Chapter 3 The Unruly Encounter With A Stranger
Ayanna
“Mr Vescari,” she choked out.
“Please let me go.”
“I understand what you’re doing. I have heard all about you and how you play hard to get,” he grated out in a tone that sounded like sandpaper to her ears.
“You pretend to be so innocent, yet I’ve caught on to your games.”
She shook her head, her expression wide-eyed and horrified.
“What? That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You’re so beautiful. So untouched. Unlike most of the others. What will it take for me to have you?” He caressed her wrist with his thumb and index fingers.
“Nothing! Get away from me!”
A panicked cry wavered out of her as he shoved her back and easily restrained her arms on either side of the wall.
She was flattened into the wall to the point she couldn't move if she struggled.
The corners of his mouth tipped higher, showing off teeth stained yellow from time, and that made her stomach churn.
“I’ll have you now,” he mumbled, bowing his head. His lips trailed over the length of her throat.
“No one else has to know.”
He kissed his way up toward her jaw and mouth. Ayanna was in too much shock to react when the assault suddenly stops.
Mr Vescari was wrenched off her and thrown to the ground. She was unable to move from the sheer shock at what was happening in front of her.
Another man was here. He was much larger, bulging with muscles under an all-black suit. Yet he moved with the speed of someone a third his size. He snatched Mr Vescari up off the ground by the collar of his dinner jacket and smashed a huge fist into his face.
It was one of many to come.
I shrank against the wall whimpering in fear as the mysterious mountain-sized man beat Mr Vescari to a pulp.
He pounded his fists and cracked his elbow. He slammed his head through the wall a few feet away from me. Streaks of blood marred the once pristine atrium by the time he was done.
Mr Vescari dropped to the floor unconscious, almost lifeless. He didn't even made a sound to detect if he was still alive. It was only the sight of his chest moving slowly that convinced her that he was still alive.
Horror had paralyzed her from head to toe and made it impossible to do anything but gape at the aftermath.
The man rounded on me, heaving ragged breaths, with his fists bloodied and tattooed.
Suddenly, she felt Mr Vescari's weren’t the only set of eyes she had felt on her. This man had been watching her too.
A man she had never seen in her life. A man that had deep-set eyes that looked wolfish and predatory in nature and dark glossy hair that fell over his face.
His skin looked like it had been naturally tanned from hours in the sun, and tattoos that came up to his neck and covered what little of his large hands she could see.
He was the kind of man you took notice of the instant he walked into a room: tall, striking, and with a muscled body even his suit couldn't hide.
His mere presence rendered her speechless and made nerves flutter in her stomach.
She blinked and then cautiously peeled herself off the wall.
He took a step to block her exit. He peered down at her like he knew her, and as if he hadn't just beaten a man half to death right in front of her.
A cold shiver crawled up her spine.
“Hello, ballerina,” he said in a husky voice that bore a hint of an Italian accent.
“I’ve been dreaming of you.”
Ayanna's eyes widened in shock.
Who was this man and what did he want from her?
