4. Mila
MILA
I 'd felt uneasy lately, wanting to go back into hiding. All the flashing cameras and the thrum of high society was taking a toll on me. Today was one of the few days I had to myself before I was paraded around town again by another state official. The Chief of Police liked me enough, or maybe a council member this time.
I had to admit the money was good. I had enough to get myself a new apartment on the upper side of Seattle, and I finally lived comfortably. Sabrina had come through, she’d offered me protection and so far, nothing bad had happened to me.
Most of the men I entertained were a mix of desire and loneliness, their needs simmering just beneath the surface. Some craved raw, unapologetic sex; others wanted a submissive pet to command. A few had darker, more twisted desires, eager for me to fulfill fantasies they’d never dared speak aloud. Every man had his kink, his vice, and once I bent to their whim, they were mine—completely and utterly at my mercy.
No one dared lay a hand on me without permission. No one crossed the lines I drew or spoke to me out of place. This world I stepped into was a playground of power and indulgence, and the perks Sabrina promised were almost sinful. Diamonds draped my neck, silks adorned my body, and every meal was a decadent affair. I had it all, and yet, in the shadows of this new life, there was a darkness—a weight that clung to my throat, as heavy as the diamonds that now lay on it.
It wasn’t just paranoia. A presence lingered over me, and I sensed something was wrong. Someone didn’t belong and I was being watched, the thought made my pulse race for all the wrong reasons. Wherever I went, the sensation of being followed grew stronger, coiling tight around my nerves like a predator toying with its prey. It wasn’t fear that crept into my soul—it was anticipation, a seductive threat that both terrified and thrilled me.
I took a deep breath, the Saturday morning sun bathed the farmer's market in a warm glow as I strolled along the pier. It was my day off and I needed some semblance of normality. The air was thick with the scent of the sea as the Puget Sound lay to my left and the scent of freshly squeezed pineapple juice lured me in on the right. Fresh produce and blooming flowers aligned the stalls and I took it all in. The pleasant hum of activity surrounded me, but that subtle unease still clung to my senses.
I selected a few ripe fruits from one stall, and moved slowly toward the fragrant flowers. I tried to ignore it but the feeling of being watched intensified. My fingers brushed against the soft petals of a sunflower, and a shiver traced its way down my spine. I scanned the bustling market, my eyes darting between the sea of unfamiliar faces, searching for the source of my anxiety.
I tried to shake the feeling away. Telling myself I was just being paranoid. I tried to keep focused, enjoy the day, but then I suddenly caught a glimpse of him – a shadowy figure lingering out of my peripheral vision. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to make out his features, but he remained hidden in the crowd. Anxiety coiled in my stomach, and a sense of fear washed over me.
My pace quickened as I moved through the market, the weight of his gaze following me. Each time I turned toward him, he seemed to slip into the shadows. At one point I thought it was me seeing things out of nothing. Panic began to thread through my mind as I questioned whether it was just paranoia or was it a real threat that haunted me.
I adjusted the bouquet of flowers and fruits in my hands, stealing another glance over my shoulder. There he was again, a silhouette in the distance, his eyes fixed on me. The bustling market seemed to fade away as the realization set in – I was truly being stalked. Dread settled in my chest as I quickened my pace, weaving through the market's labyrinth of stalls. My surroundings blurred, and the vibrant colors of the market and brightness of the day seemed to close in on me. The weight of his gaze intensified, and I became acutely aware of how vulnerable I truly was.
I was careful, not wanting to cause a scene, or let him know I'd seen him. I reached the edge of the market, the crowd thinning as I entered a quieter street. Panic clawed at my throat as I dared to look back, but he was nowhere to be found. As I went up another street, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I didn't turn, I kept walking, knowing he was there. It wasn't a figment of my imagination. There was someone, a man, stalking me.
My steps became hurried, the rhythmic thud of my heart pounding in my ears drowned out the sounds of the traffic. The realization that I was being followed left me numb with fear. I fumbled for my phone, hands trembling as I went to dial the only number I had memorized, Sabrina Wellchild's. She was the only one in my life who knew what I was worth to Yulian Volkov. The only one who had offered protection.
The phone rang but she wasn't picking up as I continued to rush down the street, my eyes darting between the people around me, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was in the shadows, waiting to pounce at me. The line between reality and my fears blurred with each step. The sunny market now felt claustrophobic, where an unseen murderer lurked, waiting for me to falter.
I quickened my pace, my senses on high alert, as my phone call went to voicemail, and frustration mixed with fear as I navigated the familiar streets, my every step shadowed by the persistent figure. I didn't know where I was headed, all I could think was that I didn't want him to follow me home. I shuddered at the thought of him already knowing where I lived.
The city sounds seemed distant and I focused on my next move as I quickly ducked into a small restaurant, the jingle of the door announcing my arrival. Glancing around, I sought refuge among the tables, desperately searching for signs of the stalker outside.
My breath caught as I glimpsed him through the café's window, lingering on the sidewalk just outside the door. Panic gripped me, and I quickly slid into a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Sliding down in the seat, I clutched the sunflowers I’d bought, to my chest, hiding my face in them while my eyes fixated on the man outside.
He wore a black leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and black boots. He had a black baseball cap and dark sunglasses. He stood sideways and I couldn't make out his face. He had a slight five o'clock shadow and he looked young, maybe late twenties. His face darted left and right as if searching for me.
Time seemed to stretch as I waited, my eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds. A waitress brought me a cup of coffee, the warmth of the ceramic mug was comforting against the chill that had settled in my bones. I sipped the coffee, each gulp a desperate attempt to steady my nerves.
The stalker lingered outside, and I contemplated whether to run, my mind racing through the options as I weighed the risks of leaving the safety of my seat. The restaurant’s atmosphere became stifling, the air thick with tension.
As the minutes stretched into an eternity, I noticed a group of people leaving the café, creating a natural distraction. Seizing the opportunity, I slipped through a side exit, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the stranger. When I didn’t see him, I ran. I ran for blocks, at some point discarding the flowers I bought as I hailed a taxi. I glanced over my shoulder as it pulled away. That’s when I saw him. His eyes met mine as he stood on the corner watching the taxi drive by. A chill ran down my spine as those dark eyes never left mine.
I slumped down in the back seat watching as the city streets swept by. I had questions.
Who was he?
What did he want?
Did Yulian send him?
Back at my apartment I locked the door behind me and sank onto the couch, the weight of the day settling in. dread seeped into my mind, the fear of being at Yulian’s mercy paralyzing me once again. I jumped at the sound of the phone ringing, and seeing Sabrina's name flash on the screen, I quickly answered.
“Sabrina?”
“I saw your missed call, is everything okay?”
“I'm not sure,” I walked toward the window, glancing down at the street below, still searching for the man I’d seen. His dark eyes flashed in my mind, and I shivered.
“What's wrong?” Sabrina sounded somewhat concerned.
“There was a man…I don't know who he is, but I could swear he was following me.”
“Was he a Bratva?” She asked, after a moment's pause.
“I…I don't know. He didn't look like one.”
“The police?” She continued, seeming more interested in how this could affect her than how it could affect me.
I could see him standing there, hands in his pockets, that severe click to his jaw. He looked menacing but not a cop. “Didn't look like the police.”
“Maybe it was just your imagination. You've been through a lot Mila. There's no need to worry.”
“But…”
I wasn't able to respond before she continued. “If you see him again let me know. For now, there's no cause for concern. He didn't hurt you, did he?”
“No. He was more like hiding from me.”
“Maybe he wants to solicit you. You are becoming popular now” she chuckled, her voice softening. “Don't worry. I'm sure it's nothing. Go get some rest, you have a big day tomorrow.”
I slid the phone onto the kitchen counter, but I couldn't shake the fact that the man had been following me. Looking out the window, I scanned the street again, hoping Sabrina was right and it was just my mind playing tricks on me.