Illegally His!!??

V

As soon as that man left, the women rushed themselves to complete their tasks.

"I beg you do as you are ordered," a young girl said in a whisper. "If not for you, then at least for our sake. If you won't cooperate, the consequences will be unbearable for us." Her words were uttered in a soft whimpering tone.

Giving proxy to all that was happening rather than get too provoked, I resigned. And listened to those women; it was temple wiring. As I felt quite prepared, I faced the mirror. Lord,  I was heavenly flawless.

There the gown emphasized the right curves and flesh on the right corners, and for my well-put hair in a low chignon princess braid, the make-up was simply on point. With long loop earrings and a thin chain connecting around my neck, I unconsciously gaped at my own reflection till my drool almost dripped.

"Do you like this, ma'am?" asked the same girl again, almost dragging me back to reality.

"Yeah..yeah..its okay." I lied in order not to give them more expectations. Every one quietly nodded in assent, but it was clear that their spirits were not raised.

"Let us guide you to the hall where the master is waiting," they said in unison, leading me through the hallway, down a grand staircase, and into a lavishly decorated living room.

As I entered the hall, all eyes turned toward me, mesmerized by my appearance—or so I thought. The women slowly guided me forward, and I stood quietly, scanning the room as if trying to capture every detail.

Groups of men lounged around, sipping whiskey and laughing. In the center, a few women provocatively danced, practically naked, their bodies moving in exaggerated ways, catching attention. While waiters circulated, offering snacks and drinks. Yet amid the casual chaos, I couldn't ignore the heavy security presence stationed throughout the room.

The lively chatter and music abruptly ceased when the double doors swung open, revealing him—the mystery man. As he strode into the hall, unbuttoning his coat, every head bowed deeply in deference.

Suddenly, I felt a hand push my head down. "Do like everyone else, or you'll regret it," an elderly woman whispered urgently.

He reached his throne-like seat at the front of the room and settled into it, his eyes immediately locking on me. A slow, smug smirk played across his lips.

"Ah, princess," he drawled in a mocking tone, "why are you standing so far away?" He patted his thigh, motioning for me to come closer. "Come here."

I rolled my eyes, completely unbothered by his presence, which only made him laugh—a cold, mirthless sound.

"Ah, feisty. I like it," he said, leaning back in his seat. His voice dropped to a low, commanding tone. "I'm Xavier Volkov, the ruthless Russian mafia capo. And also the same guy you saved two years ago. Does that ring a bell, princess?"

His words made me freeze. My gaze sharpened as I recalled that night—two years ago, during a school trip to Russia. The incident I had tried to forget.

"And now here you are in Moscow, Russia—my territory," he continued, a cold smile curving his lips. "So you'd better behave, or I'm sure you won't like the consequences." His smile darkened. "Now be a good girl and come to me."

Before I could react, the women behind me shoved me forward. I stumbled, and before I knew it, I fell into his arms. His hands gripped my waist tightly, pulling me down onto his lap.

"Ah, good girl," he murmured, nuzzling his face into my neck. A wave of disgust rolled over me. Instinctively, I shoved him away and jumped to my feet, my voice rising in fury.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" I shouted, glaring at him.