Mikhail

4

"Why would you do that?" The impressive specimen of a man now pacing in front of me glared dangerously.

Mikhail had sat me down on to an armchair in the corner of the dim room we had entered from Mogilevich's study. It seemed to be some sort of seating area, very secluded with only two doors connecting it to the rest of the magnificent estate.

"He deserved it," I muttered out, moving my jaw around to ease the uncomfortable position it had locked itself in after the harsh slap.

His steps halted and he stared me down intimidatingly. He then took off his suit coat, and I laughed spitefully. "You're going to rape me, then? You're all disgusting perverts."

Without a word he turned around and headed to the other door of the room. He opened it and quietly spoke to someone in whichever hallway or room it led to. I heard a murmur in reply, and after a few moments Mikhail closed the door and slowly made his way back to me.

I was frightened at the situation I had gotten myself into, but intent on keeping up a confident facade.

I was unable to conceal my confusion and shock as my eyes travelled from his to the icepack held in his hands.

He rolled up his sleeves in the meantime, before reaching to tower over me once more. Surprising me further, he kneeled down, dark gaze focusing on my cheek.

In complete silence he reached over to place the icepack onto my jaw, immediately easing the sting and pain of the hit. I was staring at him as if I was seeing things, not understanding why he would quite literally put his own life on the line and go against what Mogilevich had ordered him to do to me.

"I don't approve of a lot of things he does," he then cleared his throat, tone incredibly low and comforting despite how gruff it was. His dark eyes moved to mine for a moment, before returning to where he was carefully holding the icepack. "Hitting women being one of them."

"Just because I'm a woman-" I grew defensive and a shadow of a smile passed his lips.

"Even though you're quite capable of handling yourself, yes," he continued, free hand placing itself on the armrest of the chair for balance, his impressive frame enveloping me in the corner, "it's not a habit one should have."

"If you let me walk out of here alive," I then noted, voice much more quiet than I had anticipated due to how close and distracting he turned out to be, "he's going to kill you."

I could hardly drag my eyes away from him, still very confused at his sudden kindness, something that was very rare in our world even when it came to family.

He chuckled lowly, still very focused on the icepack. This left me enough time to study his features under the little moonlight that streamed in through the window beside me.

"Kind of you to care," he grinned to himself lightly, "but I'll be fine."

"What are you? His right-hand-man, or something?" I inquired, shocked at how much he had been able to get away with in front of one of the most dangerous men in the world. Stopping the men with guns, holding Mogilevich back, and now not seeming as if he was planning to kill me as he had been ordered to do.

"Something like that," he murmured in thought, removing the icepack to view my skin underneath it and how swollen it was. I followed closely as he then placed it back against my cheek.

I knew it wouldn't be long until I was located and all Hell would break loose. The extensive and layered security measures leading up to the estate would not be able to hold my father and our men back.

"If Mogilevich won't kill you, Wellesley will."

"He cares about you that much?" Mikhail's dark gaze focused on mine now with genuine curiosity.