CHAPTER 4
1421 Words
ALINA’S POV*****
I almost turned back three times before I reached the building. My legs were shaking.
The place was massive. Glass walls. Security everywhere. Black cars parked in near lines. People walking in and out like this was just another normal office. Like dangerous things didn't run from inside.
I stood outside for a moment, bracing myself. This was it. Denis Volkov's office. The man my father had warned me about. The man who had taken everything from us.
I swallowed hard and walked in.
Cold air hit my skin. The lobby was too quiet and too clean. Everything smelled expensive. The floors shone like mirrors. People moved around in suits, talking in low voices, like they were afraid of being too loud.
I walked up to the receptionist's desk. A woman sat behind the wide desk, typing. She looked up when I approached.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
“I'm here to see Denis Volkov.”
“Alright, do you have an appointment?” She asked.
“No, I don't. I need to see him. It's important,” I insisted. “Please, I won't take much of his time.”
She shook her head. “That's not how it works.”
“But… it's urgent,” I pleaded.
She gave me a professional smile. “I'm sorry, but you can't see him without an appointment.”
“I really need to,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Please.”
She shook her head. “You'll have to schedule–”
“I can't,” I interrupted. “I won't leave without seeing him.”
She frowned. “Miss, I will have to call the security if you don't leave.”
“I'm not leaving,” I repeated.
She sighed. “Security–”
“Don't,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
My hands were shaking, but I kept them by my side. I didn't come all the way here to be thrown out.
“Please,” I said again, lowering my voice.
“Miss, I–”
Before she could finish, another man walked up to the desk. He leaned in and whispered something to her. I couldn't hear what he said, but her expression changed immediately.
She looked at me again, this time differently.
“You can go in,” she said. “Top floor.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Elevator's over there. Someone will meet you.”
I didn't wait for her to change her mind. I turned and walked away, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Why the sudden change?
I didn't question it. I just knew I had one chance– and I wasn't wasting it.
As I approached the elevator, my throat felt dry. This was a mistake. Every part of me screamed to run. But I didn't. I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. My hands clenched into fists.
The elevator ride felt longer than it probably was. I kept replaying everything in my head. What I was going to say. How I was going to say it. How I was going to stay calm.
By the time the doors opened, my palms were sweaty. A man in a black suit was waiting. He didn't smile.
“Follow me.”
I did.
We walked down a quiet hallway and stopped in front of a large wooden door.
“Go in,” he said.
I took a deep breath and pushed it open. The office was massive. Big windows. Dark furniture. A huge desk. Everything screamed power.
And then I saw him. Denis Volkov.
He was sitting behind the desk, relaxed, like he owned the world.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Recognition hit it hard. Him. The man from the boat.
My body froze for a second before my brain caught up. My chest tightened. My hands curled into fists.
I knew that face. I knew those eyes. I knew that smirk. And I knew I should turn around and run. But I didn't. My anger was fast rising.
He looked at me. Eyes scanning me. From my face to my hands, to my shoes, then back to my face. I felt naked and exposed.
His lips curved into a slow, lazy smirk.
“Oh,” he said slowly. “Look at that.”
My heart pounded harder.
“Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “If it isn't the girl with the melodious moan.”
My jaws tightened.
In my head, I screamed. Who talks like that? Who even identifies someone with that? I felt irritated.
I took a step forward, forcing my legs to move. My voice came out steadier than I felt.
“Oh… well, if it wasn't the man who couldn't keep his hands to himself.”
For the first time, his smirk faltered– just slightly.
Not anger. Not a shock. But amusement. Interest. That made my skin crawl.
“Well,” he said lazily, sitting up. “You're bolder than I remember.”
I walked closer, stopping in front of his desk. “I didn't come here to trade insults nor did I come here for small talk,” I snapped. “I came here because of what you did.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly did I do?”
I hesitated. I was supposed to plead. I had planned my words. But seeing him again– seeing him–
Everything I prepared was shattered. Fear replaced anger.
“You ruined my family,” I said.
His expression didn't change.
“You took everything from my family,” I snapped. “You ruined us. You're throwing us out of our house. And you want to act like none of that matters? You destroyed my father!”
He studied me like a puzzle.
“Who's your father?” he asked.
I hesitated for half a second. Then I said it.
“Damian Petrov.”
That got a reaction. Not dramatic. Not loud. But a smirk. A smirk?!. Who is this man?
“Didn't he tell you that I don't tolerate mistakes?” he asked.
“Exactly a mistake! A mistake that could have been fixed without you ruining a man. His family. Everything he worked for!
“That mistake cost me millions of dollars!” His patience was thinning out. But I was too far gone to come back.
“My goodness, are you human? You mean the cost of the mistake was money? “I laughed bitterly.
He looked at me with surprise. Like I was a psycho when he was the psycho.
“You know I came here to beg,” I admitted. “To plead. But then I saw you, and I remembered what kind of man you are.”
His jaw tightened.
“You harassed me,” I said. “You scared me. You used me.”
His eyes darkened.
“And I find out you're the same man who destroyed my family?” I scoffed. “ What a coincidence.”
I pointed at him. “You don't get to take our house. You don't get to erase our lives,” I said.
He didn't move. Silence. My chest rose and fell fast. He leaned back in his chair. Then he smiled. Not a nice one. An amused one.
“You're brave,” he said.
“I'm desperate,” I shot back.
Something about that made him pause.
I took a breath. My chest was tight, my throat burning, but I refused to cry in front of him.
“That households everything we have left,” I said. “Memories. My mother. Our past.”
I swallowed. “You're not taking it.”
His eyes burned into mine.
“And what exactly are you going to do about it?” he asked calmly.
I froze. Then–
“I don't know,” I said honestly. “But I won't let you.”
A slow smile already across his face.
“Well, he said. “This just got interesting.”
Then I turned and walked to the door. My hand shook as I reached for the handle.
“I repeat, Mr Denis Volkov,” I said without looking back, “You're not taking our house.”
Then I left. The door slammed shut behind me. My legs almost gave out. But I kept walking.
I had stood up to Denis Volkov. And I had no idea what that meant for me.
- Writer
