Chapter 1
ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋ, ʜᴜɴᴛ, ᴘʀᴇʏ 🔪
I’ve been on the hunt for some new dresses, but my friend didn’t want to come with me. She told me she had a cold and bowed out of another dress-hunting session with me. Sadly, I had to be here alone, looking through them.
A shiver ran down my spine. Is someone watching me?
The feeling of eyes on me was unsettling—ironic, considering I am the only daughter of the Don, the world’s most feared yet respected individual. Nothing goes unnoticed, even if you decide to wage war on a turf.
Intelligence means gaining something here in my world. As I turned my head, just slightly to check who was watching me so intently, I couldn’t help but feel frightened.
Move, Blair. Move. Find an exit.
I should slap myself silly because how the hell did I say ‘no’ to 24/7 guard protection? With my safety at risk, I beeline for an exit. Any exit, with the big red letters beckoning me.
Internally in an emotional turmoil, my heels clicking against the store flooring–I move towards the exit doorway.
However, when I do make it there the door seems impossible to crack.
What are you made of? Titanium?
I push the door with all my might. Over and over, exhausting my lungs... and even my muscles. My heart begins a frantic rhythm.
Until finally it gives way, and light pours in, and so I stumble out. I look back. He’s still on me, gaining speed and momentum.
I don’t know whether to run or walk calmly.
A dark limousine almost makes me paste on the ground and I narrowly miss getting into a fatal accident. My palms hit on the gravel—rough harsh concrete biting against my sensitive spot. I wince.
I slowly look back, after retracting my hand. That was close. Almost too close. Death isn’t something someone like me would wish easily. No I’d never wish that because my father is all I have.
He isn’t there anymore. No signs of his presence lingers. Breathe Blair.
“You careless or what?” A deep, husky voice asks me.
I look at my palm, rubbing it instinctively—the only thing that will calm me down. I almost died. What the hell?
Tears sprung up and I held them back. I can’t cry now. That’s way too pathetic. “You shouldn’t jump in front of a moving car like that, doll,” he adds.
A hand is all he offers me and so I take it. His face. I know I saw it somewhere.
The way he smiles at me, is enough to forget that incident happened. “I didn’t introduce myself... I’m—”
“I know who you are....” I blurt out, a strange sort of feeling between rage and awe mixed together—a potion ready explode. “You’re Nico... Volkov. The world’s most elusive yet narcissistic mafia heir...”
As I said all that he pulled me close making me gasp. Was it need? Lust? Or something my body couldn’t control? He brushes his thump softly over my lips, eyes raking down my body.
“And you’re....?” He asks me. Then grabbing my chin he forces me not to look away. “The only daughter of the most feared Don.... Blair Caruso...”
Even my name sounds like sin on his lips. Why is my heart racing so much? I try and move away from him but his grip is too strong. “Don’t worry... I’ll drop you off at home.... Just come. Let me treat you since it’s my fault for almost killing you.”
I can’t tell whether he means it or not. His face remains neutral—a statue that only talks for its own benefit. “But I need to go home...” I reply.
“Ah ah ah.... Now be nice. I almost... ran you over. It’s my courtesy...” he says—an eerie calm in his tone.
He turned me in his arm but didn’t let go as he guided me into the limo–his hand at the dip of my back. And into the lion's den I go.
"Stop being so tense," he said, taking my hand into his, stroking gently–like I'm a kitten too scared of the big dog.
The limo may have been my saving grace except he kept insisting on taking me to dinner.
