Chapter 2

Third Person's POV.

Cans of different coloured paints are scattered on the living room. Tons of magazine papers covered the whole living room floor. Different sizes of canvases and small to big brushes are also scattered. Music blasting on the wall and Shawn Mendes's "Show You" is currently played in. In the middle of the room, a Russian Painter is indian seated on the floor holding a brush and facing an almost done painted canvas wearing only stringed shorts and laced bra. Her long mint green straight hair was put in a messy bun, forehead creased, brows are knitted together while focusing on painting. Bright blue eyes are checking each details while her plump red lips are biting one small brush with her teeth.

In the middle of painting, her phone ranged. With her right hand still holding the brush, she picked up her phone not looking who the caller is, she dropped the brush from her mouth and answered half saying half screaming. "What do you want?" Music is still blasting all over her room. Bebe Rexha's "I'm A Mess" being the background music.

"Could you lower the fucking volume of your music a bit Adela?!" The other person on the call exclaimed.

Chuckling, she lowered the volume,  "Now what?"

"Campbell's getting out of hand this days, he's being more inhuman as time goes by!" The other person continued on ranting about President Campbell's— president of the United States— evil deeds .

It is not a secret to the people of how spiteful the president of the United States is. He's irrational, thinks about nothing but war, bloodshed, money and power. Rumours said that, Campbell's not suppose to win the election but he bought the votes for himself. And now, the citizens of the United States are suffering for this.

"We both know that you can't get out of this Mitch, this one's your job." She states making the person on the other line sigh.

"Yeah I know, I just wish that I can get laid by this hot bodyguards, but they won't even spare me a second glance everytime we walk past each other. "

The Russian Painter crinkled her nose in disgust. "You're such a pig" Mitch just laughed out loud at her.

"Still the savage Russian I see. I gotta go now, the asshole has another meeting with the Italians. See you soon honey" after that, she hanged up.

She was about to maximize the speaker's volume when she heard a faint click somewhere. It was so feeble that a normal pair of ears wouldn't be able to hear it. Putting aside her paint brushes, she decided to check it out. The faint click came from the window of the room beside her own.

She peaked through her own window. Though the only thing she saw was a tattooed hand closing the window.

"Looks like someone doesn't know where the door is."