"I don't fear darkness. I am the darkness."
Being the leader of the largest Mafia group in USA, Ruslan Searlus is a man to be petrified of.
Everyone run away from him; wishes to never cross his path. Everyone's terrified of him, everyone but Alfresc...
I gently closed the door behind me, my eyes roaming around the study in admiration.
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And then it fell on the figure sitting in the swivel chair behind the desk. His back was towards me, his broad shoulders draped with a white shirt were only visible.
I cleared my throat and the he swirled the chair around to face me. A paper was in his hand, his eyes focused on it and then he slowly lifted his eyes and his gaze collided with mine. The coldness inside those eyes made me take a step back in fear.
He placed the paper down on the desk, and placing his forearm on the desk, leaned forward, intertwining both his hands.
I took in his sharp, handsome features of his face and I have to admit, he's attractive. Brown hair, deep and velvety brown eyes, a stubble adorning his jaw and the sharp jaw line.
Realising I was still staring at him, I lowered my gaze and stared at the floor instead and nervously fiddled with my fingers.
Oh, how beautiful the floor is.
"Take a seat." I heard his cold, deep voice with a hint of Russian accent and I lifted my head and he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
Gulping, I hesitantly walked closer, with my eyes still lowered. And slowly sat down on the chair.
"I...I...need help." I whispered before he could say anything. "Please."
"You told Geordi they were the Meryd gangsters..." He spoke.
Geordi must be that man. I nodded. "Yes. They are after me."
"And why are they after you?"
I contemplated before telling him what happened last night and how my landlord just threw me out. His face didn't show any emotion, his eyes were cold, his lips pressed in a thin line as he listened to me.
After I finished, he leaned back in his chair. "And your family?"
"I don't...have any." I admitted.
"No one?"
I shook my head. "They all died in a car accident when I was eleven. And I don't have any relatives...I grew up in an orphanage."
"What was the name of the orphanage?" He inquired.
My brows knitted together. "Why do you need the name of my orphanage?"
"Just answer the question." He stated firmly leaving no room for argument.
I told him the name of the orphanage and he hummed in response.
"How old are you?" He proceeded to ask.
"Twenty one." I have this habit of questioning back the same thing when someone asks this type of questions. So before I could comprehend, I spoke. "And you?"
