Chapter 3
Morning arrives, and I take in the room around me. Everything that happened last night wasn’t a dream. An arrogant man really did threaten my father’s life and force me to become his surrogate. I process the information again and walk to a small dresser in the right corner. I find some clothes and pick one to wear. I practically feel kidnapped, unable to even bring my own belongings.
Once ready, I leave the room and walk through the mansion’s hallways. The gray walls are adorned with ornate frames, giving the space a Parisian atmosphere. The place doesn’t seem very populated; the silence is overwhelming. I descend the stairs and encounter Luara, Samuel’s wife.
"Finally, the little Cinderella is awake. You’re not at a vacation resort. Maria will serve your breakfast. I’ve put together a menu—stick to it." Before I can respond, the woman storms off, stomping loudly and muttering under her breath.
"Good morning, Tatyana. Please, follow me!" Maria smiles and leads me to the house’s kitchen.
The kitchen is spacious, with custom-made wooden cabinets. In the left corner, there’s a table with a prepared plate.
"Enjoy your meal! After breakfast, feel free to explore the mansion, but stay away from the basements. That area is strictly for the Colts."
"Alright, thank you, Maria." The housekeeper sets a cup of tea next to the plate before leaving.
I savor the grénki and then the tea. After the meal, I decide to explore the mansion. I walk through the hallways and notice that most of the spaces feature cold tones. I stop in front of a slightly ajar door, and from the small opening, a cloud of smoke escapes, spreading into the air.
I place my hand on the golden doorknob and discreetly check the room. It's a massive office, and I see Samuel sprawled on a brown Chesterfield leather sofa. Between his fingers, he holds a Gurkha Royal cigar with its distinctive cognac aroma. I glance at the clock on the main wall—it’s only 8 a.m. The man has his eyes closed, slowly puffing on the cigar, dressed in an elegant black suit. His voice interrupts my distraction, as I had been admiring his strong, muscular frame.
"Whatever your question is, the answer is no. You can leave." His words confuse me, but it’s clear he doesn’t want me here. However, my inclination to challenge him leads me to sit on the sofa near him.
"I don’t have any questions. I’m just exploring the mansion."
The man opens his eyes and examines me from head to toe.
"How old are you? Where are you from?" Samuel asks in a curt tone.
"I’m 27. I was born in Sofia, Bulgaria. My mother is Bulgarian, and my father is Russian. We moved to Moscow when I was still a child." He says nothing, merely studying me. "And you, Samuel Colt? Tell me about yourself." The arrogant man seems to lose his composure, shifting uncomfortably. Perhaps no one has ever asked him that before—I must be the only one here who doesn’t know who he is or what he does.
After hesitating for a few seconds, he gives in and reveals some critical points.
"I have nothing to say. I’m Russian, 37 years old, and I’m the best at what I do. End of story."
I stand up and adjust my clothes while he looks surprised. From yesterday onwards, noticing his authority and arrogance, my stubborn nature has surfaced as a defense mechanism. I hate having my life controlled. I’ve always been independent and determined, and I despise being contradicted or showing fear. These traits in my personality likely mirror the man beside me. I sense he uses arrogance to hide his vulnerabilities, but unlike him, I’m not rude—he clearly enjoys being that way.
"On second thought, I really don’t care who you are. I only asked out of politeness." With firm steps, I head toward the door, hearing him clear his throat in irritation.
I leave the room and make my way to a large library connected to an enormous, luxurious hall. I take the opportunity to read, spending the entire afternoon immersed in a romance novel. I’ve never been particularly sentimental and have always struggled to identify my feelings. They tend to get tangled, especially in moments of stress or anxiety when my hypersexuality spirals out of control.
My first week at the Colt mansion was monotonous. Most of the day, I stayed in the library, and whenever I crossed paths with Samuel, we exchanged intense glances without saying a word. Occasionally, I caught him observing my mannerisms, though he pretended not to be curious. Luara treated me coldly, and I rarely saw anyone else in the house. The place was always silent and depressing.
When a new day begins, I choose one of the outfits Maria left in the room, fix my hair, and wander through the corridors. I descend the staircase and find Samuel leaning against the wall, pulling a small tobacco box from his left pocket. He takes a cigarette from the pack, looking directly at me as he places it between his lips. He has shown himself to be a man of few words—cold and detached. Yet, I believe he’s internally at war, always deep in thought. The arrogant man takes a lighter, strikes it to reveal a small orange flame, and lights his cigarette, inhaling slowly. His gaze is challenging, as if he’s expecting an attack from me.
"Good morning," I say calmly and serenely.
The arrogant man doesn’t respond, exhaling the smoke slowly as his eyes scan my body. We silently stare at each other as I walk toward the house’s exit. My body trembles, and my thoughts torment me, reflecting my growing sexual frustration. Many times, I feel the fluctuation of my sexual impulses stimulating my body. In the past, I had excessive behaviors that left my emotions chaotic. I underwent treatment a few months ago, but whenever I’m in a provocative situation, this obsession resurfaces within me. I’m always anxious, and these past few days, being around Samuel, his seductive demeanor has triggered these suppressed impulses. Sometimes, anxiety and nervousness are the main triggers, but one thing puzzles me—I feel genuinely attracted to him. It’s different from when I simply want to satisfy a lack of intimacy.
"Damn it, what am I doing in this place? I just want my life back," I think.
A sad expression takes over my face, and I miss Adam—his touch on my skin. I walk to the garden. The property is enormous and isolated from the city, but in the distance, I can see the buildings and the commotion. I take out my phone and call my father. I hadn’t called him before to avoid worrying him, but now it’s time to explain.
"Hi, Dad, how are you?" I ask sweetly, trying to mask my sadness.
"Hi, my daughter! It’s so good to hear your voice this early. I’m fine, working today. I have a few houses to evaluate." My dad is a real estate agent and earns well, but he spends everything on gambling. Over the years of his addiction, we lost everything.
"Dad, you probably won’t see me much in the coming months."
"What’s going on, Taty? Are you okay?"
"Yes, I’m fine! The thing is, Samuel Colt made me an offer I couldn’t refuse."
Olavo falls silent, and when he speaks again, his tone is cold and panicked.
"What? Daughter, that man is dangerous! He’s a mafioso and runs the Bratva—the Russian Mafia. They deal in extortion, money laundering, and contract killings. I want you to leave there now!" My father’s voice is desperate and nervous.
"Dad, unfortunately, I can’t. He said he would kill you. But if I have a child and leave it here, he’ll forgive your debt," I reply confidently, hoping he’ll understand my choice to help him.
"Daughter, he’s married to his own cousin. Their family enforces those marriages to prevent betrayal."
This revelation leaves me completely stunned. I bring my hand to my lips, which part in shock, and reply, horrified, "What? What a crazy family!"
"Exactly. I want you to leave there right now. If I have to die so you don’t do anything for him, I’m willing to accept that." Olavo’s voice is filled with resolve, showing he’s ready to do anything to protect me.
"Dad, are you crazy? Don’t say that. You’re all I have. I can’t lose you!"
My mother died in a terrible car accident five years ago. Since then, it’s just been my father and me. I miss her so much, and imagining losing him too breaks my heart. When they moved to Russia, we became distant from all our relatives, and over the years, we lost contact entirely.
"Daughter, I made bad choices, and it’s not fair for you to pay for them." My father’s voice trembles, revealing his distress.
"Dad, I’ll do this. I’ve already been here for a week. I won’t let them kill you, and even if you offer yourself as a sacrifice to protect me, I can’t accept that. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. I love you!"
"I love you too, daughter. If anything goes wrong, come home, and if they want to kill me, so be it!" Just imagining that possibility weakens my legs.
"Alright, Dad, but you know I’d do anything to protect you, right?"
"I would too, daughter—even if it means dying."