Chapter 4
1455 Words
The heavy storm had faded into a cold, freezing drizzle by the time Amelia stepped out of the diner.
One of the massive, matte-black SUVs was idling by the curb, the rear door already held open by a man built like a heavy-weight boxer. He wore a dark suit that bulged slightly over his gun holster. He didn't say a word. He just stared at her, waiting.
Amelia pulled her jacket tight and climbed inside.
The door slammed shut with a heavy, solid *thud*. The interior smelled of expensive leather and the windows were tinted so dark she could barely see the streetlights blurring past as the driver pulled away from the curb. The partition separating her from the driver and the bodyguard in the front seat was locked shut.
She looked down at the empty seat next to her. Sitting neatly on the pristine leather was her cheap, beat-up duffel bag.
A fresh wave of nausea hit her. The lawyer wasn't bluffing. They had been inside her apartment. They had touched her things. They owned her.
For an hour, she watched the city lights fade into darkness. The smooth pavement turned into a winding, private mountain road. Tall, dense pines swallowed the SUV on both sides. The isolation was suffocating. If she screamed out here, absolutely no one would hear her.
Finally, the SUV slowed.
Through the dark glass, Amelia saw massive wrought-iron gates towering over the road. Three men carrying assault rifles strapped to their chests stepped out of a sleek security checkpoint. The driver rolled down the window just enough to flash a badge. The guards didn't smile. They just waved the car through.
The iron gates groaned open.
Amelia pressed her hand against the glass. The estate was breathtaking, but terrifying. It was an ultra-modern masterpiece of sharp angles, sleek steel, and massive, floor-to-ceiling glass windows glowing against the dark cliff overlooking the ocean. It screamed wealth and absolute power. But the high walls, and the cameras dotting every corner made it very clear: this was a fortress.
*Once you enter the estate, you belong to the estate.*
The SUV pulled into a sprawling circular driveway and parked directly in front of massive, modern double doors.
The bodyguard opened her door. The freezing ocean wind immediately whipped her wet hair across her face.
"Out," he grunted.
Amelia grabbed her cheap duffel bag, her knuckles white. She stepped onto the pristine driveway, her worn-out sneakers feeling ridiculous against the sheer luxury of the place. The bodyguard didn't follow her. He just pointed a massive finger at the front doors.
Amelia swallowed hard. She walked up the steps, every instinct screaming at her to run back to the woods. But she reached out and pushed the heavy door open.
She stepped into a sprawling, multi-level foyer. The floors were imported white marble, and a massive, abstract chandelier hung from the soaring ceiling. But for a house this large, it was dead silent. The kind of silence that made her ears ring.
"You... you're the new nurse."
Amelia jumped, clutching her bag to her chest.
Standing near the base of a sweeping glass staircase was a young woman in a crisp, black-and-white maid's uniform. She couldn't have been older than twenty. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles entirely white, and her eyes darted nervously toward the top of the stairs.
"Yes," Amelia whispered, her voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "I'm Amelia."
"I'm Elena," the maid replied, her voice trembling. She didn't step forward to take Amelia's bag. She just gestured frantically toward the stairs. "Please. You have to hurry. He hates waiting, and the doctor just left."
"Who hates waiting?" Amelia asked, her heart rate picking up again. "Where am I going?"
"The private study," Elena whispered, her eyes wide with a frantic, warning look. "Third floor. At the end of the hall. Just... please, Miss Amelia. Walk quietly. Do not speak unless he speaks to you first. And whatever you do, do not look directly at the tattoos on his chest. It makes him angry."
Amelia froze on the first step. The air vanished from her lungs.
*Tattoos on his chest.*
The flashing image of the bleeding, massive man in the dark alley crashed into her mind. The pitch-black, lethal eyes. The silver chain snapping off her neck.
"Wait," Amelia choked out, her grip on the glass railing turning white. "The man upstairs... he was injured? About three weeks ago?"
Elena looked at her like she was insane for asking a question out loud. "Yes," the maid hissed, looking terrified that someone might hear them. "A severe abdominal wound. Now please, you have to go up. If he gets agitated, he fires people. Or worse."
Amelia’s stomach dropped completely out of her body.
It wasn't a coincidence. It wasn't random charity paying off her father's debt. The monster from the alley hadn't just survived. He had found her. And she had just voluntarily signed a contract to lock herself inside his fortress.
Every survival instinct in her brain screamed to turn around and sprint back out into the rain. But the heavy front doors were already locked behind her. The armed guards were outside.
She had nowhere to run.
Amelia forced her legs to move. She climbed the glass staircase, her sneakers completely silent against the marble, until she reached the third floor.
The hallway was wide, modern, and dimly lit. At the very end were a set of massive, dark steel double doors. They were cracked open just an inch.
As she crept closer, the low hum of deep, angry voices leaked out into the hallway.
"...the shipment at the docks was compromised," a harsh voice was saying. "The Italians are testing us. You give me the word, and I'll burn their warehouses to the ground tonight."
Amelia stopped right outside the gap in the door, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"No."
The single word cut through the room like a blade. It was a low, gravelly vibration that sent a violent shiver straight down Amelia's spine. She knew that voice. It was the same voice that had threatened to stop her breathing in the alley.
Amelia pushed the heavy steel door open.
The private study was massive. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows made up the entire back wall, giving a terrifying view of the stormy ocean and the lightning flashing across the sky.
Standing in the center of the room were four of his men. They looked like hardened killers, their dark jackets pulled back just enough to reveal the heavy firearms strapped to their waists.
But Amelia didn’t look at them. Her eyes locked onto the man sitting on the sleek leather sofa behind them.
Nicolai.
He wasn't wearing a full suit this time. He wore dark slacks and a black dress shirt, but the shirt was completely unbuttoned, making room for the thick white bandages wrapping his midsection. The dark, aggressive ink of his chest tattoos crept out from under the gauze.
He looked lethal. Powerful. And completely in control.
The heavy steel door clicked as it hit the wall.
All four of his men instantly snapped their attention toward the sound. Two of them instinctively dropped their hands to their holsters, their eyes narrowing at the small, soaked woman standing in the doorway holding a cheap duffel bag.
But Nicolai didn’t reach for a weapon.
He slowly lifted his head. His jaw tightened.
Through the dim light of the study, his pitch-black eyes locked onto Amelia. The entire room seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air. He didn't look surprised to see her. He looked like a predator who had finally caught his prey.
The terrifying silence stretched for three agonizing seconds.
"Boss?" one of them asked, his hand still resting on his gun. "Who the hell is this?"
Nicolai didn't look away from Amelia. His dark eyes dragged slowly down her wet hair, her oversized jacket, and the trembling hands clutching her bag, before snapping back up to her face.
"Get out," Nicolai commanded. His voice was deathly quiet, but it echoed in the large room.
His men hesitated, exchanging confused, tense glances.
"I said," Nicolai repeated, his tone dropping an octave colder, "get out. All of you. Now."
No one argued with him twice. The four men immediately bowed their heads and filed out of the study, their heavy boots thudding against the floor. They brushed past Amelia in the doorway, shooting her dangerous, questioning glares, but she barely registered them.
The heavy steel doors slammed shut behind the last man.
The lock clicked.
Amelia was completely alone in the room with the Don.
- Writer
