Mikhail

3

The car ride passed in silence. If only the mysterious man had sat himself on the passenger's seat instead of at the back with me, I could have escaped with the help of my gun.

My purse and phone had been left at the club, as well as my jacket which would have come in handy in the cold air of the dark night.

I was shocked to find that, instead of a randomly selected and undisclosed location, the car pulled up to a secluded and heavily guarded estate, lit up by the lights from inside and expensive outdoor lighting.

An estate so grand I could only assume it was Peter Mogilevich's private residence.

They would never have brought me here if they knew my last name, but I was beginning to fear they really were going to kill me. Surely they couldn't let me live after having had me witness all the gates and security measures the car drove past to get to this driveway.

The car parked by the huge entryway of the villa and the door was opened for me.

I was tugged out roughly by a pale man in a suit, one of many identical ones littered around the entrance and balconies, all either carrying military-grade rifles or guns.

I glared at him furiously, itching to punch him before the mysterious man rounded the car to deescalate the situation by dismissing the cold man.

"Am I going to be greeted by tea or a bullet between my eyes when I walk in through those doors?" I sent him a sarcastic smile and folded my arms over my chest while he took this moment to observe me in the night. I was freezing, clad in a skimpy black dress while he stayed warm in a fully black suit and dress shirt, the three highest buttons of it left open quite invitingly.

"Neither," he ran a hand through his hair, dark gaze unwaveringly on mine and expression undecipherable, "lose the attitude and make things easier for yourself."

My brows raised with challenge. Instead of replying and humouring him, I sidestepped him and proceeded to walk toward the grand entrance of the estate, knowing every pair of eyes was firmly focused on me.

I made my way up the steps and the doors were opened for me, revealing an even grander entrance hall.

Blood money had definitely provided Peter Mogilevich and his family a pleasant life.

Unfazed, I strutted inside, but my steps halted at the sight of a nude woman stumbling on her feet with tears streaming down her cheeks, making her way out of a room and toward the impressive golden staircase.

My arms fell from my chest and my immediate instinct was to help her, as she was clearly drugged and going through something incredibly unpleasant.

"This way." My upper arm was instead grabbed by the mysterious man who arrived by me, and he began guiding me toward the room from which the woman had come from.

My eyes remained on the woman with deep concern, and I flinched when she stumbled on the stairs and came close to falling face down on them, sniffling very audibly. One of the suited men was quick to follow her, grab her arm, and drag her up the rest of the stairs with a few muttered words.

Peter Mogilevich's main source of income was well-known in our circles, and it only made my heart ache for the woman more.

Our steps halted by the doors, through which I could hear the giggling of a woman.

The man beside me turned me to face him, hand leaving my arm. Another man was about to step up to us, but the one in front of me dismissed him, "I'll handle this."

With this not being my first rodeo I sighed out deeply, and then extended my arms to my sides and spread my legs. I didn't miss the glimmer of pleasure the mysterious man held at having me like this right now, but ignored it.