CHAPTER SEVEN
Nyx's POV.
All through the week, Danny had been blowing up my phone.
I knew exactly what he was bugging me for so I decided I'll go whenever I'm free, since I am now occupied with work at Evander's company.
I'd left home by nine a.m with my BDSM kit and nice lingerie to change into, because where I was headed was far from where I stayed.
Thankfully, Danny approved using masks, so I would have no problems about being objectified by anyone in the city.
I plop out of my car, staring at my screen one more time but the rays of sunlight have me squinting. I read through the address, making my way down the alley.
The walls of the alley have graffiti all over it, and looks dirty with different piles of dirt and muddy water. A few drunkards and beggars laid around and I'm seriously wondering why anyone would have a studio around here.
But then again, perhaps owning a p***sites wasn't something that they could openly do unlike in Las Vegas.
My hands curl around my nose tightly as I move deeper into the alley. With every step I take, it gets darker and creepy with all that rat noise.
I've never really been scared of places like this–to survive, I've had to live in worse conditions. But what was pissing me off was that the SUV meant to pick me up was nowhere in sight. Now, I have to wait here for how long?
Clenching my jaws, I pulled out my phone from my bum shorts pocket, "I'll give that motherfucker a piece of my mind," I mutter, dialing Danny's number.
As the phone rings in my ears, I hear faint footsteps. I glance over my shoulders but there's no one in sight. I turn back and I hear it again, now it's even more audible than before.
I glance over my shoulders, still nothing. My breath hitches as annoyance surges through me, whoever is doing that should better find someone else to pick one because I'm not in the mood!
Danny isn't picking up, the car is yet to arrive and those damn, stupid footsteps won't stop echoing through the dark.
As frustration claws through me, I begin pacing around, my eyes widening for someone to finally show up after all that walking but there's no one.
"Nah, I'm done with this bullshit," I huff, heading out of the alley to the brighter part that leads to my car.
I plug in my ear pods, listening to Tatiana Manaois as I pad through the dark. My boiling body soon begins to relax as the rhythm of "Helplessly" echoes through my ear and I'm almost close to the brighter part when something suddenly snags around my neck.
I freeze, my ear pods flying out of my ear. My heart starts racing almost immediately and my body is trembling.
What the fuck is this?
I can't see anything.
I curl my hands around my neck, following the curves and that's when I figure that it's a guy.
Danny didn't mention anything about Stockholm syndrome sex so this motherfucker has to be a stranger.
"Hey, let me go!" I bark, struggling under his grip but the stranger snags on to my neck tighter, making my body stiffen.
He presses his body against mine, and the raw smell of cigarettes and gin is all I can perceive.
"You thought you could scam the boss, you little brat," the stranger grumbles, breathing heavily.
The fuck?
What boss?
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about and if you don't let me go, then I promise, I'm going to make you pay!" My voice booms with dread but anxiety pools inside me.
"So audacious. I hope the boss gives me permission to kill you myself," He growls.
Now that has my eyes widening with shock.
Death?
For real?
I have to get out of here.
I struggle in his grip, pulling hard on his hand around my neck but it does nothing. My heart is racing and my head is beginning to ring from the pressure surrounding my throat.
If I throw the box in my hand against his face, that'll give me enough time to run to my car. Holding this thought, I lifted the box but for some reason, my palms decided that it was going to be sweaty right there.
I can barely lift the box above my waist and that has me grunting.
"Stupid lady, you thought you were smart? Well, I've caught you and you're going to pay for every damn penny you took from the boss," The guy says, and begins dragging me further into the dark.
"You're out of your fucking mind! Let me go or I'm screaming!" I threaten and his other hand that's masked in a dirty glove presses over my lips.
But I can't give up.
I don't imagine dying by the hands of some goon.
He keeps dragging me and I try hitting him on the knee with the box but it barely causes damage.
Veins pop out of my face as I gasp for air, still struggling in his arms and stomping my feet against the floor in loud stomps.
He succeeds with dragging me into the dark, only stopping after throwing me into a room.
The room looks different from what I had expected, it was clean, and had files neatly arranged with a calendar and a clock hanging on the wall.
There's also a computer and a printer and a couch–where a nerdy looking guy is sitting and grinning at me.
I rub around my throat, easing the pain as I glared daggers at the guy.
"Do I look like the bitch who took your money?!" I thunder immediately, curling my hands into fists by my side.
He grins, rising from the black couch and adjusting his glasses, "Where's my money, Calista?"
My brows furrow, "Tf is a Calista? Man, I thought you're supposed to see better when you have glasses on."
He lifts a brow and comes closer, bringing his face so close to mine that I could see the tiny spots of pimples and the redness in those black orbs.
He suddenly leans back, examining my full appearance before flashing a furious look at the guy behind me.
"God damnit, she doesn't have the tattoo on her chin! She's not the one," He states, and I spin around to the guy, crossing my arms.
"You better run, because when I'm out of here, I'll beat you into a pulp," I growl.
The guy scoffs, fixing his gaze at his boss with an apologetic and confused look, "I'm sorry boss. She looks exactly like the description you gave."
"Greg, what did I tell you about catching people in the dark?" The guy in glasses asks like he's talking to a child, rolling the sleeves of his black shirt.
Greg grumbles but no words come out.
"That's it. No more gin for the next week," The guy in glasses states and Greg parts his lips but snaps them shut.
I wonder who this guy is but I'm certainly not interested in finding out right now.
"Okay, great show. I gotta go now," I say, turning towards the door but Greg blocks the road.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I thunder.
"You're a visitor, you can't leave," a voice comes from behind.
Now what's this guy going on about?
My face splits with confusion, "Excuse me? I was kidnapped! What the hell do you mean by "I'm a visitor?"
The guy in glasses grins, fiddling his hands together as he stares at me. I don't know why he keeps grinning so weirdly, he's creepy.
"See, people who come in here never go out the same way." He explains so casually, but that only irritates me further.
I roll my eyes, "Oh my God. Please, don't tell me you're going to rob me."
He shakes his head in the negative, leaning his weight against the couch.
"I'm an undercover detective. People who come in here are either criminals, or assistants. And since you're none, that's dangerous for me." He states, his tone dripping with seriousness.
I snort, "So what are you going to do?"
"Make you work for me."
This time, I chuckle mockingly, "And if I refuse?"
He smirks, "You die."