Elena stared at the room she was led to by one of the maids.It was one of the guest rooms. There was a king-sized bed in the centre, with white sheets and pillows. There were two nightstands on both sides of the bed, each having a lamp on top of them. A wardrobe stood on the other side of the room, next to a door that probably led to a bathroom. Upon looking up, Elena noticed a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Crystals and diamonds decorated it, reflecting the light coming from the lamps. The room looked beautiful, elegant and expensive.Elena thanked the maid and entered the room. As soon as she closed the door, she slumped down on the bed, breathing out a sigh of relief. She was exhausted. Everything that had happened today had taken its toll on her. She could have never expected the drama that unfolded right in front of her eyes.One would think, a family like Pestov would do better to keep their family affairs and controversies under wraps. However, it seemed as if they could
Elena couldn’t believe she had decided to leave the Pestov castle with Simon. Seriously, what the hell was she thinking? Why would she do something so reckless when everything was going according to the plan? Well, maybe she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Or better yet, Simon didn’t give her much choice in the first place. He dragged her out of the castle in less than three minutes and had her sitting in his car in the next five minutes. The whole thing was crazy. Elena had no idea why he was so adamant about leaving that house, or why he looked so damn pissed off all of a sudden. One minute he was being civil towards her, the next minute he was practically manhandling her out of the house. It was as if he was a different person altogether. She bit her lip, as she stole a glance at the man sitting next to her. He had told her driver to follow them, while giving instructions to his own driver to not let anyone know that she had left the house. But why? Why did he want to kee
Elena woke with a severe headache the next morning, her body aching and sore. God! She thought, as she rubbed her temples and sat up slowly, trying to focus around herself. It was taking a lot of time and effort for her brain to make sense of everything that was in front of her, her eyesight blurry as she blinked several times in succession, trying to figure out where she was exactly. “Fuck!” She cursed out loud when she realized she was completely naked under the covers. And then, it dawned on her. The dinner at the Pestovs. Sex with Simon in his car, and then at his place, in his room, on his bed, in his bathroom, and then, on the floor and then, back in the bedroom and then… “Fuck!” She covered her face with her hands, trying to block out all the memories of the night before. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have lost control like that? Ugh. Why would she sleep with the man she swore not to have anything with? Why would she break her own vow? What the hell was wro
“What is it?” She asked him after finishing half of her plate. “You’re beautiful,” he replied simply. No shame. No hesitation. No joking tone. He was completely serious. She felt her cheeks burn slightly, unable to meet his gaze. “Um…thanks?” He chuckled lightly before placing his hand on top of hers, caressing the skin gently with his thumb. “I mean it,” he whispered huskily, causing goosebumps to run down her spine. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.” She glanced up at him for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of something strange flickering across his eyes, but then, it was gone completely, replaced by his usual charming smile. “Thank you.” She mumbled under her breath, avoiding eye contact with him. “I appreciate your compliment.” “I’ll be honest with you.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek tenderly in his palm. “You were gorgeous yesterday in that dress but right now, you look even better.” She arched a brow, not able to help
Richard McDowell stared at the picture the detective had sent him on his number, scowling darkly as he studied it carefully. The image was blurry and taken from a distance, but Richard could still make out the subject clearly enough.Elena, with no one else but Simon Walsh. They were stepping out of his car, him carrying her in his arms and into his house. It was like they were…Anger jolted against frustration in his mind as he clenched his jaw tightly, and barely held himself back from tossing the damn phone across the room.“What the hell?” He growled, dialling instantly for the detective. “When did you take this picture?”“Yesterday,” the man answered calmly, not bothered by the anger in Richard’s voice whatsoever.“Why the fuck didn’t you call me earlier? I could have done something…anything.”“Well, Mr. McDowell, I did send you the text message on this morning.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “And besides, you told me to keep an eye on Elena Matthews. Not interfere wi
Melinda stared at the picture of Cecelia, her daughter on the phone and allowed a tear to squeeze out of her eye, holding back the uncontrollable urge to break down and cry.“Ma’am,” she heard a woman walking through the door of the waiting room, standing in front of her and speaking as gently as possible. She wore a black blazer and matching pants, and her long dark hair was tied back neatly in a ponytail.She looked young, probably in her early thirties or so. Melinda straightened up as she faced her, wiping away her tears quickly. “Is he here?”The woman nodded, smiling cautiously. “Yes. Please, come with me.”Melinda stood up without hesitation, following the woman towards a hallway until they stopped at one of the rooms.She hesitated momentarily before turning towards her again. “Mr Walsh is waiting for you inside.”Melinda thanked her before opening the door and stepping into the room, closing it behind her.It was a large office, decorated elegantly and furnished beautifully.
Detective Cortez stood at the threshold of Cecelia McDowell’s apartment and looked around. The place had to have been one of the most luxurious apartments he had seen before someone decided it needed a little bit of charred makeover and set fire to it.He wondered if the one to set fire was Cecelia herself, or was it someone else trying to destroy something that could tie them to her disappearance. Or well, maybe, murder?Who could tell what happened to that poor woman? Her number had not been traced yet, and neither had they gotten any hits on any of her credit cards.Strange, wasn’t it?From what he had seen and heard about the girl, she didn’t seem like the smartest tool in the box. She was good-looking, sure, but her acting skills were average. Four out of five movies she had done so far had been super flops, and the one that performed better than the others was only because the lead actor was the son of an Academy Award-nominated director, Jeff Frank. The son for whom the father
Elena sat in her office and tried to focus on the piles of documents on her desk.But she couldn’t. Every time she picked up a piece of paper and tried to skim through it, Simon’s words echoed in her ear, as if he was sitting right next to her and not miles away in his own office, doing god knows what.Now that she thought about it, she shouldn’t have said to his proposal. There was no rush to give an answer right away, was there? She could have asked for more time. She could have told him she wasn’t ready. But she didn’t. And now nothing was making sense.It wasn’t as if she was doubting what they had would vanish once commitment came into the picture, but now that she had the time and space to think of him, of her, and then, she realized how little she knew about the man. Except for the fact that he was absolutely hot in bed and that he was a mindblowing kisser, the only personal fact she knew about him came from his surprise visit at the dinner thrown by Pestovs.She knew now that