THE DON'S DESIRE

       MIA

I swing my hips to the left, making eye contact with him, but he looks away quickly.

“Sexy Mami!” Some drunk fool hollers from the small crowd watching us.

I tear my eyes away from my target and look at him with a wide smile that I’ve had enough time to practice.

“Hi, Papi.” I push myself forward until I’m sitting at the edge of the stage with my legs swinging just above his lap.

The man who has blonde hair and a body that has obviously never seen the four walls of a gym before grins.

“What’s the name?” he asks.

“Tina,” I reply.

I don’t hear the next thing he says, because I spot Nikolai moving towards the other side of the room.

“I’ll be back, Papi, just give me a minute to get a drink from the bar,” I excuse myself and jump down to the ground.

My black hair is held up in a ponytail. I feel the blade in my tights as I look around for him. Nikolai Petrov, the billionaire mogul with blood on his hands- blood of children, too. I barely know him, but with everything I was told he’s done, I can’t help but hate his guts. I use my eyes to search the crowd of people. My breath steadies as I lay eyes on him. He’s not as terribly looking as I’d like him to be, but that doesn’t matter; he’s still going to die tonight.

I watch as he laughs and runs his hand through his thick black hair; his body looks professionally sculpted through his suit, and the gold necklaces that line his neck highlight his tattoos. He’s a bit too cheerful for someone who’s stolen billions and infected thousands of children with cancer, but I guess they never really look like their crimes, do they?

I start walking towards him, angling my blade and watching out for the perfect time. He looks invested in his conversation, and none of his guards are in sight, just like I was told. So, I proceed, keeping an eye on him for any change in body language.

The music is loud, sweaty bodies are rubbing against each other in reckless abandon and I’m so close, as soon as I get within reach, I place my hand on my knife, take it out, and hold it firmly, just as I’m about to strike, he turns around swiftly as if sensing danger, his hands catch my wrist just before the blade comes in contact with his body, his eyes lock on mine. I draw in a sharp breath of surprise, but my brain works fast, I drop the knife to distract him and raise my leg swiftly, but he’s fast to move away, letting me go. The small crowd of people around move away, trying to avoid getting involved.

I steady myself and get my stance right; he’s surrounded now by people I assume are his bodyguards. Of course, a dirty asshole like him would surround himself with minions who can clean up his messes. He takes a gun from one of his men, and my breath catches in my throat. He was supposed to only have two guards here, and I was supposed to do a quick in and out, but of course, life is always throwing curveballs at me. There’s a gun in my holster, but I would be making a huge mistake by moving right now.

Before I can think of my next move, I’m hit over the head with something I can only assume is a gun and plunged into darkness.

Fuck!

_

I open my eyes slowly, expecting the headache that follows, but not the environment I wake up in. My hands are hanging above my head in chains, the room is dimly lit, there are stone walls and a cold, damp floor that I can feel with just my toes. Pain resonates from my head and torso. I look down and discover that I’m naked- completely bare. The black wig I had used to cover my white hair is now gone, and my hair is plastered to my sweaty skin.

What the actual fuck did he do to me?

I look around, and the air is thick with the scent of mould and decay. Various torture tools are lined up throughout the room, including iron maidens, racks, and thumbscrews. The chains that are holding my hands up run down from the ceiling, and there’s a large wooden cross standing at the other end of the room. I barely have enough time to regain full composure before the metal door that I hadn’t previously registered comes swinging open, and I want to cover my body, but I quite literally can’t, so I just stay still and wait for him to come in.

A woman comes in first, with brown straight hair with nice tanned skin, she’s dressed in a blank jumpsuit that clings to her every curve and a bulletproof vest. He comes in behind her, wearing a white shirt that’s folded up to his elbows and black pants. His hair is annoyingly perfect, and he has a cigarette placed between his lips.

“You’re up early,” he says with a smirk, and I look away, feeling exposed- but it’s not the first time a man has stared at my naked body, so I guess I’ll live. His Russian accent is strong but not like some of the natives I’ve encountered.

He pulls out a chair and sits, eyeing me with a darkness in his eyes that doesn’t strike me as anger at all.

He clears his throat before speaking again.

“Why?” he asks simply before he chuckles and taps his index finger on the side of his head.

“You see, I don’t think you even know that. I have never seen your face before, and I’m not one to forget a face- ever. I’ve got my men looking into you, and you don’t match with anyone who would be dumb enough to come at me. So, my gut tells me that you’re an assassin. Now I think the better question would be, who sent you?”

I scoff, angling my head so I can stare him straight in his eyes. They’re grey and cold, but mesmerising in some twisted way,

“Just get on with whatever you’re going to do to me, I really don’t care,” I reply weakly, but I mean every word.

“A loyalist. I respect that.”

He gets to his feet and sighs, pushing the chair back and gives me one last look before walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask, a bit confused.

“Oh, darling, I don’t hit women”, he smirks before disappearing through the metal door.