Russian Boss’s Secret Baby by Bella King

Ch 13

MIA

The upstairs of the mansion is just as ornate as the downstairs, maybe even more so. The ceiling is dotted with skylights down the main hallway, there’s expensive artwork along the walls, and the carpet is so soft under my feet that I could take a nap on it without blankets or pillows.

It contrasts so heavily with the thin, rough carpeting in my apartment. I find it so strange how such little differences can be so apparent one lifestyle to another.

I find a supply closet full of cleaning supplies. All of the bottles are mostly full, which shows me that Slate’s last assistant did probably do a terrible job. I might be here longer than I thought.

The closet is missing a vacuum, though.

Damn. I don’t want to bother Slate for something so stupid, so I’ll just look around a bit longer. Going through his things feels weird, even though he asked me to clean the entire upstairs, but I really don’t want to bother him, least I get sucked into another one of his trips.

There are so many rooms up here that I wonder what exactly this house was designed for. Each bedroom looks like it came straight out of an IKEA showroom with a private bathroom to match. I search through the mostly empty closets, but I don’t see a vacuum anywhere. Does he just not own one?

At the end of the hall, there is a large office space with wood floors and gigantic bookshelves that seems to be mostly unused as I approach it.

I might as well just check it, just to say I tried my best.

When I walk in, I see that not only is there a regular closet built in like the rest of the rooms, but there’s a heavy dark red door in the center of the back wall.

If I were an idiot in a horror movie, I would definitely open the door immediately. Instead, I turn on my heels out of the office, slamming the office door behind me. As I stand outside the room, I consider all of the possibilities of what that room could contain.

Is it full of weapons? Prisoners? Drugs? Money?

Well, now I need to know. I guess I’m the idiot in the horror movie.

I open the office door and creep back inside, somehow fascinated that the red door is still just as I left it and not misplaced or pacing the room like a dangerous animal. When I reach the door, I’m prompted to quickly look behind myself for watching eyes, which feels suspicious even to me.

In the lock, there is a black key that must have been left here by accident.

When I turn the handle, the door opens without much noise at all, much to my relief given the terrible acoustics in the office. The inside of the room is pitch black with no windows and no lights on. Without stepping inside, I slide my hand along the inside of both walls for a light switch, partially convinced that I’ll be grabbed by a tentacle and pulled into the depths of hell.

Instead, I find a light switch as I intended, and when I turn the light on, I’m petrified by what I find.

In the center of the room is a table with restraints for a person’s hands and feet.

The room is very large, and there are multiple devices, platforms, and cages equipped for restraining a human.

The discovery is surreal. I feel like I’m in the circle of Hell dedicated to those who fornicate and practice unrepentant hedonism. The room is covered wall-to-wall in deep red velvet, and the flooring is hardwood just like that of the office.

Maybe it’s easier for cleaning up fluids, says a horrible voice in my head.

Once I’ve taken in the larger scale of the room, my fear abates, and I feel more curious than anything. At first, I creep towards the table in the center of the room. The top of the table is padded, resembling an operating bed. The restraints are lined with a soft fabric, and the black leather straps are wide.

It must not be for hurting people if everything is reinforced like that.

I kneel down and check out the cage built in below the table. There are chains attached to the floor in there, and I feel my stomach starting to feel sick with nerves again.

In the far corner of the room is a king size bed on an ornate wood frame with carved posts. When I approach the bed, it’s so high off the ground that I need to climb with my arms and legs to get on top of it. I lie back, and I notice that there’s a mirror above the bed on the ceiling.

Oh, shit!

I’ve only ever heard of things like this before, and I’ve never even watched porn like this. I don’t know the first thing about it. The idea of being bound and helpless while having sex sounds nauseating to me.

Will Slate be upset if he knows I found this room? I mean, we did have sex, but it wasn’t anything like this… He didn’t try to choke me or pull my hair, so maybe this is something he reserves for women he pays for, women who specialize in it and won’t freak out.

Unless he likes that too.

“God, shut up!” I shout out loud to my own brain.

I immediately regret it as my voice reverberates off the walls, not so much in the velvet room but out into the office. My stomach drops as I hear footsteps approaching the office. Do I hide? Is that stupid?

I’m so nervous that I can barely breathe. I’ve seen what Slate does to people, so what’s stopping him from hurting me like that? Overdosing me on synthetic LSD and leaving me in this room until my mind eats itself alive.

“Mia?”

Fuck.

“What are you doing in here?” Slate asks sternly from behind me.

I was stupid enough to even leave the door open. I trapped myself.

My heart is beating out of my chest, just like it was last night when the first shots were fired. If I keep putting my body through this kind of stress, I’ll probably die of old age at thirty-two or thirty-three years old.

“Are you going to answer me, bitch?” Slate growls as he strides toward me.

I’m ready to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just looking for something and I found all this. I wasn’t going to touch anything, I swear,” I lie.

Slate can sense that I’m not telling the truth, and his eyes narrow. “Say that again and look me in the eyes,” he demands. He approaches me until he has my back up against one of the carved bedposts, staring me down with fury that I haven’t ever had directed at me before.

I can’t look at him.

“That’s what the I thought,” he says under his breath.

I’m completely unable to move out of pure terror. “Looks like I need to teach you what happens when you invade someone else’s privacy. Too bad for you that nobody ever taught you that,” he says as he steps to the side toward a dresser that is built into the wall near the bed.