A Treacherous King- Dark Mafia Romance

two

Maeve

My head feels like it's made of brick, my neck so stiff I can't turn it. I try to force my eyes open, but they feel like they have sandbags over them. And my mouth. God it is so fucking dry. It feels like I have been gulping down dry desert air for days.

I try to move anything, my arm, my leg, my fucking fingers. Nothing budges. I note that I am not lying on a hard surface, rather a very soft one. I am also covered up with sheets. I know that it isn't my bed though. I can tell the difference. These sheets are silk, smooth and cool. Mine are just cotton.

I manage to crack one of my eyes open. I see nothing but a white ceiling. It must be daylight, because sunlight spills in through wherever the hell I am.

I force both eyes open and blink several times, gathering my bearings. Everything seems so fuzzy. Like I have all the pieces, but they're not fitting together properly.

The first piece, which I am pretty certain is first because it seems to be the only normal piece I have, is me going to a bar. I know that I was supposed to be meeting someone at the bar, but that person didn't show. Instead, a tall, dark and mysterious man showed up in his place.

Flashes of me sitting at the bar talking to the man occur to me but then...then there is nothing. Save for the faintest scent of expensive cologne and fresh soap. Was I drugged? Oh god did he do something to me?

I squeeze my eyes shut and count to three. One...two...three. I force myself to sit up in one swift motion. It hurts like hell but I manage to stay upright, my head kind of lolling. My heart is beating rapidly and the covers are suddenly too stifling.

"Oh my god. You are awake." A feminine voice sounds from somewhere. I start trying to kick the covers off my legs, but the woman rushes over to me.

"Here let me help you sit up." She says. Her accent jolts me. Suddenly more memories are flashing before me. The man I met at the bar, no I didn't meet him, he showed up. He bought me drinks and his voice. He had an accent much like the woman's. Russian.

"Let me fix these pillows for you." The woman fluffs up some pillows and helps me sit up.

I can see the whole room now. It's a bedroom. The room seems to be accented in shades of green. The walls are painted an off white color. Framed artwork of rolling green hills and canyons are hanging from the walls. A high back green chair sits by a double paned window, green curtains hang from it. The woman is throwing the soft green duvet off my legs, along with the green silk sheets.

"You are sweating." I finally take in the woman who is adamantly fussing over me. She's about my height, with long brown hair. Her bangs are cut short, framing her forehead and face which is pale. Her cheeks are rosy, her full lips painted a deep red color.

She must have brought a tray when she came in. A tea pot along with tea cups adorn it. She busies herself with making me something. I don't even care what it is, I am so parched. She hands me a steaming cup of tea.

"Here, this will help with your paralysis." She says. Did she just say paralysis?

"What is it?" My voice is hoarse, like I've been screaming at the top of my lungs for hours.

"My speciality." She says, nudging my legs over so she can sit down on the bed. "I promise it's safe. I would never poison tea." She smiles, a row of straight white teeth shining back at me.

I take a tentative sip. The liquid is warm but not hot. The liquid slides down my throat, coating it. It doesn't taste good but not bad and it's helping with my dry throat so I continue to drink it.

"Who are you?" I ask. I have lots of questions to ask, I suppose I should start off simple.

"My name is Nadia." She says.