Mistake Not (Old Version)

Genevieve sat in the chair quietly while trying to keep calm. Her wrist was cuffed to the back of the chair, ensuring she wouldn't go anywhere. Not that she'd try anything. She was in a wide office, dark and twisting vibes bounced off the walls. She was surrounded by men and big suits and guns visible on their holsters. What did I get myself into? Why did you open your big mouth? She was in trouble without a doubt and she couldn't blame anyone but herself for believing a word the man said to her. He wasn't who he said he was. She was the one to have s*x with a Russian killer. She should've known by the accent and his sexy facial structure with the tattoos crawling up his neck. Of course, he had others on his body that she briefly recalls, never will be able to forget his nice structured body. The doors opened and the sound of heavy footsteps hit her ears. She swallowed hard, her fingers shaking while keeping her head forward. She only hoped she looked unaffected and brave on the outside. It was nowhere close to what she felt inside of her. She was scared for her life. The sudden feeling of his hands squeezing her shoulders made her breathing hitch to a quicker level. He leaned forward, his lips grazing the shell of her right ear. His deep masculine hum vibrates onto her causing her nerves to rattle. "I hate being made a fool of." His voice thick with his accent making him sound lethal. "I-I didn't do—" she gasped when his hand was around her neck within seconds. One firm squeeze and she was mute. "I don't like liars." His voice was soft yet dangerous. Hmph. She could say the same to him. He lied not only about his background but who he was as a person. "Nor do I." She managed to breathe out, her heart thumping hard against her chest. His sharp inhale and another firm squeeze of her neck made her panic but he let go. She took in a couple of breaths when she heard him speak his native tongue. He was talking to his men and by the strong aggression in his tone, he was speaking something serious. A man was suddenly pushed forward in front of her causing a gasp from her lips. She looked down at the man she went to about the report of a man killed in the alley and froze. He was beaten up. Badly. She couldn't recognize who he once was. Officer Leon. "I don't do well with cops in my shît. Thanks to you, he's been digging where he shouldn't have been." Genevieve had no words. Her brain was still trying to process. A man grabbed the officer by the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of her line of vision. The killer was back in front of her. "I won't say another word. Please, let me go." She pleaded. "I can't do that. Not right now." "Do you think you can keep me here without my consent? That's a crime." He glared down at her with a sinning smirk. "I committed many crimes, Miss Santos. This is nothing but easy work." Asshole. She thought angrily. "I have a life that I'm living and a family that will come looking for me." This time amusement formed upon his face. "Apparently, they believe you're on a cruise with a nonexistent friend and I'll hardly call working in a coffee shop twenty-four-seven, and living off a check to check is called living." She looked down defeatedly. "What are you going to do to me? Kill me?" He sniffs, amused. "To ensure you're no threat." He stepped forward, gripping her jaw. "I'd hate to kill a pretty face. Do what you're told and you just might be gone sooner than later. Understand?" His eyes stared hard into her own and Genevieve swore she felt he was looking through her. She swallowed down a lump and nods her head. His grip became tighter. "Your words, люблю." (love.) "Okay."