Property Of a Millionaire

28. Property Of a Millionaire

Hello, fuckers! How is it going, hope all is well. Just as a heads up, the following in Italics will be spoken in Russian, and Italics and underlined will be in French. I didn't want to translate anything incorrectly so I apologize. Enjoy! 🙃

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Maximillion's Point of View

I thought he needed more time, it's been days since Miles has been to work. I've been going mad without him. Phone calls, messages, even visits to both his apartment and his father's house. I thought after lunch and that conversation, we would've skipped the childish behavior and moved past that. When his friends didn't know where he disappeared to, I knew something was wrong. After work, I had Aleksandr drive me back to one of the Mob hotspots, the empty restaurants we own, and track his phone.

"We got nothing, Don. His phone seems to be shut off or dead." Fucking hell. Where could he be? He wouldn't shut me up and leave, at least without telling anyone.

"He has this app. You can use my login to access his master account then track where his device is." This was a risk I was willing to take. If the login failed then everything will log out and I will have no way of knowing where he is.

"It worked! We got in. It's a discrete location; An old abandoned house. Used to belong to the Chalamet's. That can't be a coincidence, Don." They're right. I slammed my hand down on the table that sat in between me and my men. The silence of the restaurant made my thoughts get louder.

"Fucking Chalamet. They want to start the battle, then we'll be ending it." I sneered as they cheered. The hatred I had for Malcolm only built up from here. He knew the only way to get to me was through Miles, but how did he find him?

"A call for you Don." It was an unknown number. These annoying fuckers, don't they have other people's time to waste?

"Don't pick it up, it's nonsense." I left my phone in the middle of the table and started to discuss other issues on the matter until a series of messages were distributed.

I picked up my phone and opened it to the messages. There were 20 or 30 messages of the same picture. Over and over and over. My stomach pained to look at them. My head felt heavy and I dropped to the seat. Everything in the room shifted and I didn't know what to do. For the first time in my life, I felt sort of powerless.

It was from Miles. He was chained down to a mattress, a disgusting mattress in the middle of a room. Most likely in the abandoned house. What scared me was the fact that he seemed unconscious and that he was shirtless. His small body curled up into a ball. There was a nasty bruise forming on his lower abdomen and that made me sick. Those fuckers had the nerve to touch what's mine. He was still in his briefs but that only made me fear what Malcolm has planned to do next. As if he read my thoughts, a call from that bastard appeared on my phone.

There was static in the beginning, but once a familiar laugh came through, my hands balled into fists. "Maxi, I was hoping to hear from you."

"Chalamet, you have so much nerve calling me. Taking Miles? That's a whole other level." I knew he could tell how pissed I was. I tried to not show emotion, but I couldn't hold it in once I saw those pictures.

"Taking him? Maybe, but he came to me first. He looks so beautiful, all tied up for me. Naked." His words taunted me.

"Malcolm I swear to god... don't think about touching a hair on his body." My threats were meaningless since he had Miles right under his hand.

"Or what? You'll hurt me? Think of what I'm about to do to your poor boy. With that sweet piece of ass, you should be scared." My heart stopped for a moment. The thoughts of the things he might do terrified me.

I grit my teeth but calmed down before answering this spineless bastard. "Malcolm, as an Ivanov... I plead to you not to touch him. He played no part in this."

"No part? That's not what he showed. He came to see me, with very familiar pictures and lots of questions. Seems like your boy knows so much for 'playing no part'." Fuck Miles...

"Don't start something you won't finish. I will bring fire and pain with my wrath. A Russian man is always true to his word." I don't care if he understood the last part but my men did. They looked at one another and nodded their heads understanding what is about to come.

"Oh I will finish and your boy will take it all. A French man always finishes last." I hung up the phone by throwing it across the room. A couple of people flinched at my uncalled-for action. He's such an arrogant pervert. I couldn't wait for the moment I get to wrap my fingers around his neck and be with my Miles again.

I knew I had to be strategic about the way this was going to happen or else it will all be for nothing.

"We don't have enough men here for a fight like that. We're unprepared but we'll go on your orders, Don."

"We go in, save Miles, and end Malcolm or we die trying." I would risk it all for the person I care for the most. My Miles Stevenson.

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Miles' Point of View

My head ached. My body felt weak. My throat was dry. I had been laying in this bed for too long; 3 days, 7 hours, 5 minutes, and 16 seconds. Now 17, 18, 19, and 20 seconds. Get the point?

I miss everyone. Or at least someone to talk to. There's only been one person who comes in and out of the room. They wore a mask and gloves and gave me a couple of sips of water and pieces of bread as if I would survive on that. I didn't argue though, I been kicked and punched enough by Malcolm. He's such a prick.

The man came back into the room. He had a normal build. Nothing out of the ordinary, except a bit of muscular and of course larger than me. I knew I couldn't take it to him so I didn't bother to try. He walked over to the bed and crouched over by my head. His gloves fingers going through my dirty and deflated curls. I was going to do something that might fuck me over. But what more do I have to lose?

"Fucking hell!" The person yelled. The mask fell to the dirty concrete ground as he back away from me, dropping the bowl of water on the floor. Welp, there goes my daily hydration. I had ripped the mask off, slightly digging my nails into his face. He stood a little way from the bed and held on his face but I could make out who it was with the help of the bit of sunlight that comes in and out of this room.

"T-Tyler?"

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