Heart of Stone - Stone and Fire #1 [17+] (REWRITING)

Chapter 10

sry been too long cuties

Adriana's POV

Alcatraz? More like hell. Only difference was, this place was encompassed in a few, giant panes of glass that only made the outside world seem even more depressing. His obsession with doom and gloom didn't affect me night and day, but the whole prospect of it did.

A modern, weapon-based block of grey concrete and glass capable of defeating any nation in an arm's race. I bet there were a few hidden rooms capable of unearthing a massive mob of brain-eating amoeba somewhere. My persistency to stay in just my own room didn't seem to affect him much. Either I'd creep downstairs when the light of his study flickered yellow from under the door, or pretend to sleep the moment his footsteps thudded up the stairs. 

I mean, it was only a matter of time before he caught a whiff of my true intentions. Storming and breaching was easy enough. It was the attacking stage that made the bottoms of my feet lighten their load on the heated staircase. Two days, and no sign of this 'right hand man' Layla and spoken to me about. Where was Petrov? Was he avoiding me? Surely he hadn't turned into a fucking pipsqueak after uncapping my horrors and swiveling them around his finger, only to yank me backwards a couple months every night. 

I'd been on edge both nights, the only lights capable of keeping me aware the headlights in my dreams. Streetlights, too, blown through a flickering and mossy dark alley, with dark shadows of men crowded around me. Blood. Pain. Indignation.

With a deep breath, I yanked open the metal fridge handle and grinned when a big bowl of cut-up fruit lay on the top shelf. My stomach rumbled as I pulled the cold ceramic dish out.

The moment I went to shut the door, there was a shuffle of steps from somewhere close, and then I nearly dropped the bowl at the sight of another woman. 

"What the hell?" I followed the high-pitched voice upwards, immediately narrowing my eyes on a tall, skinny blonde woman with collarbones visible from a mile away.

Her narrowed eyes honed in on the fruit. "I cut that up for Mr. Volkov."

I rolled my eyes and set it on the counter, facing her with a bored look. What was it with him and blondes? Specifically, ones with a haughty attitude and bodies made for posing on the runway? It was obvious he had a type.

"I think you meant Mrs." I said with a grin, hands fishing for cutlery in the top drawer. The strawberries had caught my eye since I opened the damn door, and I wasn't gonna let my stomach rumble in an act of weakness in front of this.. she-devil. 

"What?" Her eyes told me she wasn't used to another woman cladding up her kitchen. By the looks of her high-risen top-bun with a few extra strands, she looked a maid just as much as she looked like a nightly escapade. 

"Sorry. Let me rephrase that. I'm about to become Mrs. Volkov, so it's vital you get into the habit of cutting fruit for the both of us, yeah?"

I swallowed down my smile with a chunk of pineapple, the slight sourness of it showing up on her face instead.

"What are you, his slut?" She dragged her eyes down my form with a heavy, not-so-slick look. The kind that told me she was intimidated just as she was pissed off. 

"Depends. I don't fuck men who already have one." My glance at her apron gave it away, red rushing over her face like the satisfaction in my chest. 

Act like a bitch, get treated like one.

"You're just jealous he gets to fuck me every night and you don't."

The statement hit me hard, clouded with weedy desperation yet also capable of being true. Every night? Immediately, my mind traveled forward, to the nights after I'd slip off his ring and put it on my bedpost. Would he take advantage of my fury and keep fucking her in his own room? Distaste and revulsion crawled pineapple up my throat at the idea.