IV

Rebecca

My body quivered with an indescribable fear as I gazed at the man standing before me. Trembling, I couldn't bring myself to look at his face when he yanked me out from under the bed. My attention was consumed by overwhelming terror.

However, his command to look up caught me off guard, and what I saw took my breath away. It was a momentary reprieve from the realization that he could end my life at any second. I ceased to consider escape or the imminent danger. All I could do was fixate on his bluish-steel eyes, reminiscent of the midwinter sky.

When he advanced toward me, my heart skipped a beat. Each step he took exuded power and strength. His movements exuded confidence. I tried to retreat, but he halted me with his gun. His presence emanated that of a leader, a dangerous one. The air around him turned icy.

As he came to a halt right in front of me, our chests almost touching, my body quivered with a mix of fear and anticipation. I should have been screaming and fleeing, but there was something about him that rendered me immobile. His touch felt electric, making my entire being hum with a strange warmth. I no longer felt the cold. When his warm hand caressed my cheek, I longed to nuzzle against his palm like a kitten seeking affection.

It dawned on me just how imposing he was. Compared to my small stature, he loomed like a giant. My head barely reached the middle of his broad, muscular chest. I felt fragile and insignificant in his presence. Yet, inexplicably, his proximity made me feel at ease. Unlike when Raffaele was near me, causing my skin to crawl with revulsion and fear, this enigmatic man's presence was oddly comforting. Even with his gun pointed at me, I felt an unexplainable sense of safety.

However, everything changed when his expression hardened, giving way to anger. Startled, I jumped as he abruptly stepped back. His entire body tensed, and he aimed the gun back at me. My eyes widened, and my heart raced. Had it all been a cruel game? Did he pretend to soften towards me, only to lull me into a false sense of security before pulling the trigger?

Tears streamed down my dirt-streaked, bruised cheeks. His eyes remained fixed on my tears, tracing their path. When they reached my chin, I noticed a smile forming on his face. It was a smile that oozed dangerous malice, sending chills down my spine. Oh God, this man was going to end my life.

"Who the fuck are you, and why are you here?" he growled deeply, his voice low yet teeming with danger and anger. I recognized that tone all too well. It was the same tone Raffaele used before taking someone's life. He had used it on me too, each night when he violated my body against my will.

Terror coursed through me, likely evident on my face and in my trembling. The sound of my gasping breaths drowned out everything else, pulsating in my ears. A chill settled over me, and I had to clench my knees together to keep from taking a step back. I knew that any movement on my part would result in him shooting me.

Taking several steps backward, he kept the gun aimed at me as he found a seat on the couch, crossing his right foot over his left knee. The gun remained pointed at my chest.

"I... I am... my..." I stammered, struggling to speak. Raffaele and my father had made countless enemies. What if this man was one of them?

"I won't repeat myself, so you better start talking. You have thirty seconds," he warned, his impatience palpable, each word twisting his face with anger.

"Rebecca. My name is Rebecca," I blurted out, my voice hoarse.

"Rebecca," he whispered, my name rolling off his tongue like molasses. His deep voice reverberated through my body. "Rebecca," he repeated, and despite myself, I found solace in the way he said my name. It carried a gentle quality that resonated with me.

Pull yourself together, Rebecca. This man is on the brink of killing you. You're being foolish, Rebecca. Focus.

"What is your last name, Rebecca? And why are you here?" he inquired, his words deliberate as he continued to lock eyes with me. I inhaled deeply, trying to gauge how much I should reveal. His gaze never wavered, and when I hesitated in my response, he leaned forward with anger etched on his face. "Now, Rebecca. Consider yourself fortunate that I'm being patient. But I won't ask again."

I nodded, but he pressed on.

”Allow me to introduce myself. I'm certain my name is familiar to you: Artemy Loskutov," the man declared, speaking in a hushed tone.

My entire body froze, and I found myself staring speechlessly at the man seated before me, feeling a wave of numbness creeping over me. No. It couldn't be.

My heart pounded with alarm as I locked eyes with his unmoving, icy gaze. Oh God, please, no. It couldn't be him.

"Does the name ring a bell?" he inquired.

An agonizing twist wracked my stomach, and my vision blurred. I felt myself teetering forward, but managed to steady myself before my face met the floor.

Oh, it definitely rang a bell. Dread and horror flooded my being. I thought I had escaped from dangerous individuals, but the man before me surpassed them all in terms of peril. He was feared by everyone.

Yet, more importantly, I was trapped because I represented his greatest adversary. My family was his greatest enemy. The Italians. The Cavalieri.

The Italians and the Russians had been locked in enmity for countless decades, but the animosity between the Loskutov and the Cavalieri ran deep.

And now, I stood face to face with the Boss, a man who would show no mercy in ending my life if he discovered that I was a Cavalieri.

I locked eyes with Artemy. I had evaded one deadly man, and now I awaited my fate in front of an even deadlier and more dangerous one.

Closing my eyes, I focused on calming my breathing. Think, Rebecca. You escaped from one. You can do it again.

Opening my eyes, I met his gaze, my body still trembling with silent tremors, and I straightened myself, standing a little taller.

"Rebecca Turrini. My name is Rebecca Turrini," I uttered slowly. I wasn't prepared to die. I had run away because I desired a better life, a chance to finally be myself. I wouldn't allow this man to snatch away my newfound freedom.

So, I lied.

Swallowing hard, I pressed on. "I've been living on the streets for a few months, and some men found me, wanting to force me into working at a brothel. I escaped and took refuge in your car. When your guards discovered me, I panicked and hid under your bed."

The lie flowed effortlessly from my lips. My heart pounded fiercely against my chest. This was an immense risk, and I hoped and prayed that he would believe me.

Artemy leaned back, uncrossing his legs. "Hmmm," he murmured, never breaking his gaze from me.

Silence enveloped us for a few agonizing minutes, and with each passing second, my body grew more tense. Fear twisted my stomach into knots.

Artemy leaned forward once more, resting his elbows on his knees and intertwining his fingers. It was then that I noticed he was no longer armed.

I shifted my gaze towards his sides, and there, on the couch next to his hip, I noticed his gun resting. Returning my focus to his face, I found him staring at me, his gaze growing more intense. Was he convinced? Artemy Loskutov was a man enveloped in numerous secrets, dark secrets. Furthermore, he possessed an unpredictable nature. Suddenly, he broke the silence with an unexpected proposition. His voice startled me, causing my body to shudder.

"I have a proposition for you," he stated abruptly. I stood before him, trembling, while he continued, "You have three choices." His voice remained monotonous, leaving me uncertain of his intentions.

"One: You work for me," he declared, his voice devoid of inflection, making it difficult to discern his true motives. "Two: You return to the streets, where you'll be unsafe." He paused, and my body froze in response. "Three: Or I shoot you for trespassing," he concluded.

His words left me breathless as he fell silent. Artemy’s lips curled into a slight smile, anticipating my response. My eyes widened as I struggled to contemplate my options. Anxious and uncomfortable, I nervously rubbed my throat with a shaky hand.

Option three was clearly not viable; it wasn't even worth considering. Option two meant being homeless, without money, vulnerable on the streets, and an easy target for Raffaele’s men. Option one promised financial security and perhaps a place to live. However, there was a significant drawback: if he ever discovered my true identity, I would be dead.

Maintaining eye contact with Artemy, I pondered my choices. Above all, I focused on my survival. Only one option seemed to offer any hope.

"One," I whispered hoarsely, my gaze locked with Artemy’s eyes. Surprise flickered across his face, soon replaced by a broad smile.

In that moment, I knew.

With my response, I had surrendered myself to him. I was no longer in control of my own fate; I belonged to him. Artemy rose from his seat and approached me with measured steps, exuding confidence. When he drew near, he reached out and gently touched a grimy strand of my hair.

"Good choice, Rebecca," Artemy remarked, his voice sending shivers down my spine. Why did his voice have to be so... intimate? The thought sent a jolt of realization through me. No, Rebecca. Don't lose yourself.

"I'm pleased that you've decided to work for me," he said, the words hanging in the air, freezing my body. He stared at me, his gaze intense.

Artemy moved even closer until our bodies were pressed together. He trailed his finger down my bruised cheek.

"I will ensure that you won't regret this decision," he whispered huskily.

Wait, what? Did he mean... No, he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Oh, but he would. He was Artemy Loskutov. Nothing had ever been denied to him. And I just said yes to his offer.

My breathing and heartbeat seemed unbearably loud. I was convinced he could hear them. Artemy bent down until his eyes met mine.

"Don't worry. I won't harm you," he reassured.

I swallowed hard and quickly moistened my lips. His gaze followed the movement, his once cold eyes turning intense and heated. He licked his own lips and whispered, "Unless you want me to."

I gasped in shock, causing my chest to brush against his, sending a shiver through my body. Was it fear or anticipation?

"Um...what...what do you mean by work?" I asked, stumbling over my words.

He took another step closer, making me instinctively take a step back. Artemy loomed over me, his presence overwhelming, making me feel small and weak.

"Exactly what it implies...work," he continued in a husky voice.

Oh my God, please no. Anything but that.

"What kind of work?" I asked again, my voice barely audible.

Artemy locked eyes with me, his blue meeting my green.

We stared at each other, unblinking. Tension filled the air, but I couldn't decipher its nature. No, I refused to understand or acknowledge it.

Suddenly, he took a step back. I exhaled in relief, my tense muscles relaxing. Artemy stood upright, towering over me, his gaze hard once again.

"My maids need some assistance. You'll help with cleaning and cooking," he stated briskly.

Huh? He wanted me to clean and cook?

I stared at him in confusion. Artemy was undoubtedly the most perplexing man I had ever encountered—confusing, mysterious, and dangerous.

"You want me to clean and...cook?" I asked, bewildered. He tilted his head to the side, still looking at me. Then, he smiled, the same malicious smile as before.

"Yes," he replied, taking a step toward me, invading my personal space once more. "Did you think I meant something else?" His voice held a suggestive tone as his finger traced lightly up my right arm.

Yes. Yes, I did think you meant something else. I thought you wanted me to be your wh—I stopped the thought. Don't go there, Rebecca.

I shook my head rapidly, my hair falling over my face. Artemy raised his hand and brushed my hair away, exposing my face to him again.

I nervously swallowed, awaiting his next move. The warmth of his hand against my face melted away the numbness in my body. I despised how his touch had that effect on me. I detested that he could make me tremble in fear one moment and fill me with warmth the next. Inside and out.