Page 15 of Forced Bratva Hostage

His tall, masculine physique and athletic build commanded attention, exuding confidence, power, wealth, and strength. His chiseled face, which seemed carved from granite, was framed by his slightly tousled, dirty blond hair.

Afanasy's rugged charm and quick wit were shocking and quite surprising, considering his position in the mafia. I'd expected him to be more hardened, with a signature stern expression, but he defied my expectations.

However, despite his charisma and subtle humor, I knew he was a monster beneath the surface. He seemed dedicated to the Bratva cause, and he'd do despicable things to anyone who stood in his way.

As charming and alluring as his piercing green eyes were, they hid in their depths shadows of the darkness.

Those magnetic eyes masked the tales of the men he'd sent beyond the graves, their ghosts lingering deep behind the mask.

His perfect blend of ice and fire made him more terrifying than my darkest suspicion. The man would be difficult to read. It'd be almost impossible to predict his next move, and that made him dangerous.

Everything about Afanasy screamed trouble. He was bad news, and I feared for my dad's safety now that he'd pissed him off.

Dad had Afanasy's full attention, and that was terrible. If he knew the plans he had in store for him, he'd hustle the money, and fast.

But how? Dad didn't have that amount.

Hunger pangs struck, and my stomach growled, my hands instinctively flying over it. I jerked my head at the wall clock. It was time for my daily ration.

Since my arrival, I'd limited myself to eating once a day, and somehow, the maids had picked up on my feeding timetable.

They had deduced that I would always come downstairs at 3:00 in the afternoon to look for something to eat. So, they decided to make stuff easy for me.

Recently, each time I descended to the lower floor at this particular time of the day, a meal awaited me at the dining table.

I took a quick glance at my reflection in the mirror—my hollowed-out eyes roaming this thinner version of myself. My collarbones seemed prominent, my jawline subtly sharper, and my cheeks were sunken.

I was losing weight.

Why wouldn’t I? I barely ate, barely slept, and I spent so much time thinking—brooding and crying most nights.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I headed out the door, my stomach growling in protest.

Afanasy was barely around, and as relieving as that was, it still had its downside—being that I was left in the dark about my father's situation.

As I descended the stairs, the house was silent, with no sign of Afanasy or the maids, even though I was certain that the latter were scattered around the mansion.

I headed to the dining table, discreetly savoring the sweet aroma that wafted through the air. Despite my current situation, I couldn't deny the fact that Afanasy's chef was an excellent cook.

Pulling back a chair, I took my seat at the table, uncovering the silver lid of a plate to reveal my meal. Today, it was a cheeseburger and some crispy fries. My stomach growled in anticipation at this mouthwatering sight as I picked up my cutlery.

In silence, I ate, savoring each bite, the amazing flavors exploding on my tongue. Deep down, I appreciated the chef's cooking and wished that I could meet her under different circumstances. I'd rain praises on her for making such deliciousmeals that catapulted me to a realm free from the harshness of my reality.

Once done, I dabbed my mouth with a napkin and headed back upstairs, my fingers gliding along the polished handrail.

From the head of the steps, I could hear a melody that I'd missed before, and as I walked through the empty hallway, it grew louder.

Was I so hungry that I was momentarily deaf to this classical music?

But it wasn't just the music; there was something in the background—a low, throaty humming that vibrated through the notes. This sensual panting, a tantalizing whisper, invaded the melody, sending tremors down my spine.

I paused in my tracks, eyes wildly darting across the hallway to make sure no one was watching me. “Mind your business, girl,” I cautioned myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just head back to your room.”

A cry of rapturous pleasure rose above the music, catching my attention, “Ah, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!”

My eyes widened at the unbridled sound of ecstasy that sent shivers down my spine, drawing me in with its raw intensity.

I traced the honeyed sound to a door slightly ajar, inviting my curiosity. I tried to resist, but the woman's intoxicating moans seemed to draw me in like a moth to a flame.

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