The Ruthless Billionaire's Pawn

Celeste's POV

The first bullet by chance misses the target, which is my head, by an inch.

I didn't nurse the thought of stopping to run.

My heels were aggressive as they struck the marble floor in the manner of a war drum, each step producing an echo, and then opening up in the corridor of my own pathetic office building. It was once my safe place, but now, it's more of a death wish.

Another shot ensues again, and this time, shattering the window glass which was right beside me. A sharp pain hit my left arm, and it was totally unbearable. Then I took the courage to glance down, and there was blood.

Shit, what a mess.

How did I miss taking cover? I've been hit.

But this can’t stop me from running. If I ever nurse such an idea, that means I'm ready to die.

I found my way as I burst into the stairwell, enduring and ignoring the scrunching pain as I took it upon myself to descend two, three steps at a time, even with the pain. My breath became unsteady and hitched, my heartbeat aggressively slamming against my ribs. The only thought running in my shattered head is who is behind this act?

Who could gather the courage, has the audacity to attack me brutally in broad daylight?

How powerful could this person be to have succeeded in infiltrating my security?

Who saw my existence as pollution and wanted me gone and every trace of me erased so badly enough to risk this?

Of course, I had horrible names on the list, but then again, who could be cunning and resourceful enough to have the power to pull this off?

There's only one person, Killian Voss.

The selfish ever lived ruthless billionaire. The only man in existence who did not labor to build his empire, but rather did that on blood and secrets. He's my greatest rival, the only opponent that gives me dangerous vibes, the one. If not for this attack, I would have been just inches away from toppling.

Had I, in my quest for dominance, pushed him beyond expected?

Just having the thoughts alone aroused a frightening wave of rage in me. If this has a connection to Killian, I would prefer to bleed to death than crawl shamelessly to him for help.

I immediately shoveled open the entrance to the emergency exit and found myself stumbling into the underground parking lot. The air underneath wasn't fresh, but very thick and smelled of gasoline and burning rubber.

And unmistakably the scent of blood.

That was my driver’s blood.

His body was left slumped against my car, and between his eyes was a single bullet that didn't miss its target.

Just observing the scene, a sharp breath suddenly leaves me. My stomach clenches in response to the traumatizing light. This can't just be a warning to stay off.

This is definitely a clear message.

Spinning around, I decided to thoroughly scan the shadows. But I’m alone, at least for now. And I'm sure it won't take long and my attackers will trace me to my location.

I desperately needed a way out, at least for now, before gathering my thoughts together.

And as I was still thinking, my phone buzzed.

And on the screen a blocked number.

I don't need to be told as I already know who could pull such a display.

I hesitated, refusing to do the first thing that flashed my mind immediately when his call came in. I would prefer to set myself ablaze than open my mouth and ask him for help.

But what are the options remaining for me?

They were all dwindling.

I finally decided to answer. “Prove me wrong that this isn’t one of your doing.”

A low chuckle escaped from the other end, coming out smoothly, but at the same time amused. “If I ever wanted you out of the way, sweetheart, I won't spare a second auguring with you. You were already six feet down.”

I grit my teeth trying to hold my anger. What a bastard!

I pressed my hand very hard against my bleeding arm, doing all I could to reduce the bleeding. “Then you definitely have an idea of who’s behind this.”

There followed a pause.

I listened closely only to hear the clink of ice against a glass. Then it occurred to me that he was drinking. Totally relaxed and unbothered while I'm struggling for my life.

“They shouldn't bother you any longer,” he blurted out.

I arched a brow in confusion. “What the hell am I supposed to get from your statement, what does that imply?”

“Ensure not to move, stay where you are.”

Without another word, or waiting for my reply, the call cuts abruptly.

I stared at my phone in confusion, rage already taking over my being as it vibrated beneath my skin. Should I obey and stay where I am? Does this paint the picture of a damsel in distress, where he would surface and play her hero?

I was still furious and about to call him back when my attention was captured by the low hum of an approaching engine.

Not long later, a black Maserati found its way into the parking lot, a perfect description of a predator spying on its prey.

The back door immediately swung open before it could park well.

There was no trace of a driver.

But I could feel his presence.

He was probably waiting.

Or maybe watching closely.

I didn't hesitate after that. I simply slide in, making sure to get a firm grip on my wounded arm as the door to the Maserati shuts behind me.

And just as I had predicted, he was right there.

No other but Killian Voss.

He was comfortably seated across me, and even crossed legs, chilling with a glass of whiskey in hand. From his impeccable dressing, one could perceive an effortless power. The devil was well-dressed in a three-piece suit.

His icy bright blue eyes landed on my injury. “You’re seriously bleeding.”

I was not surprised. Instead, I let out a bitter laugh. “Brilliant observation you've got there.”

He smirks dangerously, and sets his glass of wine down, he says. “Whoever had the guts to do this is already dead.”

I stiffened in shock. “You already killed them?”

He leaned forward, very close that the air thickened with a dark energy. “I didn't waste time in handling my little investments.”

My breath hitched, and my stomach knotted. What investments are you talking about?

His gaze roamed over me, before settling on my face, but still unreadable. You obviously need tight protection. I’m willing to protect you, so I'm offering you security.”

I exhaled quietly before letting out a sharp laugh. “And exactly would you demand in return for your services?”

On hearing that, his smirk widened.

That’s when it became clear to me.

He allowed me to ask for formality’s sake, he had already decided what he wanted.

I quickly braced myself for the worst. “Name whatever you think should be your price.”

He studies me carefully, letting the moment drag as his way of getting me to squirm. Then, just when I thought he wasn't going to say anything again, he leaned in, taking me by surprise.

“I won't be giving you the liberty of choosing from many options, you have only one choice, Celeste.” His fingers romantically brushed against my wounded arm. I jumped out of my skin immediately his hand touched my bare skin. “Marry me, Celeste.”

The words sounded very strange, slamming into me unexpectedly like a freight train.

I blinked in shock. “What did you say?”

His grip on my arms tightened, it was done intentionally enough to make me feel it. “Marry me, Celeste or die suddenly trying to fight me.”

The airway is blocked, and the trapped ones vanish from my lungs.

I searched his face hoping to see a sign that he was joking, just a trace of humor.

But there was none, nothing of that nature.

His gaze was unwavering, unbothered and cold.

He was dead serious, he wasn't making jokes to cheer me up.

My heart pounded restlessly, threatening to jump out of my chest.“You’re truly insane.”

He released me suddenly, took another slow sip of whiskey, but in a weird manner. Perhaps there might be an oath of truth. But I can bet you don’t possess the luxury of saying no to my proposal.”

I clenched my fists in fury. “Why if I may ask?”

He tilted his head in a mocking manner, as if my stupidity amused him. Because, sweetheart, it is obvious that I own every route capable of keeping you safe, and it's high time you came to terms with that. I could, from the comfort of my house, control every ally you could turn to. And the most important of them all...” He leans in again, his breath washing over my neck as he whispers.

“You don't own yourself anymore, you belong to me now.”

The car abruptly stops.

The door spontaneously unlocks.

Killian gives a lazy gesture. “If you would stupidly take your chances out in the open, then I would be happy to have you as my guest.”

I glanced outside, searching for any sign of danger. And behold, there stood a figure in the shadows. Patiently waiting.

This I noticed wasn't one of Killian’s men.

It was probably one of theirs.

I swallowed an invisible lump.

Stay safe in this car, and that would be signing my soul away to the devil.

Step out to fight for freedom, and I die in a blink.

The dangerous Game of Thrones had just begun.