His Wicked Heart

Chapter Two

aurora
(n.) the dawn

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PRESENT

GENEVIEVE

After a moment of following her, I encountered a very narrow area that seemed like a corridor. There was no light here. The club room outside was more comfortable than this place. The slow music faded behind silence as I continued my pathway to an unknown place.

Then we were in front of an enormous door. The woman finally looked behind, a mischievous glint flashed in her eyes as she saw my confused face. "You'd love your journey from here, malyshka."

Without another word, she turned around and pushed the door open. My jaw almost dropped to the floor as I looked at the place behind that colossal door. It was a huge room, triple the size of the club room from before. The room's size, along with its glorious decor, screamed that this place belonged to a wealthy man who didn't know where to keep his money, or more like a drug lord who ruled the heart of Russia.

As we both entered the room, I noticed there were several doors here and there. Only then did I realize this place was only for VIPs. I was led to another room that looked somewhat like the queen's chamber, AKA the head room, located at the end of this huge room, right in the middle.

The woman, after about ten minutes, seemed to realize that she hadn't introduced herself to me. So she turned around, crossing her over her chest.

"I'm Francesca, by the way. You can call me France, and I'm third in command in this place. You're going to meet your boss after I take you to this room," she pointed towards the head room behind her. Then she turned her head to me again. "A piece of advice for you, little girl. When you see your boss, you will not talk unless you're asked something and, of course, address her as gospozha."

Her words led me to two conclusions. One, she wasn't the madam of this place, and next, my to-be boss was a very strict woman.

"Okay," I replied shortly. Then she turned around one last time and pushed the door open. Behind that door, I came to view a rather small room where a little more than a few women sat in a corner and were engaged in gossip. By their posture, I assumed they were prostitutes.

They stopped their activities, sensing the presence of an unknown person, and their curious eyes turned toward me. The women were covered in thick makeup and lavish dresses. The costumes they wore were classy, making each of them appear the gorgeous seductresses they were.

"Kto ona?" one of them asked about who I was, her gaze roaming around my body with quite judgmental eyes before they found mine. "Ona budet odnoy izvaz," Francesca replied in Russian, which meant, she will be one of you.

Their gazes turned even more curious at her words, and then they looked at each other, holding some kind of eye conversation before all of them burst into laughter.

Francesca, thinking I might be concerned that they were laughing at me, tried to assure me, "They went back to their own gossip, malyshka. Ne voluytes'." Don't worry.

I just gave her a nod in understanding before turning my gaze around the room, taking in the glorious decor. I'd rather not tell her that I didn't care whether they went back to their gossip or were laughing at me.

I came here for work, not to care about what others think of me. I would never be the same anyway. Not after this.

A few beats passed before the room suddenly became silent. I stopped roaming my eyes around the room and looked for the reason the noisy room suddenly turning quiet.