Chapter 5: Afanasy

I sat on a plush sofa, cradling myself in its softness, my eyes fixed on the innocent young woman lying asleep across from me.

Her slow, steady breaths filled the room with a soothing rhythm that prompted my mouth to twitch into a small smile as I drank in her serene beauty.

The rising sun cast a gentle glow that filtered in through the curtains, illuminating her peaceful form.

I swiped a palm over my face. With my legs crossed, one ankle resting on the other in a confident pose, my gaze swept across serene features. My eyes traced the gentle curve of her lips, watching her chest rise and fall in a soft, steady motion.

Her eyelids fluttered but didn't open. Instead, she let out a gentle groan, instinctively hugging a comfy pillow. Her lips parted a little as if whispering secrets in her sleep. Her hair—long, dark, and wavy—cascaded like a waterfall across the pillow, framing her baby face.

The sun's gentle glow danced over her dark locks, casting subtle highlights that seemed to simmer in the lights.

My eyes roamed her gorgeous body, tracing her delicate curves as her form stretched across the bed.

Usually, I kept my prisoners in a dark cell in the basement to amplify their fear before I began whatever I had in mind for them. But she was a pretty one, and she didn't belong down there. Besides, my quarrel was with her father, not her.

The guest room had seemed like the perfect place befitting for a beautiful woman as such herself.

A smirk played on my lips as I recalled the night before: the fear in her eyes and how she’d frozen as I approached her. The way she'd sprinted through the alley like her life depended on it was quite hilarious. She was perceptive enough to have sensed my presence even before a twig snapped beneath my feet.

Impressive.

I’d deliberately rustled the bushes, signaling my presence after the snapping twig had caught her attention. I wanted her to sense the danger lurking in the shadows—to feel the thrill of being watched. I allowed her a glimpse of my imposing form in the darkness, inflicting her with a breathtaking terror.

I’d reveled in her sudden tension, finding solace in her fidgeting form and her heightened awareness. The hunt was on, and the thrill of the chase coursed through my blood.

It had been far too long since I indulged in the raw thrill of hands-on operation. I'd missed the calculated manipulation, the precision of the hunt—the rush of adrenaline—and it all came flooding back.

My reacquaintance with its dark allure filled me with sinister satisfaction. Maybe I should do this more often.

Her loud gasps, laced with fear, yanked me out of my thoughts, stealing my attention. My eyes settled on her as she jerked, struggling to sit up. The comfy bed creaked beneath her weight as she shifted, her body shuddering, gaze flashing with apprehension.

I arched my brows, amused by her reaction.

Her manicured hands grasped the sheets as if seeking an anchor, her forehead creating deep creases. “Who are you? Where am I?” she demanded, her brown eyes shooting wild glances across the luxurious interior.

My gaze never wavered as I looked beyond the fear and anxiety plastered over her baby face. Her innocence warmed my heart, and I remained silent, drinking in her beauty.

She was even prettier now—the sun's gentle glow dancing across her face, her porcelain skin simmering in daylight. Her eyes, wide with terror, shone with desperate intensity as a faint flush on her cheek accentuated her agitation.

Even in distress, her elegance still bloomed like a flower in a harsh environment, her unmistakable beauty undiminished by fear.

Her voice trembled, chest heaving rapidly as she held my gaze, accusation and horror flickering in her eyes. “Are…are you…the man from the alley?” she stuttered, pulling away to rest her back against the headboard. “Have I been kidnapped?”

“Too many questions, Jesus!” I rubbed my forehead, letting out an exasperated groan. “Are you always this inquisitive?” My gaze lingered.

“When I'm afraid…yes,” she replied, her voice dropping to almost a whisper.

“That was a rhetorical question, but whatever,” I muttered, uncrossing my legs, the sofa crunching beneath me as I leaned forward, eyes pinned on her. “And yes, you've been kidnapped,” came my blunt reply.

Her brows furrowed, and her head shook subtly as confusion settled over her features. “Wh–why? I'm a nobody who always minds her business. Why would you kidnap me?” The words burst out of her in a frantic rush, and she cast me a pleading look.

I rose my brows, taken aback by her low self-esteem. Why would she consider herself a nobody?

“Wren, is it?” I asked, my gaze unwavering.

“Yes,” she replied, her tone sharp and fearful.

“My God, you really don't understand rhetorical questions, do you?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, a soft sigh escaping my lips.

“I'm sorry, I get like that when I'm nervous,” she said, her eyes roaming over my form.

“It's not you I'm after, Wren.” I locked eyes with her. “It's your father.”

“My father?” She pulled back her head, squinting. “What has he done this time?” A faint scowl flashed across her face.

Her words hinted at the fact that this wasn't the first time the man was getting himself in trouble. Well, this was his first time getting in trouble with me, and it wasn’t going to be business as usual for him. No.

He'd feel the heat and eventually get burned for playing with fire. I'd make sure of that.

My expression hardened within the next second, my jaw tightening as I cast a deadly stare at her. “Your father owes the Bratva a sum of $500,000.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and her jaw dropped. The amount must have struck her like a powerful blow. “Five hundred thousand?” she whispered under her breath, breaking eye contact with me.

“You’re not going anywhere, Wren, until your father pays up every single cent he owes the Bratva,” I growled, my voice low and menacing as I leaned closer, my scowl deepening.

She raised her head, her eyes wide with fear as they locked on mine. Her lips trembled at the frown etched on my face, her breath lodging in her throat as my words hung in the air like a deadly promise.

“The longer he takes, the longer you remain trapped here, and once my patience wears thin….” I clicked my tongue, my voice dropping to a haunting whisper. “I can't guarantee your fate.”

Her baby face paled at my words and the seriousness they carried. She swallowed hard, her throat wobbling.

She hesitated for a moment, struggling to steady her breathing. “I…I don't know how he managed to owe that amount.” She shook her head, pleading with her eyes. “But I can assure you, he can't pay it back. He doesn't have that kind of money.”

I drew a deep breath, reclining on the sofa, fingers toiling with my cufflinks. “Well, that's a shame. If he can't pay it, then I'll be forced to honor our contract.” I jerked my eyes at her.

She squinted, her forehead creasing. “What do you mean?”

“You see, when your father took the money, he signed a contract which stipulated that failure to repay on time would mean he'd become our property…that we'd do to him whatever we deemed fit,” I explained, my voice devoid of empathy. “He knew the terms when he took the money.”

She shook her head, her brows knitting together to mirror the disbelief flickering in her eyes. “Wh…what will you do to him?” she stuttered.

“I haven't made up my mind yet.” My expression turned cold, calculating, as I sought comfort in the ideas my head cooked up. “For starters, we can harvest his organs, sell them on the black market, and I'm sure we'll make double the money he owes us.” A deadly smirk played on my lips.

Her face contorted in horror, eyes misting as she slid off the bed. “No, please, you can't do that!”

“Oh, but I can. And I will,” I replied, my tone low and dripping with assurance.

Wren sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. She clasped her hands together in desperation. “Please, sir…” she begged, crawling to my feet, her teary eyes never leaving my face. “Don't hurt him. I'll…I'll get the money—just gimme a few days. I'll raise it, I promise.” The words, laced with franticness, tumbled out of her quivering lips.

My brows rose in surprise at how she thought she could pull that off within a few days. Her naivety and her love for her father were admirable, but he was already a lost cause.

“You're gonna raise $500,000 in a few days?” I chuckled, my eyes flashing with amusement.

She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor. She knew it was impossible but was somehow at least willing to give it a shot.

“I'll do anything to raise that money; just please, don't hurt him. He's the only family I have left. I'm begging you, sir.” She wept, jerking her eyes toward me.

I'd done my research on Harrison Everett—the man who had abandoned his own daughter after his wife's passing. That gambling drunk was undeserving of Wren's love and devotion.

The innocent girl was naive—oblivious to the fact that she was just a pawn in her father's game of debt and desperation.

“As curious as I am to see how you're gonna raise the money in a few days…” I let out a soft groan, rising to my feet, “I just can't.” My expression turned cold in a heartbeat, eyes narrowing as I took menacing steps forward.

Wren crab-walked backward, her breath hitched in her throat and her teary eyes locked on me with terror flickering in their depths.

“You're not going anywhere until your father returns with my money,” I declared, my tone an intimidating growl.

She blinked rapidly as if trying to fight her tears.

I lowered myself to her level, my fingers slowly combing through her soft, dark hair. Her body trembled in reaction to my touch.

Leaning closer, I whispered, “You're my little prisoner, Wren Everett, which means starting now, you'll do as I say, when I say it, and how I say it.” I withdrew my hand, my gaze unwavering. “Do you understand?”

She nodded quickly, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

“Good.” My face softened, and I rose back to my feet. “Don't blame me for your present predicament.” I adjusted my coat and headed out. “Blame your father.”

Chapter 6 – Wren

The Russian Mafia? You've really outdone yourself on this one, Dad. What were you thinking? I thought, rubbing my eyes, absentmindedly pacing across the room.

I knew he was a reckless gambler, but I didn't think he'd be this reckless, enough to get in bed with a mafia gang. Let alone the Russians. Now, they were looking for him, using me as bait to lure him out of whatever hole he'd crawled into.

How could he have been so stupid?

He’d signed away his freedom when he accepted that money, and what in the name of God did he need $500,000 for?

“Jesus Christ, Dad, are you that far gone?” I muttered, my fingers combing through my dark hair.

My mind was flooded with a myriad of thoughts that wouldn't let me sleep or think properly. This anxiety was slowly killing me, and to make matters worse, I wasn't allowed to leave the house.

A good walk down to the park would help clear my mind at this point. But my captor had made it pretty clear that I could only roam around the house—not beyond.

As worried as I was about Dad, I couldn't stop wondering why he’d needed that kind of money. What was he so desperate to solve with that amount? I knew he didn't use the money to make his life less miserable because he was still the same manipulative man with a drinking addiction and gambling problem.

Maybe he was in trouble and used the loan from the Bratva to get out of that trouble, only to find himself facing off against a bigger monster.

If Dad hadn't thrown his life away, his career, and his will to live, $500,000 would've been a piece of cake. He would have raised the money in a few days—hell, he wouldn't have ever had to borrow that amount, to begin with.

It was hard to remember him as the bank manager that he used to be—an honest one whose integrity preceded him.

While in his prime, he'd bag awards whenever his bank organized such events. Dad used to be a respectable man, loved and adored by many. He had a promising career and was quickly rising up the ranks as a result of his diligence and hard work.

Dad had been up for a promotion that would've shifted his social and financial status: regional manager.

Sadly, Mom had passed away a week before his big win, and he damned everything and everyone. He threw his career away, tossed his life out the window, and ignored his only daughter for years.

Mom would be disappointed in him, in the man he'd become—the path he'd chosen to deal with his grief. She'd be crying in her grave, wishing she could speak some sense into her once amazing husband.

Dad's glory days were over.

Now, he was just a drinking gambler, and he'd added “debtor” to the list.

I felt a cold shiver run through my body as the thought of Dad being captured and dissected flashed in my mind.

I shook my head, as if trying physically to shake the thoughts off.

With my palms cupping my face, I sank into a plush sofa, the rich scent of my captor's cologne invading my senses. He hadn't properly introduced himself, and I wasn't sure if he was even supposed to. This was my first time being kidnapped, so everything was new to me, alien.

However, “Afanasy” was a name I’d picked up from a maid's furtive whisper while she had a discreet conversation with two others.

Yesterday, I’d been walking around the mansion when I stumbled upon this cluster of women talking with hushed voices.

Basically, they were gossiping—there was no better way to say it. I wasn't sure what it was about, but I sure knew they weren't comfortable when they saw me.

I hadn’t been eavesdropping or anything; it just so happened that their whispers reached me unintentionally.

Their hushed chats had ceased the moment they realized that I was around the corner. Our eyes locked, and I felt the unease oozing out of them. They avoided my gaze, flashing awkward smiles before dematerializing in several directions.

I had my own problems to worry about, hence the reason I didn't register their conversation or give it much thought. Their gossip was irrelevant.

A couple of days had gone by, and I hadn't caught a glimpse of Afanasy—the handsome and enigmatic man who'd held me prisoner in his mansion.

I felt a pang of guilt gnawing at my mind, questioning my thoughts about him. It seemed traitorous and even blasphemous that I, a prisoner, considered my jailer handsome and attractive.

Yet, the truth lingered despite my reservations—the man was unmistakably gorgeous.

His tall, masculine physique and athletic build commanded attention, exuding confidence, power, wealth, and strength. His chiseled face, which seemed carved from granite, was framed by his slightly tousled, dirty blond hair.

Afanasy's rugged charm and quick wit were shocking and quite surprising, considering his position in the mafia. I'd expected him to be more hardened, with a signature stern expression, but he defied my expectations.

However, despite his charisma and subtle humor, I knew he was a monster beneath the surface. He seemed dedicated to the Bratva cause, and he'd do despicable things to anyone who stood in his way.

As charming and alluring as his piercing green eyes were, they hid in their depths shadows of the darkness.

Those magnetic eyes masked the tales of the men he'd sent beyond the graves, their ghosts lingering deep behind the mask.

His perfect blend of ice and fire made him more terrifying than my darkest suspicion. The man would be difficult to read. It'd be almost impossible to predict his next move, and that made him dangerous.

Everything about Afanasy screamed trouble. He was bad news, and I feared for my dad's safety now that he'd pissed him off.

Dad had Afanasy's full attention, and that was terrible. If he knew the plans he had in store for him, he'd hustle the money, and fast.

But how? Dad didn't have that amount.

Hunger pangs struck, and my stomach growled, my hands instinctively flying over it. I jerked my head at the wall clock. It was time for my daily ration.

Since my arrival, I'd limited myself to eating once a day, and somehow, the maids had picked up on my feeding timetable.

They had deduced that I would always come downstairs at 3:00 in the afternoon to look for something to eat. So, they decided to make stuff easy for me.

Recently, each time I descended to the lower floor at this particular time of the day, a meal awaited me at the dining table.

I took a quick glance at my reflection in the mirror—my hollowed-out eyes roaming this thinner version of myself. My collarbones seemed prominent, my jawline subtly sharper, and my cheeks were sunken.

I was losing weight.

Why wouldn’t I? I barely ate, barely slept, and I spent so much time thinking—brooding and crying most nights.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I headed out the door, my stomach growling in protest.

Afanasy was barely around, and as relieving as that was, it still had its downside—being that I was left in the dark about my father's situation.

As I descended the stairs, the house was silent, with no sign of Afanasy or the maids, even though I was certain that the latter were scattered around the mansion.

I headed to the dining table, discreetly savoring the sweet aroma that wafted through the air. Despite my current situation, I couldn't deny the fact that Afanasy's chef was an excellent cook.

Pulling back a chair, I took my seat at the table, uncovering the silver lid of a plate to reveal my meal. Today, it was a cheeseburger and some crispy fries. My stomach growled in anticipation at this mouthwatering sight as I picked up my cutlery.

In silence, I ate, savoring each bite, the amazing flavors exploding on my tongue. Deep down, I appreciated the chef's cooking and wished that I could meet her under different circumstances. I'd rain praises on her for making such delicious meals that catapulted me to a realm free from the harshness of my reality.

Once done, I dabbed my mouth with a napkin and headed back upstairs, my fingers gliding along the polished handrail.

From the head of the steps, I could hear a melody that I'd missed before, and as I walked through the empty hallway, it grew louder.

Was I so hungry that I was momentarily deaf to this classical music?

But it wasn't just the music; there was something in the background—a low, throaty humming that vibrated through the notes. This sensual panting, a tantalizing whisper, invaded the melody, sending tremors down my spine.

I paused in my tracks, eyes wildly darting across the hallway to make sure no one was watching me. “Mind your business, girl,” I cautioned myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just head back to your room.”

A cry of rapturous pleasure rose above the music, catching my attention, “Ah, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!”

My eyes widened at the unbridled sound of ecstasy that sent shivers down my spine, drawing me in with its raw intensity.

I traced the honeyed sound to a door slightly ajar, inviting my curiosity. I tried to resist, but the woman's intoxicating moans seemed to draw me in like a moth to a flame.

Cautiously, I glanced around one more time to confirm that I was alone in the hallway. With a heavy sigh, I decided to feast my eyes, to add a face to the sweet voice that had me captivated.

My steps were silent against the floor as I tiptoed to the door, daring to peep through the narrow gap.

In an instant, my brows arched at the sight unfolding before me, my heart pounding in my chest. A sudden bout of heat crept into my body, stealing my breath and leaving me glued to this erotic sight.

Tension jolted through my veins, my eyes widening as I watched Afanasy plunge into a naked woman bent over on her knees, her hip positioned in front of his groin.

She gripped the sheets beneath her, her moderately sized breasts bouncing back and forth as her cries blended with the music.

I watched her body tremble, her nipples grazing over the pillow beneath her. She dug her face into the sheets, fingers gripping them tightly.

One thing was certain: He was drowning in ecstasy. For some reason, I felt a tingling sensation between my legs.

Subtly, I pulled my thighs together in reaction to the erotic feeling coursing through my blood.

I bit my lower lip, hypnotized by this wild sight; it was like watching porn, but in real life. I tried to tear my gaze off them, but I couldn't. Instead, my eyes settled on Afanasy, and immediately, my heart burned with something that felt like desire.

He was equally naked, but from this angle, I could only view his body from the waist up, and it was an amazing sight.

I'd beat myself up later for drooling over his masculinity, but in the meantime, I was lost in a sea of fantasy, eyes drinking in his gorgeous form.

His chiseled torso held my gaze for a moment before my eyes roamed his bare chest, lusting over his impressive physique.

I swallowed, watching as a single strand of sweat streamed down, tracing the contours of his torso. His abs formed a rigid grid, the lines between them deepening as his waist narrowed.

He grabbed a handful of the woman's hair and pulled on it like a rein, forcing her head to jerk. She giggled, sticking out her tongue, her eyes locked to his. Afanasy lowered his face, taking her tongue in his mouth.

Deep down, I envied this woman; she seemed to be having such a good time. Her delicious moans and writhing body were a testament to how much she was enjoying this.

Sadly, I couldn't relate to how she was feeling. I'd never even kissed a guy before, let alone gotten laid.

I was still a virgin. But this was my little secret

Watching them was so hot—I could feel the heat swelling within me, and my thighs wouldn't stop pressing together, a feeble attempt to contain this growing sensation. A spark of electricity surged through my body, my core vibrating.

I was so lost in my own fantasies, overwhelmed by pleasure, that I didn't notice his gaze until I met his eyes.

Instinctively, my palm flew to my mouth as if to hold back the flood of embarrassment threatening to burst out. My heart sank into my chest, the smirk on his face stealing my breath away.

I backed away from the door, my chest heaving rapidly at the anxiety pulsating within me.

Without a moment of hesitation, I sprang to my feet, my footsteps pounding against the floor as I ran across the hallway.

The guest room door burst open, and I stormed inside, shutting it behind me. I locked the door with a swift motion, my back resting against it.

My breathing was labored, heavy with embarrassment, as I placed a palm over my heaving chest.

The back of my head grazed the door with a gentle bump.

“Shit.”