𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

64

~ phoenix ~

"Ilya!" I complained, trying to free my sore wrist. "Let me go already!"

Like he'd been for the entire car ride, he remained excruciatingly silent. Even now, his face was cool and expressionless. I had no idea what the bastard was thinking.

When we entered the compound, I felt his grip loosen just a fraction.

But it was all I needed. With one strong tug, I was free and I didn't waste a second in running to the closing elevator. Ignoring the furious snarl behind me, I slipped past the doors just as they were about to close. The men in black inside stared at me strangely. Tossing them my most innocent smile, I waited patiently for the elevator to reach the basement.

Stupidly, I had no plan. Other than to run into Rina's room and lock myself in.

When finally we did reach -1, I glanced around before leaving. In my peripheral vision, I saw a familiar figure hurtling down the stairs. Squealing with both anticipation and fear, I bolted to the messy room. My fingers fumbled with the lock. Before he broke the door down, I shoved the large sofa in front of it.

Why was I even running at this point? I couldn't even say. I knew Ilya would do nothing more than growl his threats at me and potentially even drag me to our room.

Furrowing my brows, I pondered on how he got there in the first place. Wasn't he supposed to look after Tori?

Moments later, an angry pounding sounded at the door. Grinning breathlessly, I heard my name being called.

"No!" I shouted back, obstinately.

"NOW!" he yelled.

Sighing, I sat on the sofa with a magazine, ogling the pretty women because I couldn't read the words.

Unexpectedly, there was silence. I climbed to the top of the seat, pressing my ear to the door.

"Birdie, you evil hoe! You locked me out of my own- no, not my shopping, Ilya! Please!"

I cackled quietly, hearing the sudden pain in Rina's voice. Intently, I listened to their harsh bickering. Unfortunately, it was not in a language I understood.

Seconds later, she was back at the door. "Birdie," she whined, "let me in! He's taking my stuff!"

Smirking, I fired back, "You care about your clothes more than my wellbeing?"

"Yes! Now, open the door!"

Silently contemplating my options, I hummed. After a long minute, I sighed.

Oh well, the angry sex better be good.

Heaving, I moved the sofa back to its original position. Then, reluctantly, I unlocked the door. Inching it open, I found only Katarina standing outside, hands on hips.

"He's gone," she said, with a humph.

I opened the door wider, a hopeful smile on my face. "Really?"

An evil smirk slipped onto her lips. "No."

Before she could finish the syllable, harsh hands wrapped around my waist, almost painfully, lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder. Instinctively, I began to struggle.

Slap!

Blood rushing to my face for more reasons than one, I could only hang limply. I was humiliated to see several feet still around us as we passed.

An irritate scowl was plastered onto my expression.

To my relief, the journey of shame ended as we passed the threshold of the penthouse.