She is the Queen

Chapter 24

In the early morning tranquillity, I would stir from slumber, eyelids slowly fluttering open to the sight of Andrea, still deep in the realm of dreams. His consistent breathing, the peaceful expression on his face, elicited feelings of warmth and affection within me. An innate desire to envelop him in a comforting hug tugged at my heartstrings, but responsibilities, especially towards the office, always managed to loosen their pull.

Begrudgingly separating myself from Andrea, I would retreat into the shower, the scent of Vanilla Shower Gel greeting my senses, boasting the ability to magically dispel morning lethargy. My choice of Chocolate Shampoo lent a decadent aroma, while a subsequent layer of baby oil sealed in the freshness. The familiar scent of baby powder was oddly comforting, and stepping out of the shower felt like emerging from a cocoon of serene relaxation.

Armed with a hair oil that lent a healthy sheen, I would then tackle my locks with a brush. The resulting waves, left to dry naturally, cascaded down my back, subtly enhancing my fresh, natural look. A cleansing face foam, followed by a 15-minute mask, would rejuvenate my skin, while a gentle lip scrub and hydrating lip balm added the finishing touch. A spritz of perfume on my neck and a thin layer of cream on my hands and legs introduced the final notes to my symphony of morning routine.

The decision of the day's outfit was no less ceremonious, with a black bodysuit and matching skirt stealing the spotlight. To add a hint of sophistication, I draped a chic oversized blazer over my shoulders and slipped onto my black heeled boots. Never undermining the importance of the perfect accessory, my faithful black Chanel handbag was the last item I picked up before departing.

As I stole a final tender kiss from the dreaming Andrea, the outside world awaited. My driver, Mr Archichoke, and the sleek black BMW were my faithful companions in navigating the city's buzzing arteries. The exchange of cordial greetings set the drive's friendly tone, and as the cityscape whizzed past us, our destination was set: the office.

Inside the office's familiar confines, my day unfolded seamlessly. The revision and final touches to the 'Circle' plan were executed flawlessly, meetings and deals concluded on a satisfactory note. But a single irregularity, the deactivated security cameras that lacked their usual red glow, cast an imposing shadow over an otherwise productive day. Little did I know, my cautious instincts had picked up on Aleksandr's first play against the Circle. The game was truly afoot.

In the assured tranquillity of my ivory tower office on the 42nd floor, I swiftly noticed the imposter guards. They were alien to my sight, unfamiliar in a way that made me study their faces. The men who usually kept watch over the fort were absent, their history, their lineage, their names, all were etched in my mind. Yet these figures, hovering ominously like spectres in the room, were complete strangers.

Finding six unfamiliar guards in a place I considered my fortress was troubling enough, but the absence of my trusted assistant felt like someone had switched off the north star leading me. Questions whirred in my mind like a tempest; who had orchestrated this deception? And more importantly, why?

I quickly scrambled for my phone, shooting off a rapid text to Andrea. My fingers brushed the keyboard with urgency, the frantic pulse in my veins dictating my speed. I had to let him know what was unfolding, reassure him that whatever evil had struck, I would face it head-on.

My message was short, simple: "I am in danger but remain calm. They got me, but I'll be safe. Love you." Expressing my love for Andrea, even in this dire emergency, was not merely instinctive, but also a much-needed beacon of hope.

Turning my attention then to the intruder guards, gargantuan figures towering over my comparatively petite frame. My heart pounded defiantly against my chest wall as I mustered the courage to meet their gazes. Like a street-smart gambler eying competition, I sized them up and rid of my only means of communication – I shattered my phone's SIM card and asserted with a calm composure, unusual in such circumstances, "I guess it's time to meet your boss, isn't it?"

Their faces betrayed no emotion, only shock emanated from their eyes as they grappled with my calm acceptance of the situation. But their quiet stoicism was no surprise: as Russians, they were masters at masking their inner turmoil, projecting an icy exterior regardless of what heated emotions blazed within. Their pseudo-indifference, however, didn't deter me from surmising the leader: a brutish, stern figure who, with a cloth in hand, approached me.

His intent was apparent, and I inwardly scoffed at the impending attack; I'd encountered this chemical before, enough to know its effects. Consideration for my possible immunity, however, had held no place in the grand scheme of this orchestrated disaster.

As the cloth was pressed onto my face, the ensuing suffocation was drowned out by my own determination. An all-encompassing darkness rolled in, a black wave of uncertainty that promised a realm of unpredictability. Lost in the abyss of the unknown, I held onto one thing: my resolve to withstand whatever was thrown my way. And so, I succumbed to the darkness, ready for the storm that awaited.