Only His

Cнаpтёя Йїпё|✎

Aliyah

I woke up from my nap and sat up in bed. I turned on the lamp and I took my time to adjust to the light. I saw a dark figure sitting in a chair. I didn't even have a weapon on me.

I looked closer and noticed that same figure. The way the body relaxed against the chair. Mr. Russian Devil. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you," I yelled.

 I turned the lamp on to a higher light, the room was brighter. I could see him better. He had a bottle of scotch next to him and a glass with like a sip left of scotch. 

His perfectly crisped suit was now ruined, his jacket was missing and his buttons were undone. His tie was loose on his neck. I remembered that I was half-naked and pulled the sheets up, covering my body.

I looked at him more carefully and saw he had blood over him. He tilted his head to the side while and stared at me. 

"Did you know that you talk in your sleep," He pointed out.

"No." 

He put the cup down on the table. He stood up from where he was sitting and I was scared. I wasn't scared because I thought he would kill me, but scared of what he was going to do to me.

"I told you that there would be consequences," He sighed, shaking his head. 

"I'm covered in what's his name again? Blake, I'm covered in his blood," He adds.

 I clenched my jaw and tried to not let it get to me. I saw some splatters on his face and on his suit. You couldn't notice unless you were looking carefully.

"Kazimir, honestly I don't care and if you think you are going to fuck me into submission your wrong because that would be rape," I snarl and stare at him.

He was only back for two days and he thought being gone for two weeks would suddenly change that?

 "That doesn't mean I can't tie you to bed until you beg me to let you go," He chuckles.

"I will scream Racially Motivated until someone hears me."

"Is that all you ever use?"

"What the race card? Yes, the fuck. I don't have any other motherfucking privilege bitch," I scoff. 

"Watch the way you talk to me," He warns. 

I wanted to say something, but I just kept my ass quiet. A didn't need a bullet in my chest for now or in my lower stomach. I think I would die from a bullet though. It would deffo be my Torso. 

His phone in his pocket starts to ring, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and answers it. 

"Yes"

"What do you mean someone stole the shipment," he yells into the phone.

I listened to the conversation and wondered who stole what from him. Looks like someone was being naughty. 

"That was hundred fifty kilos, you better call that Estefan now," He snarled and hung up.

A hundred and fifty fucking kilograms of cocaine. Of course it would have been stolen knew if he was moving that shit. Muchless Cuban cocaine? That is a rare motherfucker and is hard to get a hold of. 

 "You're coming with me, put your dress on and I will get you more comfortable clothes on the way," He orders.

He rubs his beard and then runs his hands through his hair. I slide out of the bed and don't try to cover my body. I hurriedly got dressed and tried to fix my wig. He left the room and I stared at where he stood.