PROLOGUE~ THE CALL

His index finger lifted her chin so she looked at him, her hands trembling in the ropes that bound them. “You should’ve thought twice before you stepped into that club.”

Tears settled in Larisa’s eyes, but she detested letting them fall. “I’m…I’m s-sorry, please f-forgive me.”

“Forgive you? No, little reporter, forgiveness is for accidents. You knowingly walked into my world.” His thumb ran along her shaking lips. “I have the footage, I have your life in the palm of my hands. The only way you survive this is by wagging your tail behind me like a good little puppy.”

“Please…”

“Whenever I call~ you’ll answer, and whatever I ask for~ you’ll give. Failure to comply, I’ll release the videos, and the only place left for you would be behind bars…”

His eyes narrowed in on her, probably his way of showing her that he meant every word that came out of his mouth. “And not even there would you be safe from me.”

Larisa had known it was a bad idea, but her desperation had finally led her to her demise.

It was a tip from an anonymous person, information that could’ve not been true, and yet she’d gone ahead and trusted it. It had been wrong of her, but her craving for money was what blinded her eyes.

The call came in at the office at approximately 1:00pm in the afternoon, a male voice; rough and husky had asked... ‘Is this reporter Larisa Bronc?’

‘Yes...’ Larisa had replied, curiosity clear in her tone as she continued to speak. ‘May I know who’s calling and why?’

‘I won’t be disclosing that. Introductions aren’t mandatory, especially when you’re just dropping off a tip. A dangerous one at that.’

‘A tip...?’

‘Julian Maverick...full proof that he’s in league with the Mafia will be at ‘Thirst’ club. The location is 73 Borden Street, New York. He’ll be there as soon as the clock hits 7:00pm. The passcode to the exclusive wing is ‘I’m blind’ and I’ll send somebody to drop off a card that you’ll need along with that to get in.’

And then the call ended. She had tried calling back, but it went straight to voicemail. Just as promised, she received a card from a delivery guy. She wasn’t sure why the person called for her specifically. She was a failure as a reporter and Julian...Julian Maverick was a businessman, the most successful of them all. His company established a worldwide presence and consistently topped the charts.

The man was a billionaire; he walked on Gucci and spat out Balenciaga. His only flaw was the rumours that he’s an undercover thug.

But of course, nobody believed it, and perhaps that’s why Larisa thought if she could really find the proof and cover a story, she’d be a failure no more. Her article would draw people in like candy did kids, it would sell, and her history of being broke and unsuccessful would vanish for at least a time.

However, that was the stupidest mistake she’d ever made in her life.

She shouldn’t have gone to that damn club, and when she spotted Chase Santiago; a criminal who had been indicted multiple times with Julian in the exclusive wing, she shouldn’t have taken pictures.

If she hadn’t, then she wouldn’t have been kidnapped and thrown in an expensive hotel room...hands tied behind her back and a cloth sealing her mouth.

If she hadn’t, then she wouldn’t have been blackmailed~ submission in exchange for her life...

If she hadn’t, then this mess she was currently in, she wouldn’t have been in it.

Damn!

Her tied hands clenched into fists as the tears finally fell. “You don’t have to do this…” She begged. “I-If you let me go, then I promise nobody will know about this. Nobody would even know that I met you.”

“Is that so?” He smirked.

Larisa nodded frantically, whimpering when his grip on her chin suddenly became painful. “Yes, I promise.”

“Well, Larisa…I’m not the type of man who puts their faith in promises. It’s either you conform to my words, or I’ll kill you even if you end up behind bars.”

Looking away, Larisa let out a quiet sob when the weight of her actions finally became too heavy to bear. Her bad choices had buried her in a world of danger she didn’t even know existed. If this was to go up on the news, then the headline would be:

Larisa Bronc; 21-year-old reporter had finally dug her own grave.

She never once dreamt something like this would ever happen to her. All she wanted was a story, but this was what she got instead.

Another sob drifted up her throat as she nodded. “Yes, I’ll…I’ll be your dog.”

A pleased smiled stretched across his lips. “Good call.”

This was…it was blackmail…cruel and heartless BLACKMAIL.

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