Page 17 of Sin in My Inbox (Sexting Spark #1)

Avery

In the end, I decided to come. I must be losing my mind. I was about to walk into a mafia boss's lair, yet somehow I felt this sick, twisted anticipation about it. This self-awareness terrified me, but I couldn't stop myself from moving forward.

The taxi climbed the winding mountain road. Through the window, I caught glimpses of the estate perched on the distant peak, its silhouette emerging and fading in the sunset like some sleeping beast.

The baroque architecture looked magnificent bathed in golden light.

I stood before this massive structure, nervously smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my dress, trying to appear more composed than I felt.

"Miss Solovyeva?" The guard's gaze was sharp as a hawk's as he carefully checked the photo in his hand. "Please follow me."

The heavy gates swung inward with a low metallic groan. I took a deep breath, telling myself this was just a normal date, even though I knew deep down it was anything but .

The opulent hall instantly made me feel insignificant. Crystal chandeliers sparkled like stars, casting diamond-like shadows; every painting on the walls was priceless, every piece of furniture radiated understated luxury, silently declaring the power of the man who owned this place.

But there was something oppressive about all this beauty, as if even the air was heavier here. The house was so vast and silent I could hear my heels clicking against the marble floor, each echo sharp and clear.

"Miss Solovyeva."

A cool female voice interrupted my observations. The speaker was a young woman in a fitted black uniform, her hair neatly pinned back. She gave me a standard professional smile.

"I'm Nina." She gave a slight bow, crisp and efficient. "Mr. Belov is handling some urgent matters. Please allow me to show you around first."

"Hello, Nina." I tried to keep my voice steady. "Did Dmitri ask you to wait for me here?"

Nina nodded. "Yes. Mr. Belov has been expecting you for some time."

Without another word, she turned and climbed the wide marble staircase with light steps. I couldn't help watching her feet, my gaze eventually settling on her shoes. Simple black heels, the slender heel perfectly supporting her elegant posture.

I looked down at my own worn shoes, the edges slightly peeling from wear, looking rather pathetic.

But these were the best ones in my closet—at least they wouldn't get me judged by the carpet the moment I walked in.

Except for the pair Dmitri had given me, which was so expensive I couldn't bear to look at it, let alone let it touch the ground.

I struggled to maintain a confident stride, head high, following Nina as if I were the kind of woman who frequented places like this.

But in reality, with every step, my brain was screaming: Run!

What are you thinking, showing up in a mansion probably worth more than your entire life, wearing these peeling shoes?

I even started worrying my footsteps were too loud, or that some cheap piece of fabric would give me away .

God knows how badly I wanted to turn around, pretend I'd forgotten something and slip back home to my cramped but safe little rental.

But I didn't. I just took a deep breath, swallowed those ridiculous thoughts, and kept walking forward.

What kept me going was crystal clear—Dmitri. The name burned like a brand, searing through all my insecurity and hesitation. I couldn't forget him, couldn't lie to myself about falling for him.

"This is the main living room," Nina guided me along, introducing things in a steady, low voice. "That's the dining room. Upstairs is the private area. Mr. Belov's study is at the end of the second floor. Please follow me."

The vast space, the excessive tidiness, and this guide who operated like precision machinery—it all created an invisible pressure, chipping away at the courage I'd just managed to gather.

I tried to make conversation, to break this uncomfortable silence.

"Managing such a large estate must require quite a few people? "

"Fifty-three." Nina's answer came without hesitation, precise and swift. "Each one has undergone the strictest background checks and professional training." She didn't look back, but that number drilled into my ears with crystal clarity.

Fifty-three people.

The number echoed in my head. Well, I had to admit, I'd really gotten myself tangled up with one hell of a man.

We climbed the wide staircase, the figures in the oil paintings on either side seeming to watch me, those centuries-old eyes as if they could see through the lies I'd woven. I felt like I was walking under a microscope, every expression, every movement potentially exposing some secret.

As we neared the second floor, muffled sounds reached me. Even through the heavy oak door, I could recognize Dmitri's voice.

My heart instantly went wild.

It was him! It was Dmitri!

I realized how desperately I'd wanted to hear his voice, how urgently I needed to see him. Damn it, I really was insane, getting this excited just from hearing a man's voice.

Nina's footsteps continued ahead, but my body had developed its own will. My legs moved off course uncontrollably, heading toward that voice. I needed to see him, needed to confirm he was there. Hell, I didn't even know what I was going to do, I just knew I had to see him.

"Miss Solovyeva?" Nina noticed my deviation, a warning in her voice.

But I couldn't hear her anymore. Dmitri was behind that door, so close. Three days of separation had made me realize how dependent I'd become on his presence, how desperately I craved his attention.

I pushed open the slightly ajar oak door.

Time seemed to freeze in that instant, the scene in the study unfolding before me like a vision from hell.

A man knelt on the Persian rug, covered in blood, his face so swollen his features were unrecognizable, his clothes torn to reveal purple bruises. Beside him, another body lay still, the blood beneath it already congealed to dark red, giving off a rusty metallic smell.

In the corner, Nick stood silently, his suit immaculate, expression cold, as if the carnage before him was just another day at the office.

And Dmitri stood at the center of it all, a silver pistol in his hand, the barrel aimed at the kneeling man. Blood spattered his face, appearing a sickly dark red in the light, but his expression remained calm, even carrying a sort of cold elegance.

Hearing the door open, he raised an eyebrow and turned his head slightly. Our eyes met in midair.

In that moment, I saw surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by something complex I couldn't read.

"Nina." His voice was calm, as if my sudden appearance was just a minor inconvenience. "Take Miss Solovyeva away. Now."

The words hit like ice water, instantly shocking me from my stupor.

"Yes, sir." Nina's voice came from behind as her arm wrapped around me, pulling me from the doorway .

She gently closed the heavy oak door. The latch made a soft click that sounded especially sharp in the silent hallway.

I tried to calm myself, but my lungs felt crushed by invisible weight, every breath painful and difficult. That bloody, sticky smell seemed to have seeped deep into my nostrils.

I'd always feared scenes of violence and bloodshed like this.

My father's drunken rages, the bruises on my mother's face, the blood splattered on white walls—that same rust smell, that same fear, that same helplessness crashed over me like a tidal wave.

These were the most terrifying memories buried deep in my mind.

My father was a complete drunk and bastard.

He'd always come home wasted and beat my mother to the ground whenever she tried to stop him.

Whenever I witnessed it all and cried helplessly, he'd grab me and throw me aside.

My body began shaking uncontrollably, spreading from my fingertips through my entire body, every muscle spasming violently. Even after all these years, even though my father was long dead and I was an adult with my own world, that fear still followed me like a shadow that would never fade.

Nina seemed to notice my deteriorating state and held me more firmly. I could feel her trying to get me away from that suffocating scene.

BANG!

A gunshot exploded like thunder, penetrating the heavy wooden door, echoing through the hallway.

My entire world collapsed instantly.

"No," I heard my own voice, so weak it was barely audible. "No..."

The shot had been fired. Reality couldn't be changed. I knew that man kneeling on the ground, the one who'd just been begging for his life, was probably now a corpse.

I felt my knees going weak, not just from the horrific scene I'd witnessed, but because that deep-rooted despair from childhood was consuming me again. I'd thought I'd escaped, thought I'd found a safe harbor, but now I realized I'd just fled from one violent world to another .

Nina led me to a side parlor and sat me on the sofa, quickly pouring me a glass of warm water.

"Drink some water. It'll help." Her voice was unexpectedly gentle.

My hands shook as I took the glass, unable even to hold it steady. Some water spilled on my hands, the warmth bringing me slightly back to reality.

"I'm sorry." My voice was barely audible.

"No need to apologize." Nina took out a handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead. "This reaction is perfectly normal."

Her expression remained unchanged, clearly used to such situations. I finally understood where I was—not some fairy tale castle, but the entrance to hell. Dmitri wasn't some romantic prince from a story, but a ruthless mafia boss.

"Mr. Belov," Nina seemed to read my thoughts, sitting beside me with a meaningful tone, "isn't usually like this."

I looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

Nina leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "He's only this merciless when dealing with betrayal. The servants whisper that years ago, the master's fiancée deceived him." A flash of real fear crossed her eyes. "Mr. Dmitri just—"