Chapter 5 – Marielle
I was back in the room that resembled a top-tier suite in a five-star hotel—a Gothic dream, nonetheless. I might have been excited to be in such a VIP room if it weren’t a cage.
Silence kept me company as they locked the door. Again.
I remembered pushing people out of my room when I was growing up, just because I wanted quiet. I would steer clear of the parlor when my parents were there because I didn’t want to hear their chatter; I preferred my silence over it.
Who would have thought silence could be so disturbing to me?
This must be what deafening silence feels like.
I walked to the large windows by the bed, looking outside.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me the property I was being held in was one massive mansion.
My view was clearly not of the front of the property; all I could see was the stretch of greenery.
But the height of the walls I could see from my window told me there was at least one floor below mine and another one or two above.
I sighed, leaning against the windows that seemed to be several centimeters thick.
My situation was even worse than I had thought.
I wasn’t just kidnapped by regular kidnappers. These people were a criminal faction that held their own authority. The Russian Mafia.
If the people themselves weren’t terrifying, the reason they took me was.
The fact that they waited to do this for years was chilling to the bones; it was more than scary.
The painful part was that I got into a trap they had set for someone else.
Someone else whose existence I had no idea of until today.
How in the hell was Lucien married?
He never wore a wedding band or even talked about ever being married.
I could still see the first time we met in my mind’s eye.
“Hi, beautiful. May I join you?”
I turned to the side to see the owner of the smooth but confident voice. His black hair shone as brightly as his blue eyes did under the colorful lights.
“Well, there’s no private space here, is there? It’s a rooftop party,” I replied, mirroring his smile.
Even in my heels, I had to look up to meet his gaze.
His black suit sharply contrasted with his white shirt and clearly showed it was tailored to fit his muscular frame.
“You could say that. But, from where I stood, I could see that you owned the whole space around you with your royal elegance.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“And your laugh is even more beautiful than your silence,” he complimented before taking my left, manicured hand in his. “Nice to meet you, beautiful. Lucien Navarro.”
Then he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Are you always this forward?”
“I wouldn’t risk any man sweeping you off your feet. You’ve not told me your name, beautiful.”
“Marielle.”
“Marielle…” he repeated. “I can’t think of anything more gorgeous.”
I chuckled before lifting my glass to my lips. He did the same.
He was smooth.
As we casually talked, his eyes lingered on mine like I was the most interesting thing in the room—or, on the roof. His attention and charm didn’t make me feel sick like those of other guys. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that he was an older guy with a mature demeanor.
The party was almost over, and I told him I was going to leave.
“When can I see you again? I’d do anything to make it happen, Marielle,” he uttered as he walked me down the stairs.
“Why? A breath of fresh air away from your wife? I’m not mistress material, I assure you.”
“Well, that hurts,” he remarked, his eyes looking forward.
“What?”
“You're saying no based on an assumption. You’re denying me your gracious company on the basis of my age. Although I get it.”
“I never mentioned your age as the issue.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. There’s no wife I’m running away from. I’m just a man drawn to a beautiful lady and would want nothing more than to spend time with her.”
“You. Are. Smooth.”
“Believe me, it’s all you,” he replied. “So, does Friday work for you? I don’t have your number.”
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of jingling keys on the other side of the door. Letting the drapes fall, I didn’t bother moving away from the window.
I folded my arms as a man I hadn’t seen before swung the door open. Instead of him, a middle-aged woman entered the room with a rectangular tray in her hand.
“Good morning, Miss,” she greeted, proceeding to a stool with a calm smile.
I blinked, not exactly knowing what to say to her.
“She brought your food. You’ve been out for a while. You need to eat,” the man explained, as if it were news.
Then he turned to the woman who was dragging the stool to the edge of the bed.
“Knock when she’s done,” he told her.
Rising, she nodded at him around the same time I asked, “She’s staying here with me?!”
“Yes,” he answered.
Then the door was shut. And locked.
The woman moved to the couch beside the bed while I stood there.
“You won’t enjoy it if it gets cold,” she noted, gesturing to the food.
“A meal is definitely the last thing I want to enjoy right now,” I mumbled.
She chuckled softly like she was expecting that.
“But their food is the least I can take from them after they took my whole life,” I disclosed, walking over to the edge of the bed.
My mouth watered as I saw the food. It looked just like a gourmet breakfast and smelled incredible.
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”
“I’m not,” I answered. Then, I added, “Even if I were, the sight of this steak might just be enough to make me change my mind.”
She chuckled again.
“My name is Agatha.”
“I’m Marielle. And you’re a good cook,” I praised through a mouthful of food.
“Thank you. I’m happy you like it.”
I nodded.
Then she broke the short silence.
“What brought you here? Not to pry. I was just wondering if it’s something you want to talk about.”
“You work here, right? I think you already know the answer to that question, considering the beasts you work for.”
“I know you were brought here against your will. But I know nothing beyond that. It’s not the first time they’ve captured someone, but it’s the first time they’ve brought them here.”
“I was brought here because they thought I was someone else. So, right now, I have no idea what happens next.”
“Oh…that’s a bad situation. Who did they think you were?”
“Someone’s wife. Someone I had been hanging out with without knowing he was married. So, now his wife is in his mansion while I’m being held here with no idea of when I’m gonna die.”
She shook her head from side to side. “Some men can be such callous liars.”
“I’d say they’re all bastards,” I spoke.
“I’m married to one, and I can say he’s nothing like a bastard,” she countered, smiling.
“Why are you here? I mean, how is a normal woman like yourself a cook for people like this?”
“I don’t think I’d call myself normal. I was born in this world of crime, just like these men you see here.
And that’s why I know they’re not as despicable as the outside world says.
Yes, they’re criminals. Yes, they’re damn scary.
But the loyalty that exists in the Mafia is something no other organization can attain. ”
“Do you realize you’re talking about criminals that terrorize people just because they can?”
“The Bratva is not a terrorist group. They don’t just go on shooting sprees like lunatics. They’re just the ones strong enough to do the dirty work that most people can’t do.”
“I never thought a day would come when I would hear a woman defend a criminal organization,” I remarked.
She laughed. “You don’t seem as scared as I would have expected.”
“I’m not that fragile. That was what got me here, anyway.”
“I don’t know what Sir Eduard will decide, but I have a good feeling about it. I don’t think killing you is in the cards.”
“Many things are worse than death,” I muttered.
“True. But I don’t see any of those things happening to you, either.”
“See? Like a vision?” I joked.
“No. I just have a strong intuition. And it’s the one thing I can trust not to lie to me.”
“Oh, even including your husband you’re very sure of?”
She laughed again. “Men in this world lie when they have to. Expecting them to never lie would be a fallacy. They lie when necessary to protect the people they care about.”
“Hm,” I mumbled, clearing my plate.
“Do you want anything else?”
“Nope. I’m more than okay—in terms of food, that is.”
“Maybe you could run a bath, or just have a warm shower. I’m sure you’ll feel better,” she suggested.
“Right.”
“I’ll find a way to bring some clothes.”
“Clothes that God-knows-how-many prisoners here have worn? I’ll pass.”
“Oh, no. I was talking about getting some from a nearby store.”
“You think they’d let you spend their precious money on that?”
“It won’t be much of a problem. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks, then.”
“It’s nothing,” she answered, going over to knock on the door.
The clicking of the lock came almost immediately, and she lifted the tray.
“You’ll be fine, Marielle,” she said over her shoulder before leaving me alone in the room.
“I hope so,” I said to myself.
Falling back into the bed, I looked up at the white ceiling.
Will I really get a chance to be free from here?
Will Lucien come for me?
If he didn’t care enough to tell me he was married, would he care enough to come for me?
Or was he gallivanting around with me because he heard these Mafia guys were coming for his wife?!
No, he’s not that heartless.
But what if he’s not coming for another reason?
He told me many things.
I remembered a recent conversation we had.
“It seems all the waiters know you. You must be a regular here,” I pointed out.
“I own it, darling.”
“You…are you serious? What exactly do you do? I mean, for you to own a club as huge as this!”
The volume of his laugh told me he was a bit tipsy, at least.
“I do a lot of things.”
“Like what and what?” I pressed.
“To start with, I launder money through different businesses. But the port in Baja is my biggest laundering business.”
“Stop kidding,” I dissuaded, laughing.
“Let me tell you more. I make a fortune from the Bratva. Since those guys stopped my business with their shipment, I have guys who intercept their arms suppliers. So, I skim from their deals every now and then.”
“Who are the Bratva?”
“The Russian guys, darling. They’re colder than the others,” he answered, then his voice dropped to a whisper. “If they came for me now, I’d disappear. With you, of course.”
“Hmm, so you’re telling me you’re a criminal?”
I had always thought he was involved in one or two dangerous jobs. But I was sure everything he told me that night was just drunk rubbish—until confirmed it was true at the art show.
He told me many things. I know too much.
Does that make me a loose end?
I’d seen enough action movies to know that loose ends were always cut off.
Now, I’m a liability.
One that Lucien would want to be rid of.
The realization chilled me to the bones.
The fact that I didn’t know what they intended to do with me was the real scare.
But, beneath all the fear and worry, the face of one man haunted me. The man who stared at me without flinching at the art event. The man who took me. The man who argued with me and looked at me like I was his.
Eduard Yezhov.
I’d be lying if I said that name hadn’t been seared into my memory from the moment he told me.
His intense eyes rarely shifted, even when I yelled at him and insulted the organization he talked about with so much pride. I had thought Lucien’s eyes hid secrets until I met Eduard. Eduard’s eyes didn’t just conceal things; that striking gaze carried a depth that could bury someone.
The man didn’t just seem to have things under control; he exuded control. While I was on the floor with my life in ruins, he stood unfazed. His composure didn’t crack. Aside from the unexpected grin he gave me, clearly pleased to see that his men had dealt with me, his face was impassive.
But his steely composure wasn’t what rattled me.
It was the curiosity that washed over me at the mere thought of him. The curiosity about what it would take to crack that composure of his. Just the thought of ruffling his feathers and getting under his skin caused a funny tightness in my chest.
I tossed the pillow beside me against the wall.
I hated this feeling of my body betraying me. It was more than upsetting that I was thinking of messing that already tousled brown hair of his. That the image of having my hand against his chest made my body shudder.
But what more do I have to lose?
Clearly, I’m on my own.
No one is coming to save me.
Cracking that composure might be my best shot.
Maybe I can frustrate him enough to drive me out of his mansion and want nothing to do with me. But it won’t be easy.
I turned to the right to look at my reflection in the mirror. My bruises weren’t so serious as to disfigure me.
I’ll take my chances.
Well, he’s still a man.
All men crack.