All the bad things {18+}

New recruit |04

I stretch out on the sofa, there was nothing to do. I look at the pile of documents I was made to review by mr please-kiss-my-ass.

I wasn't too quick to understand it but I wasn't slow either, he was trying to keep me in the loop all while keeping me out of it.
I breezed through them in about three days.

'I'm hungry.' I snap the book I'm reading shut before throwing my legs over the sofa.

I wear my slippers and make for the door. There's a mirror right by the side and i look at myself in it after i catch my reflection.
Brown hoodie that i had pulled the string around until left only a portion of my face visible, glasses with a transparent frame and brown slippers in the shape of a cow.

I looked like a sexy mess. 'Should I really go out like this?" I ask myself.
"They can fuck themselves, i don't care." I go to the elevator. "No one's around anyway."

I reach the bottom floor and jog straight to the kitchen.
I help myself to some ingredients in the fridge and make the least sexiest sandwich in existence.
"I'm sure you have a great personality." I tell the poor sandwich.

Taking a bite out of it I decide that one isn't enough. "You do have a great personality."
I begin to make more. I turn to my first sandwich to realise that it's gone, only it's crust left.

"I could've sworn i-Eeeeeek!!" I scream at the devil suddenly standing in front of me.
"Chím oo." I hold my chest, clutching onto the fabric of my clothing.

Oh fuck! My clothing. I stand like a deer caught in headlights.
"You're not very observant and that isn't the best outfit choice for a woman surrounded by men." He chastises. "If it were to be anyone else they would've-."

"Grandpa, please go take a seat." I take my remaining sandwiches.
"The sandwich is good, but it could use a lift, cosmetically." He says washing his hands.

"You need a personality lift, everything about you is just inches away from the devil." I pause on my way out. "And who said it was okay to eat my stuff? Now I'm one sandwich short." I complain to the man who just itches at his ear.

"I'm sure i heard a dog bark and i don't have any." He snickers. I was just going to walk away but i throw an empty glass plate at him. He misses it by swishing his head to the left. It hits the wall and shatters on impact.

"You're really spoiled, mr Ebuka really failed you as a father." He says nonchalantly, looking at the mess.

"It's not my fault my dad loved me and yours sent you on various suicide missions." I see i hit a nerve, he doesn't act like it but i know i did. "Maybe that's why your mom died early, guessing she couldn't stand to see what monster you'd become."

He grows silent.
"Did i hit a nerve?" I half pout at him. "Yeah, that was the point."

I walk away and begin running once I hear his footsteps behind me.
"Shit shit shit shit." I run trying to balance my sandwiches and orange juice.

"Get back here!"
"Go fuck yourself and go to hell."
"Stop cussing."
"You'll have to beat that one out of me."

The guards look at us like were in some comedic show but Roman pulls out a gun and then I know it's no longer funny. He shoots it, the bullet grazing my ear.

"That was a warning, next time it'll be real."
I stop in my tracks, the bullet ricocheted off the wall, right in between my feet. One inch closer and I'd have a bullet in my foot.

"Never mention anything about my mother." He threatens.
"Then treat my father's name with respect."
I walk away no longer hungry but i take the food anyway.

"I'll warn you again," I feel him glaring daggers at me. "Stop cussing every chance you get, it's not womanly."
I stand facing him as the elevator closes.
"You can kiss my ass dipshit."

I see his jaw clench from the space between the elevator's doors.
I get up to my room, sitting on the bed I apologise to the lady whose name i just insulted.
"Lady i swear, i am so sorry but like it or not your son is an absolute asshole."

I feel bored, scrolling on your phone after a while would only do so much.
I decide to sleep, despite it being 5 o'clock in the evening.

......................

I wake up to the rude pounding on my door. I look at my phone that told that it was around 12am. I drink some mint water to help with bad breath before i move to the door.

"Who is it?" I question half asleep.
"....." I get no reply from the other end.
Shrugging i go back to bed only for another series of knocks to be the cause i wake.

"Okay! Man what the hell?" I stomp over to the door, yanking it open.
I see a guy, a good looking one at that but he's clad in tactical gear letting me know that he's one of Lomonosov's men.

"Sorry for the intrusion miss but i was asked to relay this to you immediately." He says politely, all the grumpiness i had piled up squanders.
"Mr Lomonosov has something to deal with, he left an hour ago."
"Okay, i don't care. Why am I being told?

"I was recently hired to be your personal bodyguard."
This isn't the first time I've had a bodyguard, it didn't occur to me as anything strange but i still asked.

"Okay, why? We're surrounded by trained personnel."

"I'm not one mr Lomonosov's men. I was hired by mr Gusev to attend to your every need, personally." He states.

Every need huh?

"So, what are you expected to do?" I ask inviting him in.
"Any thing you ask of me apparently but not if it involves putting mr Lomonosov's life at risk."
"What do you think I'll ask of you?" I question looking out the balcony.

"I don't know but I'm expected to follow you everywhere." He states firmly.
"Even there?" I say nonchalantly pointing at my bed.

"I-i guess, i don't know, aren't you a married woman?"
"Not necessarily."
"Okay, i think so." He adjusts himself. "I guess it's what's expected of me."

"What's your name?" I question, turning to face him.
"I'm Mikhail."

Ahhh, the forbidden name.
......................

I really doubt Mikhail had an ounce of sleep last night. I left him standing at my door and when i woke up he was pretty much there,
Standing, completely unmoved.

I stab my fork into my fruit salad, i had to take care of my health and not let myself go while I waited on mr Lomonosov, i had also gotten in a good workout this morning.
I entered this marriage hot, i would leave even hotter.

I flip through the magazine, on the third page i spot a bag in the advertising corner.

"Mikhail." I call out, my eyes never leaving the page.
"Yes miss?"
"Have you eaten yet?"
"No miss."

"Why? It's almost eleven."
"You haven't given me permission."
"Well, come eat. You and i have to take a little trip to town today."

I tell mr Vladimir to put food out for him.
He seems nervous and barely moves.
"How old are you?" I ask.

"Twenty eight."
"Oh... you're older than i am."
"How old are you ma'am?"
"Ma'am? I'm not old, miss is just fine."
"Okay miss."

He was adorable like a puppy. Despite how manly he looked, there was a softness to him.

"I'm 20." I reply. I see his eyebrows go up in shock.
"Aren't you a bit young?" He questions innocently.

From what i heard around mr Lomonosov was 30.
"Hmm.." i had no comment, i was just trying to make the best out of all this.
"I guess, but it's fine." I stab a piece of watermelon pretending that it was mr please-kiss-my-ass. "It's totally fine."