Andrei's POV I've known Paul for what feels like an eternity — through thick and thin, ups and downs. He's been more than just a friend or colleague; he's been my rock, my confidant, my partner in every sense. But lately, I've been plagued by doubts, serious doubts. Now, I'm faced with the unsettling possibility that Paul might be involved in all this chaos. The thought alone makes my stomach turn. Could the one person I've trusted with my life be the very one betraying me? It's a question I never thought I'd have to ask, but here I am, wondering if our years of friendship and loyalty have been nothing more than a clever ruse. It's a real pain in the neck dealing with him and his issues. If only he could get his act together and start behaving like a decent human being, maybe things would run more smoothly. But no, he's vanished into thin air. I'm talking zero trace, zero communication. It's like he never existed. And the worst part? He was the last person I sent to fet
Andrei's POV “You've got a lot of nerve showing up here, Jeremy. You're not forgiven. Not by a long shot. So don't think for a second that you can just waltz in here and expect everything to be okay. You better leave.” “Can't you see I'm trying to make amends? I've changed, and I want to prove it to you. All I'm asking is for a chance to meet my nephew, Alexis. Is that too much to ask?” I meet Jeremy's gaze, my expression cold and unyielding. There's no sympathy, no weakness in my eyes. He may think he's found a way back into the family's good graces, but he's mistaken. “Whatever delusions you have of redemption, of second chances, they don't matter here. Get back in your car, leave.” He glances back at his car, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of his true self: a smug, self-assured individual who thinks he can charm his way out of anything. “No worries, brother, Next time I'll make sure to let you know I'm coming. You know so you can barricade yourself inside and hide. Wouldn'
Brielle's POV The bathroom's lavish decor is truly fit for royalty, brimming with lavish details that dazzle the senses. My gaze is darting everywhere, drinking in the luxurious marble floors, gold fixtures, and the crazy exotic scents too. I inhale deeply, the scent of vanilla bean Noel and caramelized amber envelops me, transporting me to a world of tranquility. It's like my worries are dissolving in a warm bubble bath. But, just as I'm about to surrender to the bliss, my conscience decides to stage an intervention. 'Hey, snap out of it! This isn't a five-star hotel – it's a hostage situation!' I blink back to reality. That’s me, standing there like a deer in the headlights, trying to process the cognitive dissonance of being held hostage in a palace of caramel-scented luxury. As if the situation couldn’t get any more lavish, I spot freaking sauna – a real-life, steam-emitting temple of zen – nestled in the corner of this already-insane bathroom. It's weird how the
Brielle's POV. “My shooter's just waiting for the green light. Don't make me give the order. It’s that simple.” I swallow hard, realizing that this is no idle threat—this man means business, and he’s playing a game I don’t know the rules to. As much as it terrifies me, I force myself to nod. “Go. Take the papers from Andrei. Don't speak. Don't hesitate. Just bring them back to me.” Our eyes meet, and I nod, signaling my understanding. He accepts my silent assent and resumes his instructions. “Get the papers, then head to exit five. I'll be there, waiting for you. We'll leave together, nice and quiet. Eyes on you, don't mess this up.” The music stops. The party freezes. He releases my arm, and in an instant, he's gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Masks glint, jewels flash, and the murmur of conversations assaults my senses. The room tilts, and I stumble, my senses reeling. The sound of my name, or rather, the term 'beautiful', startles me. I spin around, and my gaze m
Andrei's POV Those piercing blue eyes, like sapphires shining bright, visible behind the ornate red Venetian mask, ring a bell deep within me. They're eyes I've gazed into countless times, eyes that have sparkled with laughter, shone with tears, and burned with passion. They're Brielle's eyes. In them, I see fear, but I also see fire, the spark that tells me she's still fighting, still holding on. And that's all I need to see. That's all I need to know. She's no coward, something's got her spooked and I won't let her down. My hand falls away from her arm, and gently hand her the papers. “Here, take it.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide, as she takes the papers. I want to reach out, wrap my arms around her, and shield her from all this. I can't. And it's torture unlike any other. She slips away. I pray to whatever gods are out there that she comes back to me, holding on to the thought that as soon as she hands over those papers, she'll be free — free to come back to me, to lea
Andrei's POV. My leather jacket is all that's keeping me from freezing my ass off. I glare down at my phone—10:00 PM. With time to kill, I decide to grab a coffee while I wait for my meeting with a key business associate. I've got to keep the wheels turning, no matter the chaos. Lucas Rossini, He's a major player in the oil world and is scheduled to arrive soon. This meeting could be the turning point we need. So I'll bide my time with a cup of black gold, watching the clock tick… My thoughts are a jumbled mess, with Brielle's face the only clear picture amidst the coffee shop's bustle. “Last call, sir. We're closing in 15.” I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light that permeates the café, revealing empty tables, chairs neatly stacked, and the quiet stillness of the nearly deserted establishment. The waitress is standing there, looking pretty patient, but I can tell she's getting a little annoyed. I glance at my watch and, sure enough, an hour's gone by. I pay up and
Brielle's POV. “How long are you gonna keep me here?” I demand, chasing after my captor, determined to get some answers before he vanishes again, “Show yourself, you coward! What else do you want from me?” He doesn't slow his stride, his silence only heightening my agitation. “Damn it, answer me!” He pivots to face me, features obscured by a black, balaclava erasing any hint of humanity. “You think you're in a position to demand answers, Monroe?” “Yes, I am!” I fire back, “You got what you wanted from Andrei. He held up his end of the deal. Now let me go!” “You're not going anywhere. Not until I'm finished with you.” “Think again, hotshot I’m not some damsel in distress, waiting to be saved. You can shove your twisted game straight up your…" I bite back profanity. He tilts his head, his balaclava doing little to conceal the malicious mirth that dances in his eyes. “Spunk like that is why Andrei picked you.” "Enough of this sick game! If you're going to take my life, then
Brielle's POV “So, you've faced down worse than some mystery man in a balaclava. Let's see how you like the tables turned.” His back turned to me, he deftly pours a glass of wine, the rich ruby liquid swirling against the crystal. “How about you strip for me? Think you can handle that?” His eyes harden as they travel over my body. With an audacious tilt of his head, and a devilish smirk, He raises his glass with flair, “To a night of revelation.” His eyes pin me in place as he stands over me, sipping his wine with an air of quiet confidence. My eyes dart down to the floor, and I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. “I'm taken, sorry.” “Andrei ever asked you to undress for him?” The cadence of his words holds a mesmerizing quality and For a split second, I see a flash of hunger in his eyes, and it makes my breath catch. It's like he's craving something — and I'm not sure if it's the wine or me. I look away again, not wanting to get sucked into the vortex of his charisma – it's just
Brielle's POV Final chapter. “Fine,” Jeremy voice cracks with restraint, the single word drawn out in a reluctant admission. I'm low-key freaking out, my heart racing with anticipation. He's just about confessing. “I'm the one who orchestrated the whole thing. I snatched Brielle's parents right from under their noses, ripping them from their picture-perfect lives. i'd kidnapped her, held her captive against her will, and drained your bank accounts. But here's the kicker, Andrei… you're too little, too late. The police are already en route, and they're coming for you, not me.” I take a deep breath, my eyes burning with determination. “No way, Jeremy. I won't let you pin Jamie's murder on Andrei. He's innocent." He narrows his gaze at me, “You know, for a hostage, you're awfully opinionated.” I sneak a peek at Andrei, and his 'I've got this' expression makes me feel like everything's gonna be okay. I mean, Jeremy's still being his usual, awful self, but with Andrei's ca
Brielle's POV “Just trying to appreciate the finer things in life, Andrei. Like that fine-ass butt.” I admit feeling my face heat up. He chuckles, clearly enjoying my unabashed admiration, “that's… Probably the most creative compliment I ever heard and the way yours fills out that robe is criminal, Brielle.” I suppress the urge to turn around. This mutual butt appreciation is getting ridiculous – or ridiculously entertaining. He scans the room, gathering his belongings. Meanwhile, I stand there, a robe-clad without any to change into or not to talk of clothings to put in a box and yesterday's clothes that are so last season — literally. Just when the silence is about to get deafening, Andrei breaks it with a casual suggestion, “you should shower first.” My mind whirs. I’m thinking, Geez, how do I break this news to him without making it super awkward?” The last thing I want is to be standing there, naked, with no clothes to put on, while he just stares at me like I’ve gon
Brielle's POV I'm deliciously spent, my senses sated. Andrei executes a brief, yet vital, wardrobe adjustment, then turns around, patting his back invitingly, “Okay, up you go.” They say “there’s a first time for everything”, and today I’m getting my inaugural piggyback ride—. Courtesy of Andrei. With the grace of a seal gliding onto an iceberg, I slide my bare rear off the table, leaving behind only a warm imprint of my departure. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight as he firmly grasps my thighs, lifting me up. With his support, I hop onto his back. “Comfortable?” He asks. “Mhm, perfect.” Our journey begins with a trio of solid thuds, Andrei’s feet hitting the floorboards of the pavilion as he descends. The night air is refreshingly still and quiet… except for the sound of my nervous laughter and Andrei's steady breathing as he navigates the stairs. His usually steady gait falters, his foot catching on some unseen obstacle, and my weight threatens to send him
Brielle's POV He leans in again, His mouth hovering over my breast, “How many white lies have you told?” “One.” He pulls back, “Think again.” I knit my brow trying to focus, to pull my scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. It's a futile effort. I'm still drowning in waves of pure ecstasy. Andrei's lips close around my nipple, and I moan at the sudden sensation. He releases all too soon, again. “Two lies, baby” he purrs. “The first, when you said you never fucked yourself.” His words ignite a thrill that courses through my body, culminating in a sweet ache between my legs. “And the second when you denied ever having fantasies. Now, are you ready to confess them to me… and be rewarded?” His grip on my hand slackens, freeing my fingers to roam. He’s upon me, his mouth latching onto my nipple. Sensation overwhelm my ability to think as His tongue swirls and dances, only to pull back again, letting my nipple pop out of his mouth with a wet plop. I writhe be
Brielle's POV “I'd taken his crap before, no problem. He'd kick my ass, I'd take it. But watch him hurt a three-year-old?” That chuckle, that creepy-ass chuckle, is making my hair stand on end. Andrei's got a lot to say, needs to stop drowning in that drink and talk it out with me. Perhaps if we can get to the root of whatever’s got him so twisted, we can cut it out, get him right again. I screw up my courage, trying to keep my voice from cracking as I ask, “What happened next?” “I lost it. Charged at him and slammed him to the ground. I had him in a tight chokehold, crushing the air out of him. His face turned purple, eyes popping… Killing Archibald wasn't the plan. Just wanted to put the fear of God into him… In a wild twist, he managed to grab a blade and… Carved himself a nasty gash.” Andrei scrapes his thumb along the side of his neck, “This is where he sliced himself. Fucker cried assault. Tried to put me away for attempted murder.” “And Helen?” “Was locked up a
Brielle's POV He gives my earlobe a sneaky little nibble. Damn, if that doesn't stir up something inside me, “Why rush when the journey is half the fun, hmm? We've got lines to run, not lips to lock.” So glad Andrei's here to suck the fun out of… everything. What would I do without him? I'm two seconds away from giving him a good shove, just to knock him off his game. “What?” he asks, that infuriatingly smug smirk still slapped across his face. I purse my lips, cross my arms, “You're really asking 'what'? Like you don't know exactly what you're doing?” Andrei whips out a sheaf of papers from his back pocket, "Shall we begin?” I narrow my eyes, “You expect me to jump right into this after all your little games?” He chuckles, shrugging one shoulder in a charmingly nonchalant gesture. “It's all part of the rehearsal.” “Part of the rehearsal, huh?” I retort, “So that little earlobe nibbling number was in the script? I must have missed that memo.” He laughs," I figure
Brielle's POV My heart stutters, “What?” I try to speak. The words wouldn't come out. Not one single word is showing up to the party. Wearing a sidelong smirk, Andrei jerks his head towards the elevator, “she's been tapping her foot impatiently. Shall we give the poor thing some attention?” Nodding, I swallow my regret. Why didn't I just say something? “I'm intrigued, Brielle. This demure side of you is… unexpected.” He plunders the guest room closet, digging through piles of high-quality linens, designer clothes, and expensive accessories. it's basically a carbon copy of his own — super luxurious. I stand back, curious about what Andrei's searching for. My nerves are still on edge, which is… ridiculous. “Guess, I'll coax them out of you. Every last one.” My curiosity spikes, “How?” “All in good time. Shall we get you into something a bit more… refined?” The robe he hands me is a stunner — bold red, V-neck, and flowing long sleeves, all accented perfectly with
Brielle's POV. Drying soap bubbles speckle Andrei's hands as he meets my eyes, “What's so fascinating?” “It's your charm, Mr. Carter, that's got me in a stare.” His mouth curves into a sly, upward tilt, “You're not so bad yourself. Maybe we can stare at each other for a while and see who cracks first.” Deep down, I'm thinking, 'Seriously, Mr. Carter? Are you not seeing this ensemble?' Perhaps he's just trying to be kind? Yeah, that must be it. After completing the dishes, Andrei takes a moment to dry his hands before wandering over to where I'm sitting, his pace leisurely. I stare at his bare feet, my brain momentarily fixated on the sight. “Why no shoes, Mr. Carter?” “Walking barefoot is like a yoga practice. Builds up the balance, strengthens the soles, and gets you in touch with Mother Earth.” I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. How much of that is actually true, I wonder? He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me gently into his orbit. And suddenly, my focus shifts from An
Brielle's POV. Andrei’s sweatpants could have fit two of me—and the kitchen sink. He’s a big guy, but these pants were made for a grizzly bear on a beer bender. If I didn’t cinch the drawstrings tight enough, I’d be wading in a sea of fabric, wearing a tent masquerading as sweatpants. I’m halfway through adjusting my shirt when I catch a glimpse of my him in the kitchen. Oh, dear lord. The man might as well be wearing oven mitts for hands. I reach for a bottle of water, partly because I’m parched, and partly to cover up the fit of giggles that’s about to erupt from my lungs “You okay, chef?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face as I watch him fumble with the spatula. “Yeah, sure Brielle.” He scratches his forehead, and I can practically see the sweat beading up. Poor baby's never looked so stressed. “Sure you've totally got this, Andrei?” I survey the chaos, raising an eyebrow at the egg-astrophe. The shells are scattered everywhere and there's a bowl of what appears to be e