Page 13 of Bound By Longing

“Business is good. Looking to buy?”

“Looking for information. You wouldn’t know anything about any girls going missing, would you?”

Sergio doesn’t miss a beat. “I deal in guns, Damien. Not girls.”

“I know. But if you did know anything, you would let me know.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand disguised as a pleasantry.

“I take it there’s someone you’re looking for in particular?”

“There’s a woman named Mila. Ring any bells?”

He shakes his head. “No. Never heard of her. What does she look like?”

“Blonde, cute, petite.”

“There’s a lot of blonde, cute, and petite girls in the world, Damien. Sorry. Can’t help you.”

“It was worth a shot.” I take a drag of my cigarette. Not that I care about Mila. I just wanted to know who might have taken her. Her looks drew me in when I first saw her at Mikhail’s house a few months ago.

But she doesn’t mean anything to me, and I’m not going to waste any more time worrying about some girl I’ll probably never see again.

MILA

“Ok, enough,” Vladimir snaps.

I slump against the floor. I’ve been cleaning for the past hour on my hands and knees. I grew up dancing ballet, and that was grueling, but this is something else. My ballet training, while tiring, was fun.

Being Vladmir’s prisoner is not fun at all.

“I’m getting bored. I want to go out.” He takes off my collar. “You’re coming with me.”

“Coming with you where?”

Vladimir only smiles, sending shivers over my entire body.

Without a word, he throws my normal clothes at me. “Get dressed.”

I quickly change into my clothes and gently set the maid’s uniform on the ground, lest Vladimir get angry with me.

Afterward, he makes me leave the house and get in the car. I think about running, but I know he could easily shoot me if he wanted to, so I play along. I need to find the right opportunity to escape.

I need to think like my sisters would.

After driving for a few minutes, Vladimir stops the car outside a nightclub. A long line leads from the front door around the side of the building.

“Let’s go,” he says, nudging me out of the car.

“A club?” I ask. “Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he snaps before dragging me behind him.

Bypassing the line, he heads straight for the bouncer. “Vladimir Andreeva.”

The bouncer huffs. “Never heard of you.” His eyes settle on me. “But the girl can go inside.”

Vladimir tightens his hand on my arm. “She’s not going in without me. Would this make you change your mind?” He hands over a lot of money. They're all Russian money, and I don’t even know how much it is, but the bouncer looks pleased and waves Vladimir in.

Once inside the club, I’m overwhelmed by the loud music and hundreds of people moving about the space. I could ask any one of these people for help. What’s Vladimir doing?

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