Chapter Eighteen
Alessia
I sat on a metal bench pushed into the far corner of the clinic.
Doctor Dorothy moved around, her latex gloves stained with blood.
One man seated on the exam table grimaced as Dorothy cleaned a deep cut on his upper arm and wrapped it with a clean strip of gauze.
Three more men were in the room with fresh injuries: split lips, purple bruises, and untreated cuts.
It looked like a battlefield aftermath. Like they had crawled out of some hellish fight.
When I walked in, Dorothy motioned for me to sit.
She drew my blood and moved on without a word or an explanation.
I wanted to ask her why I was being tested and what Artur wanted with my blood.
Deep down, I knew it was about the deal with him.
But now, surrounded by bloodied men, it felt like the wrong moment to speak. So, I just sat and waited.
One soldier stood up and adjusted his jacket, wincing as he moved. He had a swollen cheek, and his knuckles looked like someone had dragged them across concrete. He left, and I hoped I could be alone with Dorothy. Maybe she would explain why they were interested in my blood.
But Dorothy approached me as if sensing my plan. She held an envelope. “Take this to the boss,” she said. “It’s ready.”
I stood up quickly, my heart already beating fast. “What is this about?” I asked before she could walk away.
She peeled off her gloves one finger at a time and tossed them into a nearby bin. “I’m sure the boss will explain,” she replied, already turning.
“Wait—” I stepped forward.
But the door creaked open before I could finish. Matvet walked in, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me. He gave me that soft look before turning to Dorothy.
“We need you to examine a body outside,” he said.
Dorothy gave me one last glance and followed Matvet, her coat billowing as she disappeared.
I stood there holding the envelope, staring at the three men left in the room.
One had his shirt off, revealing a stitched wound across his ribs.
Another was trying to light a cigarette, while the third leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and a dark stain spreading across his pant leg.
I looked down at the envelope again. This was a personal matter. And the worst part? I felt like I was losing something I never signed up for.
Since I had no choice, I left the clinic.
Dorothy and Matvet were already several steps ahead, and their pace didn’t slow.
I followed in silence. As we turned a corner, agitated, muffled voices grew louder, the kind that carried bad news.
Dorothy and Matvet were heading straight for it, and I did, too.
We stepped outside. The sunlight barely touched the concrete courtyard where the commotion was. Artur stood with two other men, and Renat was nearby, raging into his phone.
A black object lay on the ground between them—a body wrapped in a body bag. My steps faltered. I stopped several feet away, the chill in my spine spreading like ice.
Dorothy knelt beside the body and unzipped the bag. The harsh rasp of the zipper made my skin crawl. From where I stood, I saw part of the man’s face — pale, mouth slightly ajar.
He was dead.
Dorothy lifted the limp hand and inspected the wrist. Her gloved fingers moved along the body. I couldn’t look away.
“What the fuck is that?” Renat snapped, lowering his phone and stepping closer. He crouched, blocking my view, and then his voice sharpened. “Oh? So now Luigi knows Alessia?”
My heart stopped. I stepped back without meaning to. No one had seen me behind the stone pillar, but Renat’s following words hit like a punch.
“Why the fuck is she involved?”
My throat tightened, and for a moment, I didn’t know who the hell Luigi was. The way Renat said it made it sound like I had committed a crime just by knowing someone beyond Marco. But who the hell was Luigi?
Artur turned away from the body. “Take care of it,” he ordered, then walked toward me. His boots cracked against the stone ground with a fury he didn’t speak aloud.
He brushed past me without a glance. But I felt the storm. He was furious, and I didn’t know why. What did I do? All I’d done was try to be on his good side, and now this?
When I saw Renat turning toward the mansion, I spun and followed Artur. I didn’t want to face Renat. I entered Artur’s quarters and noticed the basement door was ajar.
He was downstairs in the underground gym. Following the sound of his grunts, I descended the steps, my heartbeat syncing with the rhythmic impact of fists slamming into a heavy bag.
His back muscles flexed with each devastating punch.
Sweat dripped from his skin, but the tension in his movements wasn’t from exertion.
It was a barely contained storm. I should have left, but the envelope in my hand was the only reason I didn’t turn back.
I noticed his phone on a nearby table, so I could place the envelope beside it and leave.
But as I reached the table, his movements stopped, and he turned. His gaze burned through me, and his chest rose and fell with controlled breaths. I showed him the envelope, but he said nothing. I placed it beside his phone and pointed at it, hoping that would be enough.
His stare never wavered, but I gave him a thumbs-up and turned to leave, because what else was I supposed to do?
“Come here.” His voice cut through the room like a blade.
Bracing myself with an exhale, I said, “Sir, I know I’m interrupting. I can come back later. Or tomorrow. Tomorrow sounds good.”
His knuckles cracked as he adjusted his gloves, his eyes never leaving his task. “Get the fuck over here, young woman.”
“Yes, sir.” I walked back fast, my heart racing.
He finished securing his gloves before tilting his chin toward the floor. “Grab the gun.”
My stomach knotted. “Sorry?”
His head lifted, and the intensity in his gaze had me nodding before I even registered the movement. I crouched and picked up the gun; its weight was foreign in my grip. It felt wrong, so I quickly held it out to him.
He ignored my attempt and walked deeper into the basement. “Follow me.”
“Me?” I hesitated, staring at the gun. I wasn’t supposed to be holding this thing. But I had no choice but to trail after him. “Sir?”
The basement was massive, sectioned off for different purposes. We stepped into what I realized was a shooting range. The circular targets lined up at the far end confirmed it.
He finally stopped, standing before the closest target.
“Stand there,” he ordered, and I halted a few feet away, uneasiness coiling in my stomach. Something about this felt off. He turned to face me. “Shoot me.”
My breath caught. “What?”
“Three seconds. Start shooting.”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “I don’t think I under—”
“One.”
Panic flared in my chest. “Look, I won’t shoot you. I don’t even know how to use this damn thing.”
“Two.”
I swallowed hard. “Come on, be serious.”
“Three.”
Before I could react, he moved. One second, he was in front of me, the next, he grabbed me and switched our positions in a flash. The next thing I knew, he had taken the gun from my hand and stepped back to where I had been standing.
He cocked the gun, leveling it at me. “I don’t think I understand—”
Gunshots exploded through the room. I screamed, instinct taking over as I clamped my hands over my ears, cowering under the deafening shots. Every bang sent a violent tremor through my spine.
By the time he stopped, I had collapsed to my knees, my ears ringing painfully. My breath came out in quick gasps. I wasn’t dead, but something inside me had shattered.
A gasp tore from my throat when his hands landed on my shoulders. I flinched, batting him away, but he grabbed my wrists, peeling them from my ears with ease.
“Let me go.” I thrashed, realizing I was crying.
He didn’t. Instead, he maneuvered us, and I was no longer fighting him; I was straddling him, my hands pressed on his chest. My breath hitched when I became aware of everything at once.
His hand was firm around my waist. His chest rose and fell beneath my palms. But the worst realization was his hardness pressed between my thighs. My stomach tightened. I told myself it was a gun. It had to be a gun. But something in his gaze told me otherwise.
Silence.
Tension.
My skirt betrayed me as my bare skin brushed against something that was definitely not a gun.
Holy fuck. I stiffened, my fingers digging into his chest.
“Let go.” I shifted my hips, just enough to confirm what I feared, and Oh. My. God. His grip tightened in response.
Our eyes locked. His usual icy stare had darkened, and something else lurked beneath the surface. What I saw was something dark and dangerous—not anger but desire.
“Why are you always in the wrong place?” His whisper sent a tremor through me. His hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair. He pulled me closer. “Little Gem, your presence ruins what’s left of my restraint.”
My breath hitched. “You told me to come to you.”
“I’m drunk on something I shouldn’t be.” His lips hovered near mine. “Can you handle what I can offer?”
His mouth brushed my jaw, a featherlight touch that set my nerves on fire. I swallowed hard. “The envelope—”
His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer as if he was letting me feel how hard he was. My core pressed against his arousal, and I hated how satisfying it felt.
“Did I say you could come in when I’m like this?” His voice was pure sin, lips ghosting over my ear.
My body betrayed me, leaning into him as if his presence were a drug. My fingers curled against his chest.
“Move your hips one more time and you’ll beg for mercy I don’t give.”
That was a promise. But he had already grounded me.
His lips grazed the corner of mine, just a turn of my head away from a kiss.
His cheek, rough with the scrape of a close shave, brushed against mine, sending butterflies into my stomach.
For a split second, I wondered what he would taste like if we kissed.
“Get out of here, Little Gem,” he murmured against my lips. “Or I’ll ruin every innocent part of you.”
Before I could react, he pushed me off him, placing me on the cold floor as he got up. I stayed there, watching as he disappeared. My body still thrummed with adrenaline and something new. Need.