Emperor of Mayhem

t w e n t y - o n e

Tonight's dinner was delicious. Mr Putin outdid himself with the Spanish dish. It made up for how shitty my day was from getting a C instead of the A+ I had hoped Filip and I would get in our project, to having to survive the torture of seeing Filip and Aaron during PE, all flirtatious smiles and discreet exchange of eye contacts.

But because I was sad didn't mean I should starve myself. So yes, I ate to my fill, didn't even bother to try and investigate why Mr Varkov turned down dinner as I stuffed my face with the mouthwatering meal.

But speaking of Mr Varkov. Why did he say he was busy when called for dinner? What had got him so busy that he refused food?

I should go bug him a little instead of lying alone in the room and thinking about Filip and his lover.

Throwing my legs off the peach couch, I didn't even put on my slip-ons as I jogged across the room, pulling the door open and crossing the hall to his door.

I placed a knock first and waited for a reply but I heard nothing. Not ready to walk in and catch him half-naked like the other time, I exercised patience and continued knocking.

After five knocks and yelling his name into the door, I finally heard the echo that seemed to have travelled a few miles to me.

Twisting the handle of the door, I pushed it open, stepping into the dim lit room but with caution. I looked toward the empty bed which was still neatly laid as though he hadn't even touched it today, then glanced at the desk he was always perched on doing one thing or the other but still, no one. The room was so quiet I could hear an ant walking across the tiled floor.

"Mr Varkov?" I called, pulling a frown as I shut the door behind me, my feet wandering further in, "Are you in the shower or something?"

I glanced toward the bathroom door but didn't hear the sound of a shower or shuffles of someone moving around. Where did he answer from?

"In here, Azania." I suddenly heard his baritone voice from the walk-in closet and my eyes darted toward it.

"Are you naked?" I asked, taking a cautious step backward, ready to bolt if he dared to come out without clothes on.

"I'm not naked, Azania," I heard him say, a tease coloring his tone, "But I can be if you want me to."

I rolled my eyes, crossing the room to the direction of the voice. When I stepped into the mini boutique he casually called a walk-in closet, the first thing that caught my attention was the magnificent view. I had only ever seen grand closets like this in magazines and movies and never thought a day would come so soon when I would be standing in one.

"Mr Varkov?" I called, searching around when I saw nothing amongst the designer brands and gold accessories that didn't look anything like him.

"In here." The voice echoed again, clearer now, and when I traced it, I realised it was coming from behind the rack where long coats were hung. That got me really irked. What was Mr Varkov doing hiding behind his clothes?

"What are you doing there-'' I was forced to swallow my question when I pulled the clothes aside only to see that there was a room behind it, the sliding wooden door pushed aside to give a view of the inside.

"OMG!" my jaws unhinged as I stepped fully into what looked like an art studio, as paintings, brushes and empty canvases could be spotted in the room, some part of the floor covered with colour stains, "There is a secret room in your walk-in closet?"