Nikolai crouched for the second time and picked up the hitman’s braid in a hand. His hair was just as soft as it looked, he didn’t care for men but it was hard to deny that he had a pretty face.
He rubbed the braid between his fingers, deep in thought. Silvia couldn’t have been the one behind this, they had basic dealings just like every other important person in Haines.
It was possible that someone would anonymously go through Frequency to kill him, he held no grudge against Silvia because of that. She was just doing her job, but the hitman would have to bear the consequences of his failure.
His faraway gaze was dragged to the hitman’s parted lips, his lips were pale but round, at odds with the rest of his hard face.
Nikolai rose to his feet, he could just pull out a gun and kill off the hitman right then, or hand him over to his men so they could extract the truth out of him but his curiosity had been piqued.
Even after finding out that the hitman had connections with Frequency, he was still intrigued to properly meet the person who would choose to take a job that involved him.
He had also bumped into him twice in two days, not counting just a moment ago when he had been jumped with a knife. Very few things caught Nikolai’s interest so he wasn’t going to just throw away this interesting Beta.
He picked him up with a single hand, noting that despite the Beta being average height, he was really light, his head hanging limply.
He slung the hitman over his shoulder and made his way to his bedroom, tossing the hitman unceremoniously on the perfectly laid bed.
He opened the box and found it untouched, he doubted the assassin even knew what was in it. A dark light went off in Nikolai’s eyes as he looked into the box full of black leather and chains and then back at the Beta on the bed.
He got a cigar and lit it, white smoke filling the lavish room. He had been expecting a willing participant with his delivery and now there was no one to use it on.
Nikolai smoked the entire stick of cigar in his hand before he finally made a move. He kicked the box to the side and went over to the bed, his body moving on autopilot.
He had only gotten a short glimpse of the hitman’s hair down and around his face the last time he had seen him... In a move uncharacteristic of him, Nikolai picked up the braid and undid it.
There were soft waves in the satin black hair that billowed around that sleeping face. It made Nikolai frown, what did he intend to do with the hitman?
He didn’t have the urge to kill him, he didn’t even care about who had commissioned the job to kill him. He was bored enough to keep him for a while, and if the hitman proved uninteresting after he woke up, then he’d spill out his bloody brains right on his sheets.
Nikolai had no plans to stay there till the hitman roused, he could have men guarding him in a heartbeat but a little part of him wasn’t pleased by the idea of other people getting to see the assassin’s hair splayed out .
His dead eyes drifted to the box, the taste of cigar smoke on his tongue. Half an hour later, he was making his way down the stairs with an overcoat over his powerful shoulders, a cigar in hand.
He needed to make some arrangements, he liked to move quickly.
Angelo woke up slowly, he felt groggy like he was drunk, the room swimming in front of his eyes.
After a few minutes of enduring the room spin, he could finally articulate his thoughts. Angelo was genuinely surprised he was still alive, when his body had promptly lost all strength, he had been resigned to death then.
He closed his eyes and tried to do a mental survey of his body, there had been no one in his line of sight when he opened his eyes but that didn’t mean that he was all alone in the room.
Angelo frowned, his hands were restrained but something was odd. There was an unconventional strap around his neck, and his legs were tied separately.
Where did his shirt go? The absurdity of his situation made Angelo move despite his deeply ingrained survival techniques. It wasn’t like he was planning on surviving, Mafia King Nikolai wouldn’t give him that opportunity.
With some effort, he managed to sit up, feeling his loose hair against his bare upper body.
When he sat up, he realized everything that was wrong. Sitting up forced him to kneel because there were leather straps keeping his legs bent at the knees. His hands were behind his back, and in his kneeling position, the strap around his neck tightened.
Angelo was so furious his green eyes almost looked black in the warmly lit room. He would have preferred to be riddled with holes than to be tied up like a paid whore.
He had heard about Nikolai’s inclinations, it was common knowledge. Even paid whores avoided the Mafia King, unwilling to be put through the torture he dished out in the bedroom.
Angelo was stuck, this was an unlikely restraint. For the first time he really wanted to escape, he signed up for death, not whatever the fuck this kinky shit was.
Even though he had managed to sit up, the leather strap around his neck that connected to tight and sturdy straps around his wrists and above his elbows forced him into a slight arch and applied pressure against his neck.
Angelo swallowed, there was still anger in his pale green eyes but now it was mostly fear, a faint tremble going through his thin body.
Mafia King Nikolai wasn’t interested in men, this was just a torture tactic. He reassured himself with those thoughts, bracing himself for the return of the Mafia King.