THE RUSSIAN MAFIA'S ANGEL

Angel hissed loudly in the shower, as the water poured down on her.

The nerve of him to think that she wanted him to touch her, she thought.

She was very conscious about being touched. Mostly because she hated it.

Her body hated to be invaded, and she was grateful for that.

It only meant that prideful weirdos like Ares couldn't even so much as perceive her.

She scoffed, and rolled her eyes hard.

But right after, a thought of his body invaded her mind, and she paused scrubbing long enough to catch her breath.

She had never seen something like that. Sure she had heard about men sculpted by God's hand itself, but he couldn't be the design of one entity.

Perhaps, a host of god's came together, and—-

"Angel!" She bit her lips just before her thoughts could stray further.

"Yeah, you're doing too much now," she whispered to herself, and focused on bathing.

When she was done, she looked around in search of a towel.

There wasn't any in sight, causing her to grow worried.

She didn't want to wear the nightwear she had been wearing all along, but it was looking like she didn't have any other choice.

Although Ares had left the room before she entered the bathroom, she couldn't just walk into the room like that.

What if he came in, then in a bid to hide her nakedness, she slipped and fell on the ground?

She shuddered as that imagination formed in her head.

The pain from her toes returned, and she looked down at it.

"Really? You've been calm this whole time, and it took just one thought for you to start to hurt again?"

She shook her head, and sighed. "My life is a mess," she whispered.

Grabbing the nightwear, she wore it.

She took a deep breath after, said a little prayer, before walking out of the bathroom.

Thankfully, Ares was nowhere around when she walked into his room.

Sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her, she grabbed the shirt he had left her, and began to undress.

By the time she was done, she was putting on a shirt that stopped just below her thighs.

She had refused to wear the briefs he left her, because that was going too far.

How could she wear a man's brief? Wasn't that weird? She questioned in her head.

Shaking her head, she folded her nightclothes, and kept them in the laundry basket.

In that same second, the door opened, and a woman walked into the room.

Ares followed behind her, locking the door behind him.

The entrance made Angel turn around, and her eyes went straight to Ares.

His breath quickened when he saw what she looked like right after a shower.

Her hair was still wet, causing damp patches on the shirt he lended her.

Problem was that the damp patches were around her breast area, outlining her nipples.

They were small breasts, but from what he could see, her nipples were—-

His eyes went down, and he almost lost his balance.

He had seen the brief he left her on the bed, which told him she hadn't bothered to wear it.

It would only mean she was stark naked underneath the shirt.

"Oh shit," he thought in his head.

In Angel's mind, she was a little disappointed he had decided to go clothed.

His body was art, and it wasn't wrong to celebrate art.

"Sure, that's the reason for your disappointment," a rebellious voice in her head said.

"Oh shut up!"

"What?"

She looked up, and her eyes bulged as she realized she had said that out loud.

"Nothing." She pursed her lips, and shook her head vigorously.

"Natalia, leave us," Ares said.

The woman who appeared friendlier than the other kitchen women she had encountered, bowed, and walked out of the room.

Once more, she was left alone with Ares, who looked like he wanted to say something.

"It's time to eat," he said, and the breath she was holding let loose.

"Really? That was it?" She thought.

"I'm not hungry," she replied.

"I didn't ask," he said.

"But—"

"I didn't ask," he stopped her right before she could make any more excuses. "As long as you're under my roof, you will eat," he said.

"I don't—"

He walked up to her purposefully, and her heart began to pound against her chest.

Once more, she looked for an escape route, but it was either the bed or nothing.

He stopped in front of her, eyeing her gently.

"You're not going to starve to death before you can take me to my diamonds. If that's your plan, then please be certain that it won't work," he warned.

"I'm not trying to die," she said, appalled by his accusation.

"Good, now go sit at the table, and eat."

"I'm not your lapdog!" She replied defiantly.

"I didn't say you were, but don't tempt me. You could become one."

"You don't scare me," she said, but in her ears, her words rang as a lie. He simply terrified her.

"Oh yeah? We'll see about that."

Before she could so much as breath, he grabbed a hold of her, and flung her across his shoulders like she weighed nothing.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" She screamed.

He ignored her, and instead, carried her to the table.

Finally, he dropped her on the seat, then straightened up.

"You're an insufferable monster, who gets high on the thought of bullying women!" She threw at him.

Ignoring her again, he opened the covered plates, hoping that the aroma from the food would convince her to just shut up, and eat.

"Here, eat this," he said.

She turned to the food, eyeing it carefully.

"What is this?" She asked, having never seen food like that before.

"Try it, and find out," he said, wondering if the aroma was working.

Angel couldn't deny that the food, and its plating looked inviting. She just couldn't bring herself to eat.

"I ca—"

"You can't eat, or you don't want to? Do you have a bad experience with food that turned you this way?"

He saw a flicker of memory in her eyes, but it was gone before he could fully grasp it.

"No, I just—"

"Fine, I'll go first," he said, as a thought formed in his head.

She looked up at him, as he picked a spoon, and scooped some food into it.

Dipping it into his mouth, he chewed.

He did that for all of the food there, before straightening up.

"I'm going out," he said, and before she could get a word out, or recover from the shock of what he had just done, he was out of the door.