4

                                    

                                          
I scrambled out of the car as soon as it rolled to a stop, desperate to put some distance between me and Logan. Being confined in such a small space with his large stature was suffocating and had my heart was hammering wildly in my chest. The house looked even more intimidating when I stood before it and every wall was lined with armed guards with guns tucked into their belts. 
I turned back to look at the huge gates that has sealed me inside Logan's property. They were impenetrable, standing at least twenty-five feet tall. The cold wind suddenly howled through the iron bars, rattling them. The sky was the same grey as the mansion behind me and I shivered, the atmosphere becoming ominous.
"Let's go," Logan growled in my ear, his hand curling around my arm. He tugged me towards my new home, striding so quickly I struggled to keep up. I attempted a few times to shake myself free from his tight grip but he shot me a dark glare that had my muscles freezing.
"Good evening, sir," one of the men outside the main entrance greeted, a forced smile on his face. He seemed to be the only man here that didn't have a stone cold, emotionless expression that matched Logans.
I noticed Logan tense him and grind his teeth before he nodded in response. The soldier opened the door for us and a group of men from outside followed us in. Logan finally released my arm when the doors closed behind us and I stumbled, my jaw dropped as I studied the interior of the house. The floors were marbles, the ceilings high and decorated in gold leaf. A huge staircase swept from the top floor down to the foyer, a few feet from where I now stood, made from the same marble flooring. Above my head, a sparkling chandelier hung, catching the small slices of sunlight burning through the clouds outside. 
There were just as many guards inside as there were out and they all stood rigid and stoic, arms crossed and backs straight. They were intimidating to say the least and I made sure not to look any of them directly in the eye as I scanned the room. There were no photos on the walls or plants decorating the surfaces, everything was plain, grey and sleek.
Logan had apparently grown impatient from my gawking because I felt his hand press against the small of my back before marching towards the stairs. The feeling of his hand burned my skin despite my thick jumper and I forced myself not to flinch. 
He guided me up the stairs and I continued to assess his home. Dark oak doors lined the hallways and in front of each stood yet another guards. The stairs continued to curve upwards to the second floor of the house but we walked past them and down a dimly lit hallway with oak arches every few metres until we stopped outside a door. 
Logan shoved the door open with his free hand and forced me inside. The room was large and a queen-sized bed stood in the centre with two small, dark oak bedside tables either side. There were small lamps on each table and a narrow window above the bed. On the right-hand side of the room was a matching oak dresser, wardrobe and mirror and on the left was a closed door. 
"This is your room," Logan explained. "Don't try and jump, even if you survive the drop, my guards will shoot you in the head."
I frowned and turned to him. "Thanks for the warning," I muttered.
He simply nodded; his dark eyes narrowed. "Your things will be delivered in the morning." He pulled off his cufflinks and slipped them into his pocket and rolling up his sleeves. My eyes landed on the dark tattoos swirling up his forearms as he folded them across his chest, causing the muscles to flex. 
I dragged my eyes away and focused on his eyes instead. "I'm working this evening," I told him, "I need my work clothes."
He shook his head and leant backwards against the door. "No, you aren't. You won't be working anymore."
My eyes widened and I felt my nails dig into my palms at my sides. "Excuse me?" 
"You aren't going to work," he repeated, his eyes narrowed in veiled amusement as he looked me up and down. 
"Why the hell not?" I snapped. 
He scoffed. "Because this isn't some fucking holiday home for you! You are here as a prisoner which means you don't leave this house, not for work, not for college, not to see your friends or your family."
"That's not fair!" I yelled, shaking my head. "I didn't do anything to you!"
"I don't have to be fair. You belong to me now, so do as you're told and be grateful you aren't in the cells," he barked before turning to leave, slamming the door behind him. 
I collapsed onto the bed, running my hands through my hair and holding myself back from tearing it out. I was so angry. Not only had I been dragged into the life I wanted nothing to do with, I was trapped in the home of a deadly mafia leader with absolutely no escape. 
What was worse was that my sister was trapped in the house with my bitch of a step-mother and without me there to take the brunt of her anger, she would be her new favourite victim. 
I curled myself up into a ball and buried my face in my pillows, drowning in all of my emotions and allowing myself to cry for a while. I cry for myself and I cry for my sister and father. I'd never been separated from them. Not ever and it had only been an hour or so but I missed them already.
After a while of wallowing in self-pity, I forced myself to get up and tried to the door on the left side of the room. I was relieved to find a bathroom with a large jacuzzi bath and waterfall shower that I decided I would test out before going to sleep tonight. 
But before that, I needed food. I hadn't even been allowed to finish my dinner before I was dragged from my home. I moved to the bedroom door, grateful to find it unlocked. However, when I pulled it open, I bumped straight into a hard body standing outside. "Ow!" I grumbled as the tall man turned to me.
"Sorry Miss," he uttered, looking down at me with a hint of sympathy.
"I was just going to get some food," I muttered, rubbing my nose, "where's the kitchen?"
"I'll show you," he offered softly. I couldn't help but notice as he withdrew his gun from his holster before leading me through the hallways. I kept my eyes trained on the weapon in his hand, cautious to turn my back to him in case he decided to use it. We travelled back down the hallway and down the stairs before entering the room off to the right of the foyer.
The kitchen was large, with granite surfaces and a large island in the centre. The fridge was floor to ceiling and when I pulled the door open, it was filled to the brim with food. I closed it again and started opening cupboards until I found bags of chips. I grabbed a couple, turning back to the tall soldier who lingered in the doorway. "Thanks," I muttered.
He simply nodded and turned to leave. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I followed him back to my own personal prison.