AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Vasilisa
Iwalk into the dimly lit club, my heart pounding with anticipation. The bass thumps through my body as I make my way to the dance floor. The lights flicker in hues of purple and blue, illuminating the sea of bodies writhing to the music. The energy pulsates around me, and I know I’m exactly where I need to be. I invited my two best girlfriends, Zara and Abbey, out to join me, but they both had other plans.
I close my eyes, letting the music wash over me. I sway to the beat, my hips moving in slow, sensual circles. The rhythm courses through me, and I begin to let go of all inhibitions. I become lost in the music, lost in the moment, and lost in myself. For this small moment in time, I’m free … just like the ride on my motorcycle yesterday.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes. I see people around me, watching me, but I don't care. I begin to dance with more intention, moving my body in ways that make me feel powerful and sexy. Viktor couldn’t be more wrong about me being boring. As the tempo increases, I feel that surge of adrenaline that I’ve been chasing since I arrived. I take a step back and begin to slowly roll my hips, feeling the music move through me. I let my hands travel down my body, over my hips and thighs, and back up to my waist. I can feel eyes on me, but I don't shy away. Instead, I embrace the attention, using it to fuel my movements. I turn around and let my back arch, revealing the curve of my spine. Lifting my arms, I let my fingers trace over my body, teasing and enticing the crowd. My eyes meet those of a dark-haired man, and I recognize the hunger in his gaze. I smile and continue to move, feeling in complete control.
The music shifts, and I feel a surge of energy. I jump and spin, my hair whipping around me. My heart races, my breath coming in short bursts. As the night wears on, I continue to dance, my movements growing more and more seductive. I feel the eyes of the crowd on me, but I’m no longer dancing for them. I’m dancing for myself, for the woman inside me who wants to be seen as more than just someone to barter and trade for power.
As the music fades and the lights come up, a sense of reality washes over me. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be trading these carefree days for duty and responsibility.
I make my way off the dance floor, my body still humming with the energy of the night. I wish I had ridden my motorcycle here, but instead, I had our driver drop me off at Zara’s house. I took an Uber here, but now that everyone is leaving the club, it will be a while before I can get one if I stand out front. There is already a surge in demand, and I don’t want to call for our driver. The whole point of being dropped off at Zara’s is to enjoy a night out without being under my father’s watchful eye. If I can get some distance from the club, maybe more cars will be available.
After I step out into the cool night air, I decide to walk a few blocks east before trying to call for an Uber. As I make my way down the street, I notice a man walking a few paces behind me. I glance over my shoulder, but he seems to be lost in thought, his eyes focused on the ground. I shrug it off and continue walking, but as I turn down a side street, I realize he continues to follow me. A sense of unease creeps up my spine, and I begin to walk faster. But no matter how quickly I move, the man remains a few paces behind me. I stop and turn around, my heart pounding in my chest. The man stops too, his eyes meeting mine. I feel a surge of fear, unsure of what he wants or why he’s following me.
I try to compose myself, to appear calm and collected. “Can I help you?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly.
The man doesn't respond. Instead, he continues to stare at me, his eyes dark and unyielding. I take a step back, unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, the man lunges forward, his arms outstretched. I scream and begin to run, my heart pounding in my chest. I can hear his footsteps behind me, the sound growing louder with each passing moment. My heels slow me down, but I can’t stop to take them off. I dash down the deserted street, my eyes scanning for any signs of help. But no one is around to hear my cries for help. I can feel the man closing in on me, his breath hot on the back of my neck at one point. I turn a corner and dart into an alleyway, hoping to lose him in the maze of buildings. But as I turn around, I see the man walking toward me, his eyes fixed on mine. A sense of panic rises in my chest, but I know I can't let fear take over. I take a deep breath and stand my ground, my eyes locked on his.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice stern.
The man smiles with a sinister glint in his eye. “I want you,” he says, his voice low and menacing.
I take a step back, unsure of how to respond. “I don't know you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. It’s a stupid response, but I’m trying to buy time to figure out how to get myself out of this mess.
The man takes another step forward, his hand reaching out to grab me. I scream and try to run again, but he grabs me by the arm, his tight grip unrelenting. I struggle and fight, but the man is too strong. He drags me farther into the alleyway, his intentions clear as he pulls at the hem of my dress. I lower to the ground, trying to escape his grasp. I can feel my face redden and my heart pounding in my chest, but I refuse to cry.
But then, out of nowhere, I hear a voice. “Hey!” someone shouts. “Let her the fuck go!”
I recognize that voice. “Nothing to see here, pal. Just keep it moving. Mind your fucking …”
The man who has a hold of me doesn’t get to finish that statement. He takes a punch to the face so hard that he slumps over. That’s it. No fight. The guy who just laid him out looks pissed. It’s fucking Kai. What is he doing here and how did he find me? He grabs me by the arm and pulls me to my feet.
“Are you stalking me now?” I ask incredulously, attempting to pull my arm away.
“Let’s go, now!” he growls. “I don’t have time for your ungrateful bullshite. I should have let that guy rape your arse before I intervened.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. Ugh, I knew better than to be blinded by his handsomeness. He’s the devil incarnate in a beautiful contradicting package. “If you’re going to talk shit about it, then you should have just let him try. I have until ten tomorrow morning before I have to go anywhere with you.”
“That timeline just fucking moved up, princess, since you have no sense of self-preservation. I need to protect my investment.”
“I’m not an investment, jackass. I’m a person.”
He growls louder this time before reaching down and throwing me over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Margo.” My body stiffens. “Yes, I know exactly who you are, and I’m going to enjoy showing you just how much of a pussy I really am.”
He all but throws me in the passenger seat of a Bugatti and buckles me in. “Stay,” he says, daring me to run with a lethal stare. “If you so much as unbuckle that goddamn seat belt, I will lock you in the trunk.”
I don’t have the energy to fight with this jerk. Not now anyway. He knows who I am, and I need to think. I can’t let him succeed in taking me wherever he’s taking me, but I also know it will be harder to escape from that small-ass trunk. Of course I recognized him the moment I saw him at brunch today, but I was holding on to hope that the recognition wasn’t reciprocated. Why didn’t he call me out then? I have real concerns on what he plans to do to me. I tried to kill the woman I suspect he really wants. So why marry me? My mind races with so many questions—questions that distract me from what almost happened if he hadn’t been there to intervene.
I can feel the tension in the car as we drive to his intended destination. I know he's upset for having to save me, especially knowing now that he must hate me. I’m thankful he was there to stop that guy, but my embarrassment has made that hard to admit. I’m not ungrateful.
As we drive in silence, I glance over at him. His jaw is clenched, and I can see the muscle in his cheek twitching. He's beyond angry, and I know I should say something to deescalate things, but I just can't bring myself to do it.
“What the fuck was that at the club?” he finally asks, his voice tight. “Dancing like a slut, begging for attention. Then you choose to walk alone into some dark alley. What did you think would happen?”
I shrug, not looking at him. So he was stalking me. “I don't know,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I like to dance, and I was enjoying my last night as a free woman.”
He scoffs, clearly not satisfied with my answer. “That was not dancing,” he accuses. “That was a show to get attention.The wrong attention. You’re betrothed to me, and you were out acting like a whore. This is the sabotaging shite your father spoke of—how you got out of having to get married before now. No respectable heir would want you with that type of behavior. Well, unfortunately for you, I’m not the average heir. You want to be a slut …? Don’t do it half arse. My plans for you mean more to me than whatever intentions you have to ruin this.”
