SCARLET

I feel someone sitting down at the edge of my bed, and I jolt awake. I am, in fact, not in my bed. I'm on Russian premises, in the maid's room where Theo laid me down last night.

Sighing I look at the foot of the bed to find two familiar-looking faces, Silva and Mary. They both stand up with an embarrassed look. "You are awake." I pretend to be in shock, I should be shocked. "Who are you?!"

"Hi, I'm Silva, and this is Mary. We sleep on the beds next to you," Silva tells me with a soft smile. I look around me to find rows of beds, some messy, some made. "Where am I?!"

I return her smile with a confused, scaredy-cat look. I have to pull this off, and I have to get used to the name Kiara. "Oh, you're umm," they both share a look. They're either scared to tell me I'm in Russian quarters, or they don't know where they are.

"You're in a mansion owned by some Russians," Mary finally says, and Silva gives her a worried glare. "Why?" I ask, masking a confused expression on my face.

Neither of them responds to my question, as Silva looks down at the paper she's holding and Mary twists the ends of her braided chocolate hair, looking anywhere but my face. "What is going on?!"

"This is umm, for you. Listen, we don't have much time, but you were kidnapped and now you're going to work as a maid for them," they say after a long, uncomfortable silence as they hand me a maid dress identical to the one I have at home. "I was kidnapped to work as a maid?!"

"You have to get ready before Anya comes, or we won't have lunch. There's a changing room back there, and this is your schedule. The others already started half an hour ago, we thought you would want someone to...you know, be there when you wake up." Silva says, coming closer and handing me two papers, one a printed schedule and the other a detailed map of the premises.

"Who's Anya?" I know who Anya is. She is the scary old Russian lady in charge of all the maids, and I might as well be afraid of her without even meeting her. Before I have time to get up or fan being scared, the door slams open and Anya strides in. Oh shit.

"You are still here." She has a heavy Russian accent, and that was not a question. "Get the new one ready, or I send all to dungeons!" she says, pressing too hard on the vowels in dungeon. And now said dungeons are on my list of places I should sneak into during my little stay.

She walks out, shutting the door after her. I can see the fear in the girls' eyes as they gather my maid's dress and my papers and give them to me, leading me to the dressing room. "Meet us in the kitchen after you are done," Silva says, giving me one of her soft smiles that I gathered are to comfort me.

I lock the door to the dressing room and sigh, wiping all the worry from my face as a grin spreads out on my lips. I do a little victory dance now that the hard part of the mission is done. All I have to do now is pretend to be a helpless girl and switch my schedule with whoever has a task in the important offices.

⇔

Pushing the door to what I think is the kitchen, I'm hit with a slap of heat right in the face, and two people in white aprons walk dangerously close to my face with burning hot liquids. If only I wasn't on a mission right now.

I make my way past the flaming hot sauces and head to a familiar braided head who's wiping the floors. "Oh, you're here. Silva!" she calls out, and Silva appears behind me. "Come on, follow me."

I do as I'm told till we get back to the door and the flaming hot liquids, and we start circling the kitchen. "Okay, so I'll go over the rules with you and introduce you to everyone. I know it must be hard, but it gets better when you busy yourself," she says as we go in the direction of the chefs.

"Never leave our room after 9 p.m. unless you were called to get food for someone. And no matter what, try not to be alone in a room with the men. Always bow your head, don't look them in the eye, and don't talk directly to them, okay?" I nod as we pass by the same two chefs who almost burned my face off.

"You never told me your name," she tells me, giving me a genuine smile for the first time since I met her. "Kiara," she nods a few times, then continues walking, motioning for me to follow.

"That guy with the red hair? Don't come near him, temper as hot as his hair. The sous chef doesn't speak English, but he can understand it, so be careful with gossip around him," she chuckles, "and I'm guessing you already met Anya; if you break the rules, you're off to the dungeons, and if you're late, then no lunch. And the rest of us are pretty friendly. Raj shares most of your tasks for this week, so he can show you around."

I'm guessing Raj is Rajah, the Indian 20-year-old guy who works for the Russians because he needs the money, or at least that's what Theo told me. She walks us to a group of people sitting at the very end of the kitchen.

"I'm with the newbie?!" Rajah groans, rolling his eyes. I involuntarily raise an eyebrow, then lower it fast, but probably not fast enough for him not to notice.

"My name is Kiara," I'm not letting this Rajah get on my nerves and ruin my disguise, so I give him a small smile, which he responds to with a shrug, saying, "Whatever you want, princess."

Princess?! I take a deep breath. I will not let a man ruin my mission. I will not let a man ruin my mission. I plaster on the same soft smile I've had on since the start of this mission and nod his way. The others introduce themselves, but I don't pay them much mind. I already know more about them than they'd ever tell me.

"I think you're all set up when it comes to basics. We both have to go now, but we'll see each other at lunch," Silva says, walking away.

"Let's get to work, princess," Rajah says, throwing me an apron. looks like this won't be as easy as I thought.

⇔

I wipe my tears away with the sleeve of my dress. This is definitely not as easy as I imagined, nor as easy as killing a bunch of motherfuckers. I already hate this mission, someone get me out of here.

"Stop spreading your germs everywhere!" Rajah sniffs from beside me, pushing his curls away from his face with his forearm. "You're talking as if you're any better."

"You know? At least you started with the worst task. Nah actually, there's still the bathroom plungin-"

"Stop!" The breakfast I didn't eat threatens to magically appear in my stomach, and get out the wrong way.

"Disgusted by a little poop, princess?"

"Please," I say, backing a few steps away from him, "I'm seriously going to puke."

Rajah stays still for a second, frowning, he puts his hand on his mouth, his eyes widening as he runs to the trash can. The frick? He tells me about freaking poop, and he pukes.

"This is your fault," he says, looking at me with disgust after washing his hands and drying them on his apron.

"How?! You're the one who-"

"You mentioned puke, I imagined puke, I puked. Your fault."

I roll my eyes and finish chopping my last onion. We diced over a dozen onions each. How in hell do these people not have bad breath after eating all that onion? I wash my face along with my hands in the kitchen sink, then grab my task paper from my dress pocket. That's the only good thing about this mission. My dress has pockets.

My next task is 'waiter'? What in the world is that supposed to mean? I'm a maid, a chef, and a waitress now. Next up they'll make me a personal pole dancer. I roll my eyes and turn to Rajah. "Waiter?"

"You too?" I sigh. I guess I'm stuck with a sarcastic asshole for the whole afternoon. "Take off your apron, this is the fun part."

Fun? I don't see fun. I see double, and I want to sleep. Taking off my apron and hanging it, I follow Rajah to where he's skipping excitedly. And wherever he's going turns out to be a closet. Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Come on, we have to change in," he glances at a clock. "6 minutes. Get going, quick!" He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Nice try, but I'm not getting undressed while you're here."

"You think I want to-" he groans loudly, like extra loud. Rajah, stop being a damn child. "Well, if you're in such a hurry, you can shamelessly dress in the hallway."

He stops mid-putting the new clean button-up on and narrows his eyes at me. "Fine," he says with way too much pride. Huffing, he bobs his head in mockery of what I've said as he grabs another pair of black dress pants off the hanger and walks out.

I roll my eyes as I try to find a dress that might fit me. I end up with one that fits me perfectly at the top but barely even covers my thighs. These dresses are much better quality than the maid's one, all black with sleeves, a square neckline, and a flowy skirt.

After I'm done, I open the door to see Rajah standing fully clothed. He actually looks like a man when he's wearing proper clothes. With his curly brown hair and his tall figure, if only not for the mocking eye rolls he keeps giving me.

"You clean up well,'' I say, purposefully swerving my head so my hair flips back as I walk past him. "Could say the same about you," he says, catching up to me in no time.

"Oh shit, we're 2 minutes late. We have to run," he skips forward a few steps, but I keep my pace as I ask, "Why?" He walks in reverse, then turns to me.

"Have you ever seen Russians playing without vodka? No? Well, it's a bloodbath. So, run." He grabs my arm and runs to the kitchen. He would almost forcibly make me run with him if I wasn't already fastening my pace. Russians playing? The sun hasn't even set yet. Wait, has it?

We reach the kitchen, and he doesn't let go as he swivels from the kitchen door into a small hallway that leads to a liquor room. The walls are lined with the finest wines, yet Rajah reaches down into a small cupboard and grabs three bottles of vodka, putting them on the counter and grabbing two trays for us. I put the shot glasses on the trays, and he pours in the clear liquid, filling them a millimeter short of the brim.

"Let's go," he carries his tray and motions for me to follow. I roll my eyes, grabbing my tray, and getting out the door.

"We get in. Each of us stands in a corner, and when one of them motions for us to come we walk to opposite sides of the table and offer-"

"I know how to serve drinks, Rajah. Open the door."

He pushes the door open with his hip and lets me get in first. One thing I did not expect to see today was Ivan aiming a gun at his own head. If he wanted a bullet through his skull, he could've just said so.

I walk inside and stand in the corner opposite Rajah as he gives me a reassuring nod. Once I'm settled in place, I rest my elbow on my hip, balancing the tray of shots, and look around.

Ivan, Nikandr, and a bunch of Russians are sitting at a table in the middle playing Russian roulette. One of the most dangerous and stupidest games ever played by mankind.

I look around a bit more till I spot Theo standing with someone else in his all-black statement suit, a matching vest, and his black frame glasses. He glances at me then looks away quickly, like I'm a sight sore for the eyes.

I hear a clicking sound, and my eyes instantly connect with Rajah's. He nods at the table, and we both move in unison, lowering the tray by each one as we both finish our sides of the table. Not even one of them glances at my face as they grab their drinks, which I greatly appreciate.

There's an empty chair on my side of the table, and blood spatter on the wall. I can only imagine what happened to whoever was sitting here just moments before we came into the room. A few maids were standing outside with the cloths, ready to wipe any 'accident' that occurred while they recklessly played with their lives.

We serve another round of drinks to those standing. Matheo wasn't on my side of the room, so I wasn't able to communicate with him at all tonight.

We're called again for another round, and just as I'm about to back away from the table, I feel a hand snake around my waist. If I wasn't on a mission right now, I would've had him in a chokehold, but damn the universe loves him.

"Malyshka, nice seeing you here," he says with a smirk. I can tell he's not drunk enough to be blabbering, although he drank way more than half a bottle of straight-up vodka. "Although I must admit, I liked your red dress better."

I don't answer him, that's not a rule I'm willing to break, but I do look him in the eye. That's the only response those like him deserve, other than rotting.

"Why don't you sit with me, Malyshka? We have an empty seat open." This time, I hesitate. I can't refuse, but I can't sit down either. I'm not letting him fucking kill me.

I raise my eyes from his, and they instantly connect to Theo's. Who schools his expression well, but I can see how rigid his shoulders look and how tight he's clenching his jaw. Now you're looking at me?

Ivan's hand puts pressure on my hip and forces me to sit down on the empty chair beside him as he grabs the gun. Oh fuck. "There are two bullets in this precious gun. Do you know how to play?"

I nod slowly as my fingers dip into the fabric of the seat. I can have half his men dead at my feet in less than a second, and I can have his own gun aimed at his head in less than that, but I can't.

"So tell me, Malyshka. Spin?" Spin? No, there are two bullets in the gun. If they're adjacent, then I'm truly fucked. With only a fifty percent chance the bullet won't pierce through my skull, and the same goes if there's an empty chamber between them. All that I know is that Ivan didn't shoot himself dead in the last round. Which means the bullet might be next.

"How did you place the bullets?" I ask. I shouldn't have asked, I shouldn't even talk directly to the 'men'. But there's no other option if I want to survive this bullshit.

Ivan looks at me like I just spoke gibberish, then nods to one of the guests sitting at the table. He must be the one who placed them. "They're stuck to each other, waiting to-"

The rest of his shit poetic words are drowned out by my thoughts. They're right next to each other. Which means if I spin, I have a sixty percent chance of getting shot. But if I don't, since Ivan isn't dead, then I know there's only one chamber out of the six that has the bullet right after, and he just used one of them. So now I have a four out of five chance of surviving this.

"Shoot," my voice echoes throughout the room. It's only now I notice that the entire room went silent as they all watched the scared maid get dragged into a game of Russian roulette. And I can bet they're waiting to see my brains get blown.

He doesn't wait a minute longer than necessary as he raises his arm to aim at my skull. I close my eyes and stay still as he aims at my head and pulls the trigger.

⇔

I place the last glass on the tray and hand it to Gabriel, who carries it out without a word. Taking a deep breath, I try to organize my thoughts of everything that happened today, or mostly what happened an hour ago.

I'm never uncomfortable with a gun aimed at my head. I know I can and will always survive, but today? I was helpless. If my calculations were somehow wrong, just one fucking mistake—I would've been dead. Right then and there.

Those types of situations on missions make me even more disgusted by the world. By the things that call themselves humans. It makes my stomach turn at how inhuman a person can be. Little does Ivan know, if I'm ever on a mission to kill him, I wouldn't bat an eyelash as my bullets crack his skull.

The door to the liquor room opens, and... Zephyr walks in?

"What are you–"

"Get him out of there, and do it quickly."

"Get...Matheo?" I ask, confused. What in the pentagon did Theo do?!

"He's drunk. Got offered too many drinks and played a few rounds of poker–"

"Alright, alright. I'll take care of it." He walks out, closing the door.

I move quickly, taking out an extra tray without waiting for either Rajah or Gabriel to come in. I put half of the normal rounds of shot glasses and pour vodka in each of them, taking the tray and walking straight out into the lion's den.

Rajah looks at me confused, and I pretend that I forgot Gabriel was here. Call it a rookie mistake for the maid, but it's a great plan for the agent.

I walk into a third corner, looking for Theo. It doesn't take me long before I see him standing with Zephyr, looking very drunk. Zephyr spots me and motions for me to come serve them drinks. I round up a few others before I get to them, finishing the drinks on my tray.

"What kind of drink would you prefer, sir?" I ask Theo, hoping he'll catch up on what I'm trying to say, but he doesn't. The look of confusion on his face tells me that, at least. "You're not dead."

"I–" No shit, Sherlock, "no, sir. I'm alive and well." He gives me a smile, flashing me a dimple, and I have to admit. Drunk Matheo is a lot cuter than sober Matheo.

"Would you like to see the drink selection?" I ask, motioning at the door with my eyes. "Yes, yes he would," Zephyr says, nudging Theo with his arm.

He leads the way as we get out of the room, then slows down to walk at my pace. Instead of taking a right turn at the liquor room, I walk straight. Passing by the kitchen door into a long hallway, then up a flight of stairs to Theo's room.

"This is my room," He informs me as I take the key out of his suit jacket and unlock the door, pulling him in by his sleeve and closing it. "Yeah, where did you think I'd take your drunk ass?"

"Yours," he says with a nonchalant shrug and a lopsided grin. I roll my eyes and push him back until he's sitting on the bed. I fill up a glass of water and hand it to him. "Drink this."

He chugs the water like he just gulped a mouthful of the sea. "You almost got shot," he says, putting the glass on the bedside table and getting up from the bed, walking towards me. "Yeah, I was there." I walk to the foot of the bed to close the curtains, but his hand on my arm stops me. What in the world are you doing, Theo?

"I wouldn't have let him shoot you. I had my hand on my gun the entire time...I can't let him shoot my scarlet." His face is inches away from mine. His breath is warm on my skin and his chest heaving against mine. My cheeks involuntarily heat up at his words. "You're drunk."

Pushing at his chest, I walk over and untuck the blankets from under the mattress, pour another glass of water, and put it on the bedside table. I turned around, and for some reason, I was not at all prepared to be faced with a shirtless, sweating Matheo. Shit.

His chest is illuminated by the soft glow of the room's lights. He's sculpted to literal perfection. Every muscle in his chest ripples as he shrugs off his shirt and throws it to God knows where. The allure of this man is fucking intoxicating, and I'm not sure how long I can hold myself before caving into the desire. What are you doing to me, Theo?

"Enjoying the view?" My eyes connect to his, and my cheeks instantly flush at the full sight of him, shirtless, messy hair, and that addicting smile. "You're a shameless flirt,'' I say, knowing full well that I'm a shameless starer, but in my defense, he's the one who took his shirt off in the first place.

"Only for you," he's drunk, Scarlet, very very drunk. "Did you get my gift?"

"What gift?" I ask. What else his this drunk ass do?

"The clothes I put under your bed?"

"No, but I will go see them after I'm done you you. Now, get in," I nod to the bed, and he takes slow steps closer.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, getting on the bed and under the covers. He rests his head on his forearm and openly stares at my face with a smile dancing in his eyes. I can feel my heart skip a beat as I say, "Sleep."

He hums in response, he's looking at me the way he looked at the paintings on his wall. His eyes unwavering from my face. I only allow myself three seconds before closing the lights and getting out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Authors note:

Hey loves!! Thank you all so so much for 1.8k reads<33

It is extremely MINDBLOWING that what was one day a small idea of a book i had with my bestfriend is now a WHOLE BOOK!! *mindblown*

Although i have some questions for you guys if you don't mind :)

-What are your theories about what will happen next?

-What are you favourite scenes so far?

-Do you think adeline will solve the case? if yes, how?

-Who are your ships? (go all out on this one)