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.”