Chapter Three: Russian Roulette
1078 Words
The jeep halted before a massive silver gate, the garden surrounding it giving it a spectacular look. My mouth opened as the gate moved inside by itself to reveal a penthouse that could contain everyone in my block and still be enough space to rent.
“We have arrived, young mistress.” The guard said as he drove towards the water fountain ahead.
I couldn’t help but gasp when my eyes caught sight of the garage. Behind the transparent glass lay countless cars, Lamborghini, Chevrolet, Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail, and Bugatti Centodieci. Those were the ones I could name compared to the others that seemed like sports cars worth millions of dollars.
Just how much does this Dylan have to be able to acquire such assets and live in seclusion?
“Young mistress, the master awaits.” The door opened, and the guard made a slight bow.
I bowed almost immediately before walking towards the main entrance, where women and men in white and black uniforms stood opposite each other, creating a path in between.
The thought of walking behind the females in uniform struck my mind, but the idea immediately vanished when I caught sight of a man who stood in front of the main entrance.
He had a frown on his face, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. His face was familiar and had a striking resemblance to someone I knew.
“Zendaya?” He raised his eyebrow, a wave of disgust now visible on his face.
“Are you here to hand me an apology or make my life miserable?” The sound of my knuckles cracking filled the air as I walked towards him.
“Welcome, Young Mistress!”
They went for a bow as I stood before Fred, my ex-boss from Romera Corps.
His frown became astonishment when the people in uniforms kept their heads lowered as I flared up. He didn’t speak, opening the door of the main entrance before leaving me standing before the main entrance.
“Good day, everyone.” I held up a smile as I bowed slightly. “I am not the young mistress.”
They stole glances at each other before going on their knees. “Forgive us Young mistress, we did not mean to offend you by calling your title.”
“That is not what I meant, please rise,” I stated immediately, trying to clear up the misunderstanding.
They stood up, returning to their positions with fear written all over their faces.
“Young Mistress…”
“Call me Zendaya.”
“That wouldn’t be possible. We are under strict instructions, and our lives are on the line.” The bodyguard nearest to me said as he opened the door for me to walk in.
Who in their right mind would want to work in a place where a single mistake would result in their death? This is all an act; I should play along.
The bodyguard led me through several rooms that had golden interiors and door handles. Everywhere I looked ended up being a blend of silver and gold. My eyes couldn’t take the amount of expensive treasures lingering, so I had to stop sightseeing and start following the bodyguard for real.
“Master Dylan, the Young mistress is here,” he announced.
The creaking sound of the door lingered as the door pushed inwards and moved in the opposite direction to reveal a man sitting on a desk with his upper half naked. Sitting opposite him was Fred with a grin on his face.
“That is the imposter who claims to be your wife!” Fred yelled almost immediately.
I sneered at him, walking forward till I was a few steps from his desk.
His dreadlocks swayed, the rings hitting each other to create low-pitched metallic sounds. His eyes were hidden behind his dreads, and a smile had curled on his face, revealing his pink lips.
“How dare you stand before him with confidence! You wh**e” Fred yelled again with confidence.
“Quiet.” A low baritone engulfed the room, tension growing as silence crept in.
Fred, who had once been confident, now trembled under the words of Dylan. He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on me with a frown plastered on his face.
“What did you just call my woman?”
His dread swayed to the side, revealing his eyes that now had a darker shade, and made him look like a psychopath.
“Your woman?” Fred now had a stunned expression on his face.
He started laughing as he rose to his feet, his muscles tightening with each swing of his arm, his chest heaving like a drum being struck. He placed a hand on Fred’s shoulder, his grip tightening as he suddenly had an intimidating presence.
“Alfred.” He said.
Fred gulped at the call of his name. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his negative energy turned into twisted guts. He looked like a thief who had been caught by a*****e owner after a series of successful operations.
“Count to ten,” Dylan said, his voice now laced with something dangerous.
“Please, I had no idea she was your woman?” Fred stuttered.
Ever since I knew Fred, he had never stuttered, even in the face of angry stakeholders. Who is this Master Dylan who has such abilities?
“Is…” he paused, correcting himself, “She is my woman.”
“Forgive me, Young Master.”
Dylan chuckled, his hand reaching for his back pocket and returning with a revolver. He opened it up, grabbing a bullet from the edge of his desk and fitting it into one of the six slots of the revolver, before c*****g it and placing his finger on the trigger.
“Count to ten.”
“You shouldn’t get your hands filthy, Master. I will handle this.” The guard said as he walked towards Dylan.
“He’s just a speck of dust.” Dylan chuckled. “He can’t stain my hands.”
The guard withdrew, taking his position next to me.
All this while I had remained silent because even with my bodyguard training, I couldn't fathom going up against someone like him. His sinister aura was a whole lot, and with each chuckle, I would feel my instincts telling me to run.
“Spare me!”
“Don’t do it,” I yelled subconsciously.
CLICK.
- Writer
