Chapter 6
Angela’s breath came in ragged gasps as she bolted upright in bed, her body drenched in sweat. The sheets clung to her trembling form, her püks hammering wildly in her chest: The nightmare still clung to her mind like a suffocating fog–the sickening scent of expensive cologne, the suffocating heat of the auction room, the leering faces of men bidding on her as if she were nothing but a piece of flesh to be owned. Her hands fisted the cheeta throat tightening as though unseen chains still wrapped around it.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the present. The air in the dimly lit room was cool against her damp skin, yet she felt suffocated. The weight of the past pressed heavily on her chest, leaving her gasping for relief. She needed water–something, anything to pull her out of the prison of her own mind.
Throwing the blanket off, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet met the cold marble floor, sending a shiver up her spine. She had no choice but to rely on touch, her fingers trailing along the walls as she carefully navigated the unfamiliar mansion. It stunned her that the door wasn’t locked. She expected him to keep her locked but that wasn’t the case. Maybe he knew she couldn’t escape in that condition and he found her pitiful. The thought alone made her feel uneasy. She didn’t want people to pity her.
The silence of the hallways was oppressive. Each step she took felt deafening in the vast space. She had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to move. Needed to breathe. But the deeper she wandered, the more lost she became. The walls felt endless, stretching into darkness, the air thick with an eerie stillness.
Then, the scent of whiskey and smoke hit her.
Angela froze.
A presence loomed ahead. A dark energy, suffocating and inescapable.
Her pulse spiked as she realized where she had ended up–in Mikhail’s vicinity.
And he was there.
Mikhail Volkov sat on one of the luxurious couches, his legs spread wide in a position of power, a glass of whiskey held loosely in one hand. His predatory gaze had already found her, piercing through the dim light like a wolf spotting its prey. The air was thick with something dangerous, something suffocating.
Angela tightened her grip on the wall, her body tense. She could feel his eyes drinking her in, analyzing every shaky breath, every nervous twitch of her fingers.
“I didn’t think you’d wander straight to me,” Mikhail mused, his voice deep and laced with amusement. “Lost, little dove?”
Angela swallowed, willing her voice to remain steady. “I just needed water.”
“Did you now?” He took a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. “And instead, you ended up at my feet. Interesting.”
Angela clenched her jaw. “It was a mistake.”
His chuckle was dark, low. “Perhaps.” A pause. Then-“Or perhaps it was fate.”
She flinched as she heard the sound of his glass being placed down. A shift in movement. Then silence.
Then-
Footsteps.
The slow, deliberate kind that sent chills racing down her spine.
Angela instinctively backed up, but the wall behind her offered no escape. She felt the vibrations of his approach, the air growing heavier with every stej he took.
Chapter 6
Then he was right there. Close enough that she could feel his heat radiating toward her Close enough that the tent at whiskey
hersenses.
A fingertip brushed her cheek, tracing the damp trail left by sweat. “You had a nightmare”
Angela flinched at the touch, her breath catching in her throat. “Don’t”
“Don’t what?” Mikhail murmured, his voice velvet and steel. “Don’t touch you? Don’t get close?” He exhaled, his breath ghosting over her son. Or don’t remind you of the truth?”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “And what truth is that?”
He leaned in, his lips a breath away from her ear. He felt so tall up close. “That no matter how much you resist, no matter how much you fight..” He let the words sink in before whispering, “You are already mine.”
Angela’s breath hitched. Her body was rigid, her mind screaming at her to move, to push him away–but she was frozen, ensnared by his presence, drowning in the darkness he exuded.
“I will never be yours,” she gritted, summoning every ounce of defiance left in her.
Mikhail’s fingers trailed down her arm, a slow, calculated touch that sent shivers through her. “You say that now,” he murmured. “But I know fear when taste it.” His hand wrapped gently–yet firmly–around her throat, not squeezing, merely resting there. A reminder of control A silent promise.
Angela gasped, her body trembling against the wall. The weight of his hand was maddening, suffocating.
“You can keep fighting, little dove,” he whispered against her ear. “But deep down, you already know…”
He tilted her chin up with his thumb, his touch both possessive and taunting.
“You belong to me.”
Angela’s stomach twisted violently. Fury burned in her veins, but it was overshadowed by the terrifying realization that he was right–she was trapped. There was no escape.
Mikhail pulled back, his presence still looming over her. “Now,” he said, voice calm yet filled with unspoken command. “Turn around. Go back to your room. I’ll send water there.”
Angela’s breath was unsteady, her body still trembling, but she forced herself to move. With slow, measured steps, she turned and walked away, feeling the weight of his gaze burning into her back.
The darkness of the mansion felt different now. Not just unfamiliar.
But inescapable.
The reality of the situation slowly began to sink into her bones. His words kept ringing in her head making fear coil deep in her chest. How will she escape this hell?
AD
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