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Anastasia Lenkov wants to live a normal life as a nurse after escaping her old, brutal life. But her past keeps catching up with her. She is on the run from the Russian mafia, because her father, the boss, will n...
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"Where is Antonio?" After we got into the black cars and drove back to the house, Thomas and I walked down the hallway which was decorated with all kinds of paintings.
Wordlessly, after Konstantin's corpse fell to the ground, Antonio got into one of the black cars, whereupon I followed him. The ride was short, but felt interminably long because of the suffocating silence.
His eyes were narrowed the whole time and his chest rose and fell furiously as he breathed. He seemed to be thinking hard about something and when we arrived he disappeared, meanwhile Thomas led me to my bedroom.
"I don't know, Miss Lenkov. I've been instructed to escort you safely to your room and that's exactly what I'm going to do." He kept walking a step ahead of me as he strode through the corridors.
An audible exhale from me followed his statement, "All right."
A little while later we arrived at the ornate huge door that led to the bedroom. Never before had I noticed that this room, too, was positioned rather alone.
In this case, it wasn't alone in a complete wing, but the floor it was on was also empty except for a few other rooms.
After Thomas did his usual walkthrough around the room and muttered his, "There's no threat in the room, Miss Lenkov." he came to face me and stopped in front of me at the doorstep.
He leaned down to me, "I'm sure Mister Ramirez will be right back. Maybe he's just cleaning his gun, because you know," He cleared his throat and a slight grin replaced his stern expression, "it was stuck in someone's throat, after all."
Again I noticed his accent, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what language it was from. He's interesting after all.
I hummed before stepping past him into the bedroom, "Have a good evening, Tommy. Good night."
The bodyguard nodded politely, "I'm going to go now. Good night." He bowed his head down slightly and then left my room and walked down the hall to the stairs until he was out of my visual range.
I sighed and stepped into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind me. My feet carried me straight to the bathroom and I stopped in front of the sink.
My gaze flicked to the mirror hanging above it and my face scrunched up. The brown hair of the wig was wet from the rain I was put through.
My hands reached up and a few minutes later the wig was lying on the edge of the sink. Again I let my gaze slide to the mirror and I could once again spot my black curls.
Next, I removed the blue contact lenses and placed them in the small box the girls had left from the makeover.
Fine splashes of blood covered my face and I frowned as I remembered how Konstantin's head exploded when I shot him right between his eyes.
My arm stretched out to the wipes and I began to remove the makeup, including what hid the mafia tattoo on my back. A while later I looked contentedly into my reflection.
