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Within a few minutes, having changed my trousers for a short house dress, I, step by step, went upstairs. Exhausted by nervous anticipation, not understanding myself and tired, I wanted comfort. And it’s not about my so-called spoiled. It’s just… Everything was going wrong. Not at all like I imagined.

Escaping from Italy with Ivan, I didn’t dream at all about a matchbox-like shower in the man’s house, from whose touch the devil knows what was happening to me! Instead of becoming the mistress of a mansion in the suburbs of Moscow, I became a prisoner of a dangerous man who looked like a predatory beast, capable of… What exactly Max is capable of, I never figured out. But I remember the lesson taught to me. Yes… a burgundy room with lace trim, music pouring from invisible speakers, and his gaze burning me. His hands…

Having passed along the corridor of the second floor, I saw that the door of one of the rooms was open and went inside. I immediately realized that this was Max’s bedroom. Bright room, designed in beige and brown tones. Nothing superfluous, just a poster of an old gangster movie hidden under glass on the wall. I saw the same ones in the casino when the guard led me through the inner corridors. A wide bed with carved wooden posts, a small asymmetrical carpet on the floor. Judging by the atmosphere of the house, the owner liked comfort and functionality. Nothing superfluous, no design bells and whistles.