My jaw tightened as I crumpled the paper into my fist and dropped it into the ashtray on my table. I withdrew a lighter from my pocket, turning the paper into flames with a single spark.
When I returned my gaze to the gray-haired man, he was already sweating on his forehead. Fear was etched across his face, and I could almost hear the sound of his heartbeat.
Quietly, I walked around my desk with slow, measured steps, watching him tremble as I approached. In no time, I halted before him, my imposing frame towering over his average height.
“I should kill you where you stand and feed your body to my hounds,” I growled, my voice dripping with venom.
“I’m just a messenger, Mr. Tarasov. Just a messenger,” he said softly, unable to look up at my face.
I went silent for a while, feeling the rage coursing through me like electricity. The mere thought of that pig’s hands on her only made my blood boil.
“Tell Sokolov that the girl is not for sale,” I said to the man. “She is off-limits. Is that clear?”
He nodded. “Crystal.”
“Now, get out.”
He didn’t waste another second before rushing to the door. Sergei didn’t leave immediately; he just stood there, watching me seethe in silence. I could sense his curiosity as he wondered whether the girl was starting to mean something to me.
Quietly, he too headed out, leaving me alone with my rage.
This young woman had become valuable in waysshedidn’t even understand. I had no idea what Sokolov wanted with her or how he had learned of her presence in my mansion. But one thing was certain: I would never let him lay a finger on her, let alone claim her as his own.
She belonged to me and me alone.
Beneath the iron shell of my rage, I could feel the truth pressing harder than ever. This young woman wasn’t just a weapon for my vengeance anymore.
No.
She was gradually becoming something more than that, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
Chapter 11 – Scarlett
This place, as gorgeous and gigantic as it was, had no life. The people here were like machines, loyal to their boss—domestic staff and the guards. They bowed their heads whenever he moved past them.
Fear or reverence?
Whatever it was, it meant one thing: My jailer had some sort of control over them. Of course, he did; he was a powerful man, capable of ending anyone’s life with a snap of his fingers.
What I hadn’t wrapped my head around was how a monster like him could have such an amazing staff with pure hearts. His maids, the housekeeper, and the chef were the only people in this whole building who treated me like a human being.
At first, I was skeptical about their closeness to me, but as time went on, I realized the only threat here was my jailer. Not them. They were just regular human beings like me.
Yesterday, I spent almost two hours with Nikki and Natasha in my room. They’d come to clean the place when one thing led to another, and we got talking.
I used to think the two girls were sisters. But yesterday, I realized they weren’t even related at all—except for the fact that they were both Russian.
The accent was strong when they spoke, and when they smiled, it reached the ears—raw and genuine. Nikki was like me in more ways than one. She was quiet and reserved, with short blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes.
Natasha, on the other hand, was the wild one. Her personality was the exact opposite of Nikki’s. She was loud when she wanted to be, funny as hell, and so full of life. She was beautiful. Whenever she smiled, her green eyes crinkled atthe corners. Her long black hair was always pulled back into a ponytail, with a few strands framing her face.
Both girls kept me company yesterday, reminding me of what it felt like to have people around. For the first time since I arrived here, I had fun, smiling and laughing for almost two hours.
The crazy part was that we never spoke about my jailer or anything related to the fact that I was a prisoner here.
I couldn’t understand why these girls worked for such a monster. They were still young—no older than I was—still had their whole lives ahead of them. Why limit themselves to working for this mean man?
However, this was a question for another time because before I could bring it up, we were interrupted by a knock on my door. It was another maid, Monica. She greeted me politely and then turned to the two girls, telling them the boss’s car had just pulled into the courtyard.
