London
Darkness. Total darkness.
That's the feeling you get when your life is coming to a complete end.
All I feel is a soul crushing dark void.
A void that threatens to swallow me whole.
Ever since Dad told me — commanded me, to marry Ramsey Mikhailov, a wet blanket has fallen over my world.
I've dreamt of freedom for as long as I can remember. Dad promised me my freedom by the time I turn twenty. I've dreamt of walking barefoot on an open beach, travelling, seeing new places — meeting new people.
Now all those dreams seem so far away. In another life.
I looked up Ramsey Mikhailov after Dad and his two faced P.A. roused me from my fainting feat and explained to me that getting married to this total stranger is my best option — my only option, if I want to stay alive.
But just like the Blackstone guy, there's no information on him on the net. Nothing. Nada. I do not even know what he looks like and I'm getting married to this man in two days.
The preparations for the wedding are being done hush hush and I cannot deny how hard Dad has been working lately to ensure that everything comes out perfect.
I think the halls are too tastefully decorated for a wedding that would have less than ten people, minus the ridiculous number of guards in attendance. But apparently, I'm getting married into a Mafia family and according to Dad, they're sticklers for perfection.
I've been constantly avoiding the fact that I am indeed getting married to a Made man. I've read about the Mafia, especially the Russian Mafia. They're horrible people. Criminals. They murder people and torture children for their sick, sadistic pleasure. Why on Earth would father want to get his only daughter married to one of those monsters? Why can't he just find another powerful family without relations to all manner of crimes to marry me off to? I am not just afraid of the Mafia in general, I hate them, period. Father tells me that his only connection to the Mafia is through a business contract he had signed unknowingly with this Blackstone guy. According to him, Blackstone wanted more money than was agreed in the contract and he began sending threat messages to my Dad a few weeks ago. Dad says he called his bluff until he murdered one of his men in cold blood.
This is all his fault. The wedding, the constant guarding, the fact that I might never get my freedom— it is all Blackstone's fault. My life is slowly coming to an end because of him. I might be living in a gilded cage for the rest of my life because of that greedy monster.
I do not even know the guy but he has already succeeded in ruining my life.
I hate him.
I hate him with every fiber of my being.
Hot, angry tears roll down my cheeks and I wipe them away with a flick of my finger. I've been crying for most of the week. I will not shed anymore tears for that bastard.
My room doors swing open and Yulia comes in with a basket full of what looks like beauty products. I have been pampered and primed to within an inch of my life already. Father spares no expenses, making sure we visit the best spas and beauty homes to get me ready for the wedding.
A marriage of doom that is going down on my birthday.
I sigh dejectedly. "curse you, Blackstone." I mutter to myself.
"What are doing sitting on the windowsill with that gloomy look?" Yulia asks.
She sets her basket on the dresser and pats the stool.
"Come. Sit. Your hair looks a mess. It needs to be straightened out before your Father comes calling."
I trudge heavily to the dresser and plop down on the stool.
"I do not understand why everyone expects me to act like everything is okay when a death threat hangs over all our heads and I'm about to be married off to some high class, Russian criminal. It is such a thing of joy, right Yulia?"
Yulia lowers her eyes and begins to detangle my heavy, black tresses with a wide toothed comb.
"Sarcasm does not suit you, miss. And it won't help in this situation either."
Well, my blood is boiling and I need to vent to someone.
"Educate me then, Yulia dearest. What exactly do we need in this situation?"
I'm being a bitch, I know. But I cannot help it. I'm annoyed.
Yulia makes a show of combing my hair, making sure her gaze remains lowered. Then it strikes me.
"You know more than you're letting on Yulia, don't you? Come to think of it. You acted like you know who Blackstone and Mikhailov are back at Dad's office the other day, Yulia. How come? What do you know that I don't?"
Yulia's beautiful aqua eyes darken and she clamps her teeth over her lower lip. A gesture she only shows when she's nervous.
I decide there and then to push more of her buttons. I'm hungry for information and I do not see any other person coming up to answer my questions.
"Now that I think about it, I barely even know you. What's your last name? Where did you come from? How do you even know so much about the Mafia? Who's the person you've been calling late at night with that burner phone?"
Yulia's eyes widen and I know I've just landed a jackpot. I chose to overlook the fact that Yulia has been having secret, late night phone conversations on a little burner phone with some stranger for the past few years.
She obviously thought I was oblivious. I chalked it up to an estranged lover or family member but turns out, lots of secrets have been kept from me already and my damn hackles are rising.
"H..how did you know about that?" She whispers.
I narrow my eyes, trying to look as intimidating as possible. I will probably hate myself for this later but...here goes nothing.
"How I found out does not matter, Yulia. What matters is that you answer my questions. And don't you even dare lie to me!"
Yulia recoils at my sharp tone. She drops the comb on the dresser and it lands with a startling 'clang!'
She grabs hold of my shoulders in a biting grip and flashes very angry eyes at me through the mirror.
"I do not know anything, got it? I don't know anything!" She screams.
Holy fucking shit!
In all the years I've known Yulia, I've never seen her loose her temper. She's screaming like a banshee.
The door flies open and Dad, followed by three of his men barge in. He takes one look at my shocked eyes and Yulia's grip on my shoulders and begins issuing orders. I do not miss the dark look that crosses his features and the way Yulia practically tries to cower under my arm, away from him.
What the fuck is going on?
"Get that crazy woman away from my daughter immediately!"
The men advance towards us and pick Yulia up, one on each of her sides. Yulia screams profanities at them, struggling in their grip.
My brain finally kicks into motion and I realise that Yulia might be punished and it would be all my fault.
"No, Dad. Stop!" I scream.
Everyone stills. Four pairs of startled eyes are suddenly turned on me.
"Yulia did not do anything wrong. I did. I pushed her and she freaked out. This," I add, waving a hand at the room, "Is all my fault."
Dad walks over, takes my hand in his and begins parting me all over in search of injuries.
"Are you listening to me, Dad. I'm absolutely fine. Please let Yulia go."
"Are you sure, sweetheart?" He finally asks
"Of course, Dad"
I hold my breath, praying he actually listens to me.
He finally heaves a sigh, motioning to his men with raised fingers.
"Fine. Let her go."
They let go of Yulia and she leaves the room, her head bowed.
Dad kisses me on the cheek softly before leaving with his men.
"Come find me if you need anything, princess."
"Sure Dad."
Then he shuts the door with a low click.
Alot of crazy things have been happening lately.
First, Thelma just up and disappeared. Then Dad starts acting strange. Now Yulia is keeping secrets?
Who the hell is Blackstone and why is he so hell-bent on ruining our lives?
How can I harbour such hate for a total stranger?
My alarm clock chimes, startling me from my game of twenty questions. I pick it up.
"Shit!"
Marcus and I had planned a little evening rendezvous for our last night together. Just like me, he's upset about the marriage but we're totally helpless to stop it now.
It is going to be a fun night.
We intend to visit as many places as we can and still get me back home before dawn. Just in time for Yulia's morning checks and my last bridal fitting.
For a treat, he's taking me to the Blue Diamond, the most expensive hotel in London. I read it has an actual blue diamond on the roof!
This hangout appears to be the only bright spot in my already dark day.
I ruffle through numerous cloth filled hangers in my walk in closet. What the hell is a girl supposed to wear for her bachelorette party?
Deciding to go for bold and daring, I select a blue, velvet, off the shoulder wrap dress.
Dad had gotten the sexy piece for me on one of his business trips to Russia, much to my surprise.
The dress is Dolce and Gabana.
What better way to launch it than the celebration of my last night as an unmarried youth?
I look through my endless rows of shoes, finally settling for nude coloured thigh high boots. The fashionable Louboutins, another birthday present from Dad, would go beautifully with my dress.
I ruffle through my underwear drawer, bypassing boxes and boxes of expensive bra and panty sets until I locate my favourite Victoria Secrets Black bra and panties box.
I cannot deny that there's something about expensive underwear that makes me feel like a super woman. I don the bra and panties then settle on the dresser stool to do my makeup.
Running fingers through my thick mass of curly hair, I suddenly wish Yulia was here to help me out . She always knows how to deal with the stubborn curls. I heave a sigh, applying a bit of mascara and smoky eye shadow. I add a gentle swipe of nude lipstick and I'm done.
I sit back to admire my handiwork in the mirror. My sim was the subtle but chic, bad girl look. It appears I've succeeded.
I step into my boots and dress, zipping the delicate material gently. Turning towards floor to ceiling mirrors that take up almost half of one wall, I can barely recognise my self. I look... different.
I've always been petite. My breasts and ass are heavier and rounder than most girls my age and my waist is almost non-existent. Yulia and Thelma usually tease me ruthlessly for having what they call, 'thick thighs'. It is safe to say I'm naturally voluptuous.
For the last attire, I don an ankle length black coat. More to protect my outfit from being seen when I'm sneaking out than to protect myself from the chilly night air.
I sit back on the dresser stool, counting the minutes until Dad's night guards make their last round for the evening and I can finally sneak out for my last night of freedom.
**************
New York.
As soon as our plane takes off and the pilot gives us the all clear, I summon my men to the control room.
This may be our biggest mission yet.
The plan is simple. Get in and get out.
I spread the blue prints of Romanov's mansion on the round table that takes up almost half of the floor space of the room. Lights from the large screens on the paneled walls illuminate the detailed drawings. Ricardo and I have spent hours studying every single detail of the blue print. I can almost make my way round the mansion with my eyes closed.
"Remember your positions," I begin, flicking a glance at their serious expressions.
"John, Henry, you both are in charge of elimination of all guards on the west wing. O'Brien and Dallas are in charge of the south wing of the mansion. Ricardo will launch his attacks from the East wing. Apparently, that's where the suite of offices is located. I will be coming in from the main gates, groom duties. My mask will be on so Romanov will not recognise me. Not immediately, at least."
"Remember the voice transmitter, boss." Ricardo cuts in.
"Of course. I'll put that on on my way there."
I'll be wearing a special voice transmitter, designed by technological professionals of the Familia. Not only does it make me sound exactly like Ramsey – Russian accents and all, it contains an expertly hidden weapon. A laser that shoots highly radioactive waves with the power to go through flesh and melt bones with just one shot.
From the outside, it looks like a normal voice transmitter. But fashioned on the inside is a late model murder weapon. The American Police have already paid millions to have the first batch shipped to their force.
"I'll be accompanied by twelve men," I continue, ""Ricardo, you're in charge of our arsenal. Make sure all our weapons are fully loaded and ready to go."
"Roger that, boss." Ricardo replies.
I look sternly at all my men.
"The wedding will be conducted at the main hall. I need all of Romanov's guards out before the priest begins reading the marriage vows. Kill anyone, and I mean anyone that stands in my way but leave Romanov and his daughter to me. I expect that fucking mansion to be burned to the ground when I'm out. Blow it up if you have to but not before Ricardo gives you the all clear.
Ricardo will lead the search of Romanov's offices for clues of any other Bratva officials connected to the operation of that child labour prison. You've all gone through the blueprints. You know your entrances and exits. We're taking them by surprise so I expect every single one of you to make it out alive.
Watch your backs and most importantly, watch each other's backs. Security will be top notch at the ceremony so this mission is a bit dangerous. However, I expect that mansion to be reduced to ashes by the time I'm done. Understood?"
"Yes boss!" Comes the deep chorus.
I turn away from the blue prints to watch numbers double and triple on special screens mounted on the walls to monitor our stakes in the stock market.
Everything appears good.
"That will be all for now. We'll land soon. The wedding is set to hold the day after tommorow so we've got less than forty eight hours until operation time. Everyone will get proper food and rest at the hotel. You're dismissed."
I hear the thud of heavy boots as the soldiers file out. The Familia employs the best men, then trains them into lethal, killing machines. My men will deliver. They have no other choice.
"Are you okay, Luca?"
I turn at Ricardo's quiet enquiry.
"We haven't been this close to catching that lowlife bastard for the past ten years. I do not want to wait another forty eight hours to get my hands on him. I want to feel his neck crack beneath my palm right this instant."
Ricardo places his palm on my shoulder,
"Patience, boss. Patience. Romanov is already ours."
I heave a sigh, collapsing into one of the swiveling chairs.
"So," Ricardo quips, "There will be lots of women and booze in London tonight, huh, boss?"
I shoot him a look,
"I want my men sober for this mission, Ric, and that includes you."
"Ah. Just women then?"
He waggles his brows at me and I cannot help the smile that stretches my lips.
"We could hit a club tonight. I hear the hotel we'll be staying has a private strip club."
"A strip club." Ricardo's face lights up with a grin.
"What hotel are we staying at again? One of yours?"
I look up absently from scrolling through the long list of emails on my iPad.
"The Blue Diamond. It's in the heart of London."
***************
London
"OhmyGod, I cannot get over the size of that thing."
I yell as Marcus shoves the last piece of an extra large burrito into his mouth. He laughs, his green eyes twinkling beneath the soft glow of a nearby street lamp.
"Want to get another one?"
I shoot him a look of pure horror.
"No. Please no. I have a wedding dress to fit into in the next few hours. Yulia already chose a dress that's one size too small."
"Alright then. It's almost midnight. Ready to leave for our last location for the night?"
Marcus also dressed up, looking fresh and dapper in a black leather jacket, black pants and equally dark boots.
Added to his aristocratic good looks, he looks like some bad boy Prince tonight. This is really a far cry from quiet and thoughtful Marcus.
We've got ladies turning back to catch second looks of him and enough, ' you guys are such a beautiful couple' to last us both a life time.
I realise with sudden panic that I do not ever want this night to end. I do not want to wake up tommorow and face all my problems again. Sensing the downward spiral of my mood, Marcus grasps my hands in his larger ones, tipping my face up with a finger.
"There's no room for dark thoughts and gloomy imaginations tonight, sweetness. Do not think about your Father or the wedding. This is your bachelorette party. We are going to have some very wild, unabashed fun. Got it?"
I smile up at him. His mock-stern lectures never fail to lift my spirits. Without thinking, I step into him, wrapping my hands tightly around his middle.
"I'll miss you, Marcus."
Strong arms wind around my waist and he rests his chin on my hair.
"Me too, sweetnesss. Me too. But not to worry. Some Russian criminal prince would never be able to keep you away from me. I'll climb in through your window every night, if that is what it takes."
I laugh, withdrawing from his warm embrace. A sleek, black car pulls up and Marcus takes my hand in his once again.
"Our Uber's here. Right on time."
I look up at him in surprise,
"When did you call an Uber?"
He makes a show of placing his palm on his chest, giving me a mock gasp.
"You insult my multi tasking abilities, sweetness. I had this car on its way to pick up our pretty arses right when you were finding solace in the warmth of my thousand pound jacket."
I shake my head in laughter.
"Ever considered going into the Performing Arts, Marcus? They are in dire need of your eccentrics."
He laughs,
"Get in the car, m'lady."
I get into the cool interior of the car, scooting to the end of the plush seats to make room for Marcus.
The driver tips his cap to us in silent greeting and we're surrounded by the low purr of the engine as he eases expertly into the busy street.
Marcus points out beautiful sights to me on our way to the hotel.
"So," I begin, "What exactly are we doing once we get there? Gimme a hint."
Marcus eyes take on a mischievous gleam,
"Nuh-uh, princess. It's a surprise."
I heave a sigh.
"C'mon, Marcus. Just a little hint."
He smiles, his perfect teeth glinting in the almost dark interior of the car.
"Fine, I'll give you a hint. We'll dine first at the hotel's restaurant. We'll dance to their beautiful music. And after that, your bachelorette night proper begins. That part is still a surprise. One you're not getting out of me, no mater what."
I giggle, looking out the window.
"Sounds fun. Guess I'll just have to wait and see."
The driver makes short work of the streets and soon enough, we're pulling into the huge private parking garage of the Blue Diamond.
Our doors are opened almost immediately by uniformed parking attendants and I smile my thank you. Marcus comes round the car and places his hands around my bare shoulders. I smile up at him when he drops a soft kiss on my cheek.
Just then, I feel a pickle of awareness. My skin tingles and my heart beats a crazy rhythm against my chest. A convoy of heavily tinted SUVs make their way into the garage. I count six of them in total, finding it weird that a whole section of the garage was already reserved just for the power cars.
it's probably some rich person, I say to myself, shaking my head.
The cars barely skid to a stop when six, heavily armed men come down from all the four sides, leaving the doors hanging open. I move instinctively into the shelter of Marcus' arms, looking up to find him watching the entire fiasco with a weird expression.
He grabs me by the arm suddenly, making a beeline for the entrance of the impressive garage.
I pant, struggling to keep up.
"Slow down, Marcus. What's the rush?"
He doesn't stop. He keeps propelling me towards the brightly lit entrance and I turn, startled as the sound of a car door closing echoes through the entire garage.
The men in black are gathered around another man, forming some kind of protective shield. A talk hulk of a man appears to be their leader. His blue eyes glint in the harsh glare of the garage's automatic lights and his handsome face is pulled in a tight expression as he barks orders at the men.
My feet are merely sliding through the smooth, granite floors now as Marcus keeps pulling me in a hurried pace, towards the exit.
A hand extends from the human shield and the glittering watch wrapped around the stranger's wrist catches my attention. As if on command, the men part, giving me a good view of the person they've been protecting. Marcus lets go of my arm, turning slightly to see what the hold up is. I have suddenly stopped moving.
His eyes.
Those are the first things I notice.They are two bright gray, piercing pools within his darkly handsome face. There and then, I realise that I've never seen such beautiful eyes.
I startle at the realization that he's looking across the garage at us. Marcus' hold on my arm tightens just as a dark look sweeps over Mr. Beautiful's face. Standing with his hands now by his sides, he looks like an angel...a fallen angel.
I feel a faint pulse of electricity beneath my skin as those eyes drill intense holes into my person.
He seems dark...and dangerous— very dangerous. The kind of man that takes what he wants unapologetically. The kind that likes control.
His gaze sweeps over me, hovering intently on my face. He rubs his fingers against his lips in a gesture that almost makes me weak in the knees.
Marcus resumes pulling me gently towards the entrance of the garage and I look away from the stranger's scorching gaze.
With all the heat coming from his eyes, I'm surprised the garage does not catch fire. I take long gulps of the cold night air when we finally reach the exits.
For a moment there, Mr. Dark and Dangerous looked like he wanted to swallow me whole.
