His Wicked Heart (EDITING)

Chapter Four

halcyon
(adj.) calm and peaceful

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PRESENT

ALEKSANDR NIKOLAYEV

I observed her from a distance, wondering why, out of all places, she had chosen to come to this club. She knew very well by now that I owned this club, and had she been any other woman, I might have assumed she came here to capture my attention after all this time. However, Genevieve Antonova was not that kind of woman. I had realized this about her a year ago.

I had seen her a year ago at a bar, and from that moment, she piqued my interest.

Then, we finally encountered each other here, for the first time at Vittoria's Venue. The girl was seated on her chair, exuding an air of calmness. Initially, I was taken aback by her nonchalant posture. Then her head turned, as if she sensed a presence observing her - as if she sensed me.

Just like that first night.

The instant her eyes met mine, they widened, not in fear, though. An unreadable emotion flickered across her face, something intense, almost passionate. And that exact emotion was what led me to her.

Subsequently, I discovered the delicate girl concealed beneath her cold demeanor. The girl who admired my eyes as if they were windows to my corrupted soul. The girl who blushed at the simplest comments I made. The girl who found solace in my arms.

I was surprised by her courage in staying with me, despite being aware of my true identity. Even though I had been the one to ask her to stay, I hadn't expected her to agree. But I liked it.

I liked it so much that I didn't want to let her go. Yet, eventually, she was gone. After giving me a few pieces of her frail heart, she was gone like a gust of wind.

At first, I thought she might be a spy sent by an enemy. However, upon investigating her background, she emerged clean - just an ordinary Russian woman. But sweet Genevieve had a little secret. A secret that compelled me to buy Vittoria's Venue.

Two months ago, Genevieve returned to the city. She had stayed in Kazan, her hometown, before. It was rather cute that she thought I had forgotten her. Even the depths of hell would fail erase her from my memory. She etched a part of herself within me, and I had every ounce of intention on showing her that now that she had returned to my city.

If she had wanted me to forget her, she should have waited for me to leave her first. Then again, perhaps I would have never let her go in the first place. I rarely stayed with a woman for more than a week, yet I had held onto her for months and still felt like I had never had her. I was a greedy, insatiable man when it came to this woman.

For the past year, I had been trailing her. But she remained unaware of this. Maybe I should have made my presence known. Because when she realized two months ago that I had been following her, her expression seemed as if the sky had collapsed onto her. Her reaction couldn't help but provoke a chuckle from me.

And, oh, the way she trembled when she sensed how much I was near her without actually seeing me. I yearned to fuck her right there against the city walls. She excited me in ways I never felt remorse for.

I knew that she would eventually end up in this club, even though I hadn't thought of any specific reason for her visit. Because firstly, there were numerous reasons, and secondly, Genevieve never failed to surprise me.

Today, she was here, seated at the bar, taking occasional sips from her glass. The red velvet dress she adorned showed the fine curves of her body. She resembled a captivating queen amidst a battlefield, where the male populace regarded her like feral animals in rut.

A growl came its way up my throat at the thought that she might have come here for another good fuck.

After she left me, I hadn't seen her with another man. From which I can assume that she hadn't slept with anyone for over a year. So, if she had came here to release her repressed desires, I would willingly be the one to fulfill them once again. Because there was no way Genevieve would touch another man while I still breathed.

A surge of fiery impulses coursed through my body at these futile thoughts, while Genevieve serenely sipped her drink, conscious of my presence yet oblivious to my thoughts.

Could this woman be any more indifferent?

I was well aware that she had detected my presence. Yet, she remained composed. Meanwhile, I was eager to reveal myself to her and witness her seemingly indifferent facade crumble into surprise, or perhaps fear. I yearned to elicit emotions from her - emotions that she had shed solely for me.

My grip on the glass tightened when I saw a man approaching her. I promptly stood, intending to step out of the dark corner. But then, I settled back into my seat as the man walked past her.

He could live when he had no business with my Genevieve.

. . .

A breathy chuckle escaped my lips as I realized I had claimed Genevieve in my thoughts, even though she hadn't seen me in over a year.

I was crazed. She crazed me.

I retrieved my glass once more, returning to my own affairs - or rather, to stalking sweet Genevieve.

There was something utterly strange about it - I never grew tired of watching Genevieve. I was unhinged enough to believe that I could observe her going about her life, paying no heed to the world - or to me - for the rest of my life, and never grow tired of it.

After a few more minutes passed, I glanced around the room, finally choosing to shift my attention from Genevieve after an entire hour of just watching her. A familiar figure caught my eye at the moment.

Francesca Sidorova, formerly a local prostitute before she joined this club. I had elevated her to the highest of her position as she was good at her job. She, now only pleased the VIPs. So, I was confused by her presence in the local section of the club.

But then, I noticed something unexpected. She was headed toward the little muse of mine, which left me both curious and bewildered. Did Francesca know Genevieve? She couldn't have, as there was no record of their encountering each other.

Then... What?

Genevieve rose from her seat in response to something Francesca said. Judging from her movements, she seemed inclined to follow the redhead. Prior to that, Genevieve's eyes briefly scanned the room - a likely signal to me that she was aware of my presence. A chuckle slipped from my lips at that, momentarily pushing aside my curiosity.

Genevieve was a cute woman sometimes.

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