They grabbed the wrong girl.
They thought I was his wife, not the woman he’s obsessed with.
Ivan Romanov is one of the Russian mafia’s biggest financial backers.
And he’s been destroying my life piece by piece just to get me in his bed.
I never wanted to be in this situation.
I was doomed. About to be forced by a powerful man who was willing take what I didn’t want to give.
Then he came, a demon in the dark. A dark voice that told me to be a good girl if I want to live…
“I simply don’t understand it, Bart. You had everything in the palm of your hand…”
My fist connects again with his body and this time it elicits a muffled screech. That tends to happen when someone’s kidneys have been hit hard enough. It’s strange, for such vital organs, the body sure didn’t keep them hidden inside somewhere safe.
The screams and screeches peter out until I slam my fist against the other kidney. If I was a gambling man, which I’m not, I would say that Bart would be pissing blood for a week if he wasn’t destined to die pretty soon.
“You were a part of the inner circle. You had your mouth on the golden teat! How the fuck could you betray, Lucifer?” I ask.
Standing in front of Bart, I shake my head at him. His eyes are wide with terror, and if I’m not mistaken, he pissed himself recently.
“All you had to do was tell Lucifer the Japs had approached you. You could have told him they were trying to pay you off. You know for a fact he would have fixed you up. He always takes care of us!”
I don’t mean to scream that at the end, but Bart has to have known that.
Loyalties have been tested in the past with some of the guys, and every time Lucifer was there to make sure we followed him. To make sure we knew he was as loyal to us as we are to him.
The shrill sound of my phone ringing from my suit pocket stops me from swinging at his eyes. My fist is inches away from his nose when I stop myself.
I grin at him.
Wagging a finger in his eyes, I say, “Not just yet, be right back. You just hang out for me.”
I pull the phone out of the suit jacket I left hanging on the back of the shitty chair in this room.
Everything in this shitty room is fucking way past it’s prime. Then again, if it wasn’t an abandoned old motel out in the middle of nowhere it wouldn’t be so shitty.
“This is Andrew.”
“Andrew, my friend!”
“Harrold, I was going to call you soon… How’s things going?”
“Busy, as you well know. Mr. Lucifer informed me you would be needing my services today. I wanted to see if you had a time frame…”
Winking at a terrified Bart, I say, “Can you meet me at the old motel in about an hour? I won’t be here much longer.”
“I will be there.”
Disconnecting the phone, I put it back in my pocket before I pull the forty-five pistol from my shoulder holster. Bart is shaking now, and that wet spot I saw earlier is growing larger by the second.
The distinct smell of shit erupts in the air as I walk up to Bart and push the barrel of the pistol against his stomach.
“It’s a shitty thing to know exactly how much more time you have left to live. To know you can’t change the certainty of your own death.”
Lowering the pistol towards his crotch, I pull the trigger.
The loud eruption of the gun in this small but tattered room deafens me. It’s a few moments before I’m able to hear his loud screams through the ball gag I have crammed in his mouth.
“You’re going to the afterlife a cockless bastard!” I roar over his screaming.
Aiming at his knee caps, I pull the trigger twice in rapid succession.
One in each knee cap.
The screaming continues for a few seconds before he passes out, his head slumping forward. Pain has a way of breaking everyone. He’s no different than any other pile of shit out there.
Not anymore he isn’t.
Fucking little bitch is now one of the commoners. One of the fucking sheep out in the fucking herd that gets to die when the big bad fucking wolves tear his throat out.
There’s a code in this world, it’s an oath to each other that binds us. It’s there to make sure we have each other’s back, no matter what.
What he did… It’s just not done.
We are all hard, battle-tested men who want the most from our role in life. He just threatened that role.
He removed himself from being above the common crowd and put himself down in the mud like the rest of the fucking pigs.
Rolling in filth and shit.
Sitting in the chair that my coat hangs on is the small black leather bag I brought into this shitty motel with me. It’s a fucking dump here, and I pray that I don’t get bugs from the shitty room.
Pulling a hypodermic needle out of the bag, I take the bottle of adrenaline out as well. I fill the syringe as
I walk over to Bart.
Back when I was in the SEALs, I served as a medic. Normally, I would never pull someone from a blackout like this…. it fucks with the body and will probably hurt his heart and brain pretty bad.
But he doesn’t need to worry about those things.
I inject directly into the heart. His head snaps forward in wide-eyed misery as he comes back to reality.
Walking back to the bag, I pull out a small bottle of morphine.
His hands are stretched high above his head and he hangs from the ceiling supports. It doesn’t help with injecting the pain meds.
Shrugging my shoulders, I push the medicine into a vein throbbing on the left side of his neck.
The drugs must work pretty damn well because his eyes lose that pain-filled haze and slowly begin to focus on me. I didn’t give him much though, just enough to dull the pain but not cloud the mind.
“Bart, I know you were one of us so I won’t send you to be fed to the pigs while you are alive. You get that much out of me. But Lucifer has a reputation to protect and so do I. I’m going to use you as a message to the Japs. You won’t be alive to give it to them, but I’m pretty sure they will understand it all the same.”
Pulling a scalpel from the bag, I first slice off his right ear then his left.
The screams are audible through the gag again and I’m tempted to do this after he dies, but I don’t think that would be the right thing. He betrayed Lucifer and put the wife and kids in jeopardy–that can’t be allowed ever.
But more importantly, he betrayed me and the men who serve our boss.
Taking out my anger again, I punch him in the mouth. I wince. Fuck, I think I hurt a knuckle with his teeth.
Shit, it’s time to finish this off. I need a cold beer and a very hot pussy after shit like this.
He passes out sometime after I stab his eyes out.
No sight, no hearing, and no talking. He will go to them as a good message of what is to come for daring to attack us. To dare attack our boss.
Slicing the rope that is holding him up, his body falls to the ground in an almost boneless fashion. He’s in the land of twilight now, not dead but almost.
I’ve never removed a tongue before and it makes my stomach quiver a bit.
My phone rings as I am unzipping my pants, my thick flaccid cock coming out of my boxers. “Fuck”
Walking over to my coat, I pull the phone out and walk back to the still-breathing body. I push connect at the exact moment I release a torrent of piss down on the bastard’s face.
“We’re here, Andrew.”
“Ah, okay. Come on back, I’m done here.”
My bladder comes to a stop as I finally empty it completely. Bart’s face turns towards me and he makes a loud, pitiful groan.
Kneeling down beside him, I say, “I hope you find even more torment in hell.”
Putting the pistol to his forehead, I pull the trigger, and again the roar of the gun is deafening to my ears.
One year later…
Ivan’s baby blue eyes flick towards me, full of apology, as he focuses most of his attention on the phone pressed against his ear.
My eyes meet his and I keep expecting to feel something. To feel something more than this coldness that seeps inside of me.
Whoever he’s listening to must say something to make him angry because his eyes narrow, no longer focusing on me, and he speaks sharply in Russian.
Honestly, I don’t care that he has a phone call. Anything that pulls his attention away from me is a welcome relief.
I just want this stupid date to be over with.
Glancing down at my salad, I stab a piece of romaine lettuce a little more forcibly than required and push it into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Ivan continues to speak rapidly in Russian and I don’t understand a word he’s saying except for the name Lucifer.
I never considered Ivan the religious type. In fact, I’m pretty sure the guy is a ruthless, heartless criminal who would sell his own mother if given half a chance. But more and more often lately, I keep hearing that name.
Has Ivan suddenly taken up faith?
It doesn’t seem likely. Something else must be going on… Something that is pissing Ivan off.
Dropping my fork, I push my plate away and pick up my glass of wine. Slowly, my eyes glide over the room, taking in the upscale restaurant he brought me to. The décor is exquisite. Everything is done in white, gold, and sparkling crystal.
The clientele is impeccable; we’re surrounded by the crème de la crème of Garden City. I recognize the mayor, a few A-list actors and a rising pop star.
Everyone is dressed like they’re ready to hit the red carpet or something–including the man sitting across from me.
Ivan looks like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine in his dark charcoal grey suit and blue silk tie. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, and he leans back in his chair. He is easily the most attractive man in the room, and it’s done effortlessly.
He’s beautiful, one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid eyes on with his short, white blonde hair, and baby blue eyes. His bone structure is flawless. Sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, and soft, kissable lips.
But his beauty does nothing but leave me feeling empty. No matter how hard I try to connect with him the connection just isn’t there.
Sipping my wine, I know I should be flattered that a man like him is interested in a girl like me. And in the beginning, I was flattered… but no longer.
I’ve glimpsed the monster behind the beautiful mask and now I can’t unsee it.
Two shadows move behind Ivan and I drink deeper.
I’m totally fucked and I don’t know how to get myself out of this mess. Those two shadows are guarding
Ivan’s back, and I know there are at least two more at each exit. I could try to slip away, but even if I do succeed, what about Abigail?
My heart starts to race and I quickly have to shut down my panic. Freaking out will only make this worse.
So what if I don’t have an excuse tonight to keep him out of my bed? Maybe it won’t even come to that…
Ivan’s rapid Russian slows and his blue eyes focus once more on me. He watches me drain the remaining wine in my glass and makes a motion with his hand. A waiter lingering beside the table rushes forward, refilling my glass before I even get it back down to the table.
Ivan’s soft lips spread into a pleased smile and he picks up his glass of vodka, cheering me before tipping it back.
His eyes never leave my face as he drinks, and I know he expects me to join him. I also know that if I refuse the invitation that it will most likely make him angry… so I pick up my glass and tip it back.
Ivan drains his glass and the waiter steps forward to refill it but Ivan waves him away. I finish off half of my glass, feeling the warm buzz of alcohol warming my belly, before I set it down on table gently.
Ivan motions for the waiter to refill my glass for me.
Clenching my teeth together, I watch the waiter top my glass off and my cheeks burn with heat.
So it’s come to this? He’s resorting to getting me drunk so he can finally sleep with me…
Lifting my glass, I drain down the wine, drinking deep. I need the alcohol’s false courage to fortify me so
I can make it through this night.
Ivan smirks and his eyes warm as he watches me.
He’s been trying to sleep with me for weeks now, and I’m not sure how I’m going to blow him off tonight. I’m running out of excuses.
How did my life come to this? Dreading the affections of such a man…
I bet half the women in this room would probably give their left tit to sleep with him.
They can have them if they want him.
I fucking hate him.
Eight weeks ago, Ivan walked into my life, and I wish he would have walked right back out of it. He walked into my work, a little clothing boutique downtown, looking for a present for his sister.
Shamelessly, he flirted with me the entire time I helped him pick out a scarf. And given that he’s so damn handsome, I was immediately taken with him.
I was over the moon when he returned the next week, and the week after that.
When he asked me out on a date, it was like a dream come true.
He’s rich, beautiful, and powerful. And for those first couple of weeks, I wondered if I had somehow stepped into a fairy tale. He lavished me with expensive gifts, and took me out to expensive restaurants.
He even gifted me an entire new designer wardrobe.
But after a while it was becoming very apparent that he expected me to repay him for the favors.
That was when the illusion started to fade for me. I began to notice his perfection was flawed. All the little things became more apparent. Still, I tried to return his affection, up to a point, but he always wanted more.
He demanded it.
I tried to break things off. I even attempted to return everything he ever gifted me, but he’s a man who refuses to accept the word no.
After the first night I refused him, I started to notice strange men following me to work. They’d linger outside the boutique during my shift, keeping tabs on me and everyone I interacted with.
At night, Ivan would show up at my door, questioning me about my day, and becoming more and more obsessive. I became afraid, and even looked into a restraining order, but all that did was piss him off and show me just how powerful he truly is…
Ivan speaks a few clipped words into his phone and then hangs up. Tucking the phone into his pocket, he leans forward, and grabs my hand.
I resist the urge to pull my hand away. Something about his touch makes my skin crawl.
“My apologies, myshka,” he purrs, fingers wrapping around me tightly. “But that was a very important call.”
I nod my head and set my empty glass down on the table. Ivan nods towards the glass and the waiter steps forward, refilling it once more.
Ivan pulls my hand towards him and then lifts it to his mouth, lips tenderly brushing across my knuckles.
For a moment, I wonder what is wrong with me. Something inside of me must be broken. This beautiful man is bestowing his affections upon me but I find his touch repulsive. No matter how hard I try, I can’t bring myself to enjoy it.
Neither his beauty nor his money can make up for all his horrible faults.
He’s controlling, and aggressive when he gets angry. He hurt me the last time I refused to let him through my apartment door. He shoved me into the damn wall and pulled out a chunk of my hair in front of my daughter Abigail.
I’m trapped. The best I can do right now is try to make him happy so he doesn’t kill me…
I try to pull my hand away from Ivan’s mouth and his fingers tighten around me, squeezing painfully.
I endure the compression for as long as I can before a yelp slips past my lips.
Ivan’s eyes flash and then he grins as if I’ve somehow pleased him. His grip relaxes and I let my hand drop to the table before trying to pull it back.
I watch him warily until I have my hand safely in my own lap.
Leaning back, he flicks his fingers at his empty glass and his vodka is refilled immediately.
“Amy…” he purrs huskily.
Rubbing my hand beneath the table cloth, I make my expression as neutral as possible. “Yes?”
“Finish your drink.”
Inside, I’m fuming. Reaching out, I grab my drink and it takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep from tossing it in his smirking face. He lifts his own glass and sips from it while watching me.
I bring my glass to my mouth and my stomach twists as I sip. Already, the wine is sour on my tongue and the warm buzz has become an annoying after-effect.
Our eyes meet over the rims of our glasses. His bore into mine like icy daggers until I finish the wine off completely. The glass empty, I’m afraid to set it back down on the table, afraid he’ll order the waiter to refill it.
I lean back, keeping the empty glass in my grip.
Smirk sharpening, Ivan snaps his fingers and a body peels away from the shadows, one of his beefy bodyguards coming forward. Murmured words are exchanged between the two before a long, black velvet box is produced.
My eyes fall upon the box and I’m filled with dread and trepidation. Another gift? Please no…
Setting his glass down on the table, Ivan rises and approaches me, the box in his hand.
Watching him approach, I shake my head. “Ivan… You shouldn’t have…”
Seriously, he shouldn’t have. Every gift he’s ever given me he’s used to force some kind of repayment out of me. In the beginning it was sweet, he would only ask for another date.
More recently though it’s become a kiss while his hands try to fondle me…
He plucks the empty glass from my hand and sets it on the table. Immediately the waiter comes forward and refills it.
“Ah, but I must, my myshka. Tonight is a special night, and I want you to remember it always.”
Bending over me, he snaps the box open in front of my eyes. I blink at all the diamonds, their dazzling sparkles almost blinding me.
“It’s too much… I can’t possibly accept it,” I protest softly as he lifts the strands of diamonds from the box.
Ivan clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he wraps the strands around my neck. “It’s only a trinket.”
“A trinket?” I repeat incredulously. The three strands are completely covered in diamonds, and I know they must be worth thousands.
“Yes,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “Only a trinket. When you give me my heir then I will present you with proper jewels.”
Heir? What the fuck? This is the first I’m hearing of this…
Ivan buries his face in my hair and breathes in deep.
I shudder, wanting to rip the diamonds off of my neck.
“Come,” he says, pulling away and grabbing me by my sore hand.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying not to panic as he pulls me to my feet.
His arm wraps around my waist, bringing me close. “It’s time to retire for the evening.”
I shake my head and glance around, searching for an escape.
My eyes fall upon the table. “But I didn’t even get to finish my drink…”
Ivan tips his head back, chuckling. Reaching around me, he grabs my glass and hands it to me. “Here. You can finish on the way.”
Pushing the glass into my hand, I have no choice but to accept it. He gives me a pointed look until I lift the glass to my lips and drink.
Fuck it. If I have to endure this, I might as well be drunk.
Neck arching back, I drain the wine completely as he guides me. His fingers flex around my hip protectively and he leads me to the back of the restaurant, through the kitchen, and to a door that opens to the back alley.
He has some silly rule about never leaving through the front.
I set the empty glass on a counter before we pass through the back door, stepping into the night. Ivan’s black limo is idling and the chauffeur holds the back door open for us.
Ivan pauses for a moment, looking towards the two bodyguards in the alley before dragging me forward.
We take three steps and then Ivan tenses beside me.
Dropping my hand, he whirls around, and everything happens so fast I’m not sure what is happening.
Ivan crumbles to the ground and one of his bodyguards approaches me.
For a hysterical moment, I want to thank the bodyguard for knocking out Ivan but then the man grabs me. His hand slaps over my mouth and my lips are stuck together, I can’t move them.
I gaze up at the bodyguard, my eyes wide and watering as I scream behind the tape in panic.
His face hardens and then the world goes black.
As the black silk hood settles over my head and two strong arms lift me up, I can’t help but feel a little relieved…
How fucked up is that?
Bagged and gagged. That went almost too easy, but for now I’m not going to complain. Shit, I even have a hot fucking chick in the back with our package, but it’s going to be a shame if I have to consider her excess baggage.
Lucifer doesn’t like baggage when it comes to jobs. He wants everything neat and orderly. And this is a whopper of excess baggage.
We were supposed to take only Ivan and the wife, not his bimbo.
Snagging his fuck-toy was a must though when he brought the girl out the back door with him. If he hadn’t been such a gigantic douche nozzle, manhandling her out the door like he did, we could have snatched him and left her in the dust.
Shit. Things like this only lead to fucking complications. I don’t want complications. Fuck, it should have been his stupid fucking wife. Not this… this… fucking sexy young girl.
Shaking my head, I frown at the two people sitting across from me in the black limousine.
Turning my head, I tell Peter, “Let’s get to the warehouse, but add a few minutes to the trip. I need to figure out what to do about our little complication.”
Peter nods his head and I turn back to watch my prisoners for a few more minutes. The girl is sitting there, stiff as a board. Her every muscle looks locked in strain as she turns her head towards every little sound.
I bet she’s coming to grips with her dire situation. I bet she knows she is a loose strand, like a weed that needs to be plucked from the garden.
I fucking hate killing women, it turns my stomach when I do it, but… Fuck. Stupid fucking Ivan is dooming her.
Leaning forward, I growl out, “You stupid fuck, Ivan.”
Lashing out with a fist, I snap it into the bag that’s hiding that shit-fuck’s face. I feel the protruding bulge of his nose before the sharp stab of pain lances through my hand.
The scream of pain from behind his gag is just a little louder than my growl of, “Fuck!”
Shaking my hand, I hear a chuckle coming from the front seat behind me. I’ve fucked my damn hand up again. This damn hand has been nagging me all year.
Peter says, “Shit, did you just fuck your hand up again, Andrew?”
Ignoring him, I reach forward and whip the bag off of Ivan’s head.
He’s got fucking spirit though, I’ll give him that. Bloody nose, tears streaking down his cheeks. He still looks pissed off. And if looks could kill? I’d be castrated.
Shaking my hand, I rub the knuckle that is sending sharp stabs of pain through it. I fractured the damn thing when I was taking care of Bart, and I haven’t really had a chance to let the thing heal up.
Too many people are getting swept up into the maelstrom that is Lucifer’s rage. It’s been a year of fire and brimstone.
Too bad Ivan’s on the wrong side of the fence right now. I’m positive he’s never been on the receiving end of the treatment he’s getting right now. Well, fuck him and his bitch ass looks. Dude isn’t going to be such a pretty boy now.
That fucking broken nose will make sure of that.
“You’ve become a problem, Ivan. Now, usually Lucifer would handle things like you exclusively… But that’s not how things are happening now. The inner circle has been unleashed on fucks like you.”
He yells a bunch of words through the tape but they are too gargled to understand.
Shrugging my shoulders at him, I say, “Can’t understand a single fucking word you’re saying right now. I’d remove that tape from your mouth, but then you would probably be squealing like your bimbo over there.”
Looking at her fully for a moment, I can appreciate what the man sees in this girl.
Her legs look fucking amazing. She wasn’t put into the car gently, so the eyeful of legs and just a hint of exposed crotch is a pretty fucking hot sight.
She looks a little too elegant for someone like Ivan, too… She doesn’t look fake like Ivan’s wife does. No, this girl has never had the touch of a surgeon’s knife.
From what I saw of her in the restaurant… fuck. If she was mine, I’d never let her out of my bed.
He screams at me again through the tape, and I can tell Ivan really doesn’t appreciate me looking at his chick.
Turning to look at him, I just can’t take all the noise he keeps spurting out like some fucking stuck pig.
Leaning forward again, I slam my fist into his stomach. The air expels from his nose explosively and he loses all focus on me.
Turning my head to Peter, I say, “Take us to the warehouse. We’ll see what Lucifer wants to do. We need this pile of shit out of the car. He smells like sour vodka and piss.”
I can’t see. No matter how much I blink my eyes, there’s no light. No hint of anything around me. Only darkness.
This damn bag on my head is stifling.
At first, when I was grabbed and tossed into whatever vehicle we’re in, I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Panicking about my situation. But I cut that shit out quick. All it got me was my own hot breath in my face and that totally sucked ass.
Complication. They haven’t outright said it but I know that’s me. Whatever they have planned, I’m not supposed to be a part of it.
Somewhere near me is a man, a man with a very deep, rumbling voice, who is holding my life in his hands.
If I could beg or plead, I would. I’d get down on my knees and promise anything. But all I can do is sit here on this seat and pray that they realize I’m no threat. I won’t talk about anything that’s happened.
They only want Ivan… and fuck, they can totally have him. Whatever they have planned for him he probably deserves it.
My lips are sealed.
I know it’s useless trying to do anything about this.
You see, I’ve already learned my lesson when dealing with these kinds of men. They do the things they do and get it away with it because they’re not afraid of the authorities. They are the authorities in Garden City. Meting out their own rules and justice.
They have the police and the judges and everyone else above them in their pockets.
I learned this the hard way when I tried to get a restraining order against Ivan. Not only was my petition dismissed, the judge actually lectured me about wasting his time and advised me to make up with Ivan.
He threatened to turn the authorities on me.
Beside me Ivan gurgles and I strain my ears, trying to listen over him. The man who spoke earlier is quiet now. Too quiet.
If only I could speak. If only I could say something…
I can sense him though. I can feel his eyes boring into me. All the little hairs on my body stand on end, pointing towards him.
I’m terrified of him, yet something about that fear also excites me.
I feel so fucked up for feeling like this.
The vehicle slows and comes to a complete stop. The engine turns off.
Fuck, this is it.
One of the doors opens, and I feel a burst of cold air hitting my legs. Ivan grunts and I sense a struggle beside me.
“Fuck, he does stink,” someone mutters unhappily. “Come on, you stupid fuck.”
The air beside me moves and then there’s a thump. A body hitting the pavement?
“Really? You’re going to make me drag you?”
There’s a series of grunts and the gritty sound of gravel grinding against something.
I’m so focused on what’s going on outside that I completely forget about the danger inside.
Suddenly a warm hand comes down on my bare thigh and I gasp, stiffening.
Strong fingers wrap around my thigh, digging into my flesh. But the grip doesn’t hurt… No, there’s something about it that’s strangely possessive.
The fingers relax, flexing, and then they drag upwards. “You’re going to be a good girl, yes?” the deep voice asks.
For a heartbeat I’m so terrified I do nothing. Then quickly realizing my mistake, I start to rapidly nod my head.
I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be so good, I try to mentally project to him.
I’ll do anything to make it home to Abigail.
His hand reaches the apex of my thigh and then there’s a pressure. Oh god… Does he want me to spread for him?
“If you do everything you’re told,” he growls and pushes harder, forcing me to open my legs for him. “I just might be able to get you out of this.”
Might?! He might be able to get me out of this?
Once again I start to pant, my own hot little breaths hitting the bag.
His fingers move and then I feel them brushing against my panties. I freeze.
“Would be such a shame…” he mutters and then his hand pulls away.
The tension breaks and my lungs pull in much needed air. Before I can think too much about what he just said, or did for that matter, my arm is grabbed and I’m pulled out of the vehicle.
Stumbling, I try to get my bearings.
The cool air hits me and I shiver, straightening. Fingers tighten around my arm, pulling me forward.
My heels dig into gravel and I’m grateful for the firm grip that guides me. The small rocks cause me to slip and slide a bit.
More than a couple of times I almost fall on my ass.
After a few minutes we step inside a building, shielded from the biting wind.
No longer focusing all of my attention on trying to prevent a twisted ankle, I realize there was a conversation going on that just ended abruptly.
Because of me?
All at once my hackles rise and my chest constricts with panic.
I can’t see them but I can feel them. The monsters in the darkness…
A door slams behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin.
The grip around my arm tightens, nudging me forward, then digs in deep when I don’t budge.
I’m too frightened to keep moving.
My heels are trying to dig into the smooth floor while alarm bells go off inside my head.
“Be a good girl,” the deep voice from earlier hisses as he drags me forward.
I’m already fucking up, I quickly realize. How the hell am I going to make it through this?
The fingers around my arm loosen and then I’m pushed backward, stumbling before I land on a chair.
Rattled, I shake my head a little and then my arms are yanked behind my back. My wrists slam together, and something is wrapped around them. Tightly binding them.
It all happens so quick, it’s so damn efficient… they must have a lot of practice at this…
Beside me, someone groans in agony and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Ivan.
Suddenly, the bag is yanked off my head and my eyes blur with tears as they adjust to the bright spotlight beaming down on me. I blink quickly to clear them.
Standing in front of me, with a smirk tugging at his lips, is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He’s so beautiful, so unreal and ethereal, at first I think he must be a figment of my imagination. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Features so perfect I can find no flaw in them. The light seems to caress his glowing skin, but the longer and longer I look at him, the more I feel distressed.
He’s too perfect… almost angelic.
But no angel would be in a place like this…