Confined

Ch. Fifteen

(Vladimir)

The Unexpected Visitor

Master's pov

I sat on my desk, incredibly frustrated with everything and everyone. This day had been way too fucking long, and I haven't even gotten started with my actual work. I glanced at the clock.

11:30 a.m.

I groaned and continued working. This business has gone to shit, and I need to get it back up and running.

Money has simply been the biggest problem yet, and it's all we ever do. Sell sell sell. Sell slaves and purchase.

I happen to own every auction house here, on the outskirts of Spain. But business has been rough, and I need the fucking money.

Money equals no distractions. None.

And that's exactly where my problem lies, because Esmeralda is my only distraction, thanks to Izabel.

I'm carelessly in thought when the phone on my desk rings, grunting and mumbling incoherent things, I pick up the phone.

"Yes?", I stated harshly. Someone better be dead or close to dying in order for it to be as important as to be calling me.

"Haha well, you seem to be having a pleasant morning,", I recognized the voice and witty personality.

It was Vladimir.

I hadn't talked to him in person since that one incident.

*Flashback to only eight years ago*

It was merely 7 years after the incident, and I managed to keep the business running smoothly, with the help of one of my father's closest friend.

He would ring me every now and then, checking up on me. It took me at least five years to recover from my sister's death, leaving me to focus on work 24/7 at the age of twenty.

At the time I had adapted to become one of the top successful men in the industry, grossing to 4.6 billion a year. At this age, I had attracted many hateful beings who envied my success, and easy women who loved the money involved.

But of course, like every 20 year old woman who wanted in, I would insist on it, I've had sex with plenty of women, but then again.. after a while, they knew too much.

So I'd have them killed them afterwards, mostly just prostitutes. It was starting to become normal. Word started going around, and soon enough the amount of prostitutes lessened, giving me enough time to focus on my work.

But although the number of women lessened, the envious people continued. But there was one who held me accountable for my past. And it happened to be my most trusted partner, one with whom I possibly couldn't imagine having a problem with.

But he had a major problem with me.

And it was all because I had killed his Father.

The man that had raped my sister that night and killed her by doing it, happened to be his Father.

The same man I brutally slashed in the face and tore up his entire body, the first death I had ever taken, was his Father's.

Did I regret it? No. If it had been the past and I would have known that the man was his father, would I have stopped? No.