Lahat ng Kabanata ng Becoming Mrs. Blackstone: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Cold.So much cold.It seeps through my scanty, torn shirt and burns through my skin, chilling my nerves and bloodstream. It makes my bones ache and my teeth chatter with a resilient rhythm. I lie on the concrete floor, my hair hanging in dark, frozen icicles down my stiff face. I can barely blink my eyes. My sixteen year old, once powerful frame rattles helplessly, in time with the depressing sounds of ice drops that fall against the tiny window of my cell. Winter in Russia is horrible. Winter in a Russian prison is a total nightmare. The cold makes you numb. Your lips, limbs and even eyelashes become completely numb.This is not the conventional Russian prison, mind you. It is more like an illegal cell facility, established by the Russian crime syndicate, the Bratva. Here, petty crimes and big crimes are punished in equal measure, no matter the age of the offender.In the cell next to mine, a ten year old boy is held—for stealing a loaf of bread from the local markets under Brat

London"Father's been acting strange all week."Yulia pauses the smooth motion of the brush she's been running through my hair and meets my worried gaze in the mirror."How do you mean?"I huff."Oh, don't act like you haven't noticed. He's always looking worried. He barely eats, sweats alot and he does not even look me in the eye when he's talking to me anymore."I run my fingers through the smooth surface of my dresser."Something's definitely wrong, Yulia. And from the looks of it, it's bad."I stare at Yulia earnestly through the mirror, willing her to agree with me.She purses her lips for a while, contemplating my words."Well, you're right about one thing. Something's not right."I heave a sigh of relief. Atleast I've not been imagining things."Want to go snooping?"Yulia's already wide eyes widens even more. She has such beautiful eyes.Yulia is just drop dead beautiful, full stop. Sometimes I wonder how she ended up as my personal maid."What exactly would you gain from that

New YorkI get to my feet and walk down to the bank of floor to ceiling windows that give my office a magnificent view of Central Park."We're not up against an ordinary enemy here. Romanov is smart... too smart, I must say."Ricardo begins tapping a foot against the marble floors."That is where you come in, boss. You will marry Romanov's daughter in place of Ramsey Mikhailov. But for that to happen, we need a foolproof plan.""It would be easier if you were up against just one enemy." Thelma says quietly.Ricardo and I turn to her."Excuse me?" I ask. Thelma sighs."Romanov is not a strong enough opponent compared to his Personal Assistant and Chief Adviser."Her eyes darken with contempt,"That man is pure evil. He's the brain power behind most of Romanov's best, well laid plans. Richard Smollett. The demon in a suit."I eye her thoughtfully,"Smollett. Now why does that name sound so familiar?" Ricardo asks"Because it is."Ricardo gives me a sharp look from across the room."How

London."That was him, wasn't it?"Ricardo's low voice intrudes in my thoughts as he comes around to stand beside me. I remain silent, gazing intently at the exit, willing the blue eyed goddess that just disappeared through to make another stunning entrance.Fuck!I've had my share of beautiful women but no one rivals the effortless beauty of this dark haired siren. No one even comes close. She looks like a little fucking temptress in that dress. A temptress I would love spread eagle on my bed – bare assed naked.Her blue eyes sparkle brighter than the famous blue diamond itself. Eyes so expressive, I know she's probably dissecting my personality right about now. I shut my eyes briefly, recalling that split moment when I took notice of her. She had come down from the fancy car just as we drove into the garage. She stood out almost immediately. Like a fucking beacon in the midst of the garage's drab background.Through the tinted windows of my Aston Martin, my eyes feasted on her plump

LONDON.I cannot help it. I scream. They pay me no attention. Marcus recovers from the initial shock and begins fighting back, throwing punches that Mr. Dangerous dodges so expertly. I look around in desperation, trying to see why no one has come to intervene. At this rate, they might probably pummel themselves to death. The restaurant has gone deathly silent, it's posh clientele watching the brawl in awe.I look through the sea of faces, sighting the handsome man who spoke with the Dark god earlier. He's sipping from a glass of red wine, his face, a clear picture of boredom as he watches the scene. What is wrong with these people?!Marcus and his opponent are merely staring each other down now. Fists have been subdued for the meantime. My chest clench in horror when I take in his swollen cheeks and broken lips. The stranger on the other hand appears like he just engaged in a slight scuffle – not a strand of hair out of place. The only sign that indicates that he just about brought t