6. Jasmine

Chapter six

Jasmine

I awaken in a state of disorientation, snuggled into unfamiliar sheets that offer warmth and comfort. My body is riddled with aches and pains, similar to what I would feel after a long night of dancing at the club, but this time it's different.

I left Andrew Green there to die. I've committed murder.

The weight of this realisation crushes down on me like a boulder. No amount of running or starting afresh can erase the fact that I have taken a human life.

And now, the ruthless mafia is on my trail, seeking revenge for the death I caused. It's only a matter of time before they catch up to me and deliver their own brand of justice. Just like that, my life has been turned upside down, there's no going back from the consequences of my actions.

Is there a chance they will show mercy and spare my life in exchange for fulfilling this old man's desires ?

The term "old man" feels harsh, but he must be twice my age, or at least nearing it. A silver fox, with greying hair that hints at a lifetime of wisdom and experience. A dangerous combination of allure and danger.

I can't help but marvel at the luxurious house before me, paid for by a man who can clearly afford such opulence. It makes me wonder if it is finally time to shed my virgin label and repay him for his kindness. Being a virgin has always been a barrier in my life, setting impossibly high standards for any potential partner. But now, with this man and his lavish lifestyle, I couldn't imagine a better opportunity.

Even with everything that happened last night, I still want to lie here and smile. The bed feels fresh, and the room is bright and airy.

I sink into the crisp, clean sheets and feel the weight of my body melt into the plush mattress. This bed is a stark contrast to my old single one back home - small, lumpy, and constantly reminding me of my struggles. But here, I can let go and just be. It may have been purchased with tainted money, but right now, it's pure bliss. At home, I would immediately jump up and start my never-ending routine of cleaning before rushing off to work. But at this moment, I am free from all of that. Is this my chance to break away from the mundane?

I sit up and let my gaze wander around the room, taking in every detail. The walls are a pristine shade of ivory, with intricate moulding along the edges. Sunlight streams through the windows, casting warm, golden hues across the plush carpeted floor. Last night, I had been too exhausted to appreciate the beauty of this room, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep before I could even process my emotions. In the morning light, it's hard to feel upset in such a luxurious bedroom.

In one corner, there is a door that leads to what I can only assume is a bathroom. A glimmer of hope sparks within me as I realise I won't have to leave this sanctuary to take care of my basic needs. Needs I didn't meet last night.

I push myself off the bed and make my way over to the door, opening it slowly to reveal a pristine white bathroom with gleaming marble countertops and a large jacuzzi tub. My spirits lift even further at the sight of such luxury, and I eagerly slip inside to revel in the experience for a few moments longer.

As I creep through the room, my heart races with adrenaline. Despite being alone, I can feel eyes on me, imaginary spies that fuel this forbidden mission. The shower in front of me is a monolith of luxury, adorned with multiple shower heads, angled in every direction to cover the entire space. A mischievous thought flits through my mind - could one of these nozzles provide some naughty stimulation while I cleanse my hair? But then I scold myself for such thoughts - it's time to shed this virginity nonsense and embrace my desires without guilt or shame.

After stepping out of the warm, steamy shower, I wrap myself in a fluffy, oversized towel. I take a moment to admire my reflection in the mirror, noticing how the beads of water cling to my skin and rivulets run down my body. As I dry off, I return to my room, cocooned in the cosy towel. That's when I spot the note on the bedside table.

Join me downstairs for breakfast. My home is yours for as long as you remain under my protection .

At first, I felt a wave of gratitude towards this stranger for protecting me. As soon as that emotion subsides, anger takes its place at the demanding invitation to join him for breakfast. Not wanting to seem too eager or compliant, I consider refusing but my stomach growls, reminding me that I skipped dinner last night and breakfast sounds tempting.

I rummage through my bag for something decent to wear, regretting not packing anything more flattering. All I have are baggy joggers and old hoodies. Oh well, practicality over fashion in this situation.

"Priorities, Jasmine," I mutter to myself with a wry smile before heading downstairs in search of breakfast.

A sense of unease gnaws at me as I wander through the empty house, my mind consumed with worries about how I will be seen in this unfamiliar environment. Shouldn't I be focusing on the fact that I will now be "taken care of" by Zane? But then again, what does that even mean? Zane's vague promises of future safety offer little comfort and leave me wondering if he has any real control over my fate. After all, if the cartel wants me dead, how long can this man really keep me safe?

As I silently make my way down the corridor, every detail of the house catches my eye. The tasteful decor and impeccable cleanliness speak to a level of wealth and sophistication that is both impressive and unsettling. And yet, for all its opulence, there is a loneliness that lingers in the air. What kind of person could live in such luxury but remain single? God, I hope he's single. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

Finally reaching the kitchen, I can't help but imagine a trail of heartbroken women left in Zane's wake. Is he incapable of love or simply uninterested? Either way, it doesn't bode well for my own future in his care.

Zane looks up from the kitchen breakfast bar and greets me with a smile. His crisp white dress shirt and tailored suit are a stark contrast to my lazy appearance in a cosy tracksuit and bare feet.

"Good morning, kitten," his voice is smooth like melted chocolate. I can't help but grin back at him.

"Morning," I reply, sitting on the bar stool across from him.

"Coffee?" Zane asks, already reaching for the sleek coffee machine.

I felt a surge of gratitude towards this man who knew my needs before I even did. "How did you know I'm a coffee girl?" I ask, trying to conceal my true dependence on caffeine to function in the mornings.

The luxurious surroundings don't make me yearn for him; instead, I feel a twinge of envy for everything I never had. Could I endure living in this house to save myself? The answer is yes. Giving up my nights spent dancing in the club would be a necessary sacrifice, especially if it meant escaping Dez and the demanding customers.

As we stand in the kitchen, he gestures towards the counter, which is cluttered with various coffee-making tools. "Your kitchen counter was full of coffee stuff," he remarks with a wry smile. "But you'll appreciate this; it's freshly ground."

The aroma of the beans fills the air as he passes me a steaming mug. Despite not being an expert in the art of coffee making, I savour every sip, knowing that it has taken so much to reach this moment.

"I need to ask you-" I begin tentatively. But before I can finish my sentence, he cuts me off with a firm shake of his head.

"No," he decides firmly. "We have the entire day ahead of us to sort things out. For now, you need to focus on having a good, hearty breakfast and getting that caffeine pumping through your bloodstream."

With his reassurance, I'll be able to relax and enjoy breakfast, feeling grateful for his presence and support. "Afterwards," he continues, "we can head into my office and plan your next move."

With a sigh, I reluctantly agree. This coffee is far too luxurious to be gulped down.

"I have cereal, or I can whip up some eggs and bacon for you. It's my favourite way to greet the morning," Zane offers with a thin smile. But behind his cheerful fa?ade, a lingering hint of darkness sends shivers down my spine.

"Eggs and bacon it is then," I reply, determined to push away any unsettling thoughts and focus on enjoying the meal.

Zane stands from his seat and begins cooking the bacon, expertly flipping each strip until they are perfectly crispy. Then he moves on to the eggs, cracking them into a hot pan and seasoning them just right. As I watch him move around the kitchen with ease, I can't help but wonder how many times he's cooked this breakfast, going through this routine for other women. He may be the consigliere of a ruthless mafia lord, but there is more to him than meets the eye. His layers run deep, hiding secrets and complexities that I couldn't have imagined before.

Despite my initial assumptions, Zane is not devoid of personality. In fact, his enigmatic demeanour only adds to his allure. There is no denying that I am drawn to this man in ways I never thought possible.