawn away from her castle. “Real life is overrated. It got me kidnapped.”
“Perhaps your lack of real world experience is what prompts your bold play,” he murmured as he studied the board. “I wonder, Jaya, are you so bold in other forms of play? I admit, I’m intrigued by the thought.”
“While nothing about you intrigues me,” she snapped in a rush, her face heating as she allowed anger to control her words. She knew better than to provoke him, but she hated how he controlled her every move, how he attempted to learn things about her, to predict her. He was right, she did hide in the shadows, set up
defences. And he was also correct, on an ordinary day she wouldn’t play a bold game of chess. But Ivan was pissing her off, pushing her, making her unpredictable.
He ignored her outburst, instead he continued to move his pawns, creating a defensive barrier around his king. They maintained silence while Jaya played recklessly and Ivan played cautiously. She was beginning to think Ivan was playing differently than usual as well, luring her in with his cautious textbook moves before he showed his true strengths. The hallmark of a true predator; patience.
“Tell me more about your family,” he asked in a musing voice.
Her head snapped up from the chess board and her concentration scattered. She stared at him for a full minute before she could find her voice. “Why?”
He stared back, his expression coolly disinterested. He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at the board. “Your move, Jaya,” he said chidingly.
She barely looked at the board as she moved a piece and slammed it down. “I don’t like to talk about my family. You know that,” she said gritting her teeth and trying to control the tears that rushed forward. They were tears of frustration more than anything because Ivan was using her dead family as a way of getting a reaction from her, of rattling her. He was a formidable enemy and she was weakening under the onslaught of his quick mind. And the sad part was, Ivan didn’t need to do much to rattle his victim. A word here or there sufficed, and he was winning the war through a ruthless psychological campaign. Ivan was turning out to be a master manipulator, one that Jaya might admire if she wasn’t so wholly under his power.
“Nonetheless, I want to know about them,” he said, taking one of her pawns off the board with his rook. “Or more accurately, I want to know how you look and how you sound when you talk about them.”
She clenched her fist in her lap. “That’s some Silence of the Lambs creepiness right there, Ivan. Maybe you should work on sounding less psycho when you talk to women. Then you wouldn’t have to resort to kidnapping to get a date.”
Capturing Victory (Driven Hearts Book 3) Page 4