Chapter 4

Hannah's gaze lingered on Anastasia as she glided down the rooftop, her elegance commanding attention. Jamie's eyes followed, his expression unreadable as he swirled his wine glass.

"Beautiful," Hannah murmured, her voice tinged with admiration.

Jamie's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "Pathetic," he countered, his tone laced with disdain. "I expected more."

Hannah's smile faltered, her eyes darting to Jamie's hardened face. "Well, it's fortunate she's not the one getting married today," she ventured, her tone light.

Jamie's glare pinned her, making her heart skip a beat. "We're discussing my wife, Mother," he hissed, his voice low and even. "Whatever killed Williams enthusiasm saved him. He would have been choosing his casket colour already,"

As Anastasia exited the room, Jamie's gaze lingered on her, his eyes calculating. He set his glass down, his movements precise, and strode after her.

A blonde intercepted him, her slender figure and seductive smile a stark contrast to Anastasia's elegance. "Mr.—"

"Not tonight," Jamie cut her off, his voice crisp, his eyes fixed on the door.

The blonde's gaze followed his, her smile warming. Jamie ignored her, his long strides eating up the distance to the door.

Jamie let out a low grunt when he saw Anastasia entering an Uber. He stood there and watched her zoom off.

…..

Anastasia frowned when the Uber driver took another turn. "That_"

The user driver cut her off. "Mr. MacQuoid asked me to take you straight to his house." He glanced at her through the rearview mirror and fixed his eyes on the road again.

Anastasia blinked in confusion. "Mr. MacQuoid?" She chuckled nervously. "This should be a mistake. Do you work for him?"

"I do work for him." He started calmly. "Not to push in_"

"Take me home. This is a mistake. I'm not supposed to meet with him until tomorrow."

The driver ignored her and continued with the route he was taking. Anastasia froze. Her body tensed up, and she charged towards the driver.

The driver dodged her attack and used his elbow to hit her.

"I am not kidnapping you." The driver yelled as he took quick control of the car again. "Check the back of the card he gave to you."

Anastasia searched her purse. She brought out the card Jamje gave to her. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw what was written there.

You'll live with me from now on.

Anastasia scoffed in disdain. "Take me home, or I call 911,"

Her warning fell on deaf ears because the man continued driving. Anastasia drew in a deep breath and calmed down.

Her mother has powers. All she had to do was to call her mother, and the whole nonsense would be over. She expected Jamie MacQuoid to be a respectful figure, not someone who kidnaps women.

Taking her phone out, Anastasia's eyes watered. Her battery was dead and before her, they were approaching an isolated venue.

Her heart thumped harder in her chest. She doesn't want to die tonight, but if something goes off, she won't mind fighting with him until they both die in a car accident.

Anastasia's mind raced as the driver turned onto a winding road, the trees growing denser and the darkness deepening.

With a surge of adrenaline, she lunged at the driver again, this time aiming for the wheel. The driver swore, struggling to maintain control as the car swerved.

Seizing the moment, Anastasia grabbed the door handle and flung herself out of the moving vehicle. She landed hard on the gravel shoulder, her breath knocked out of her.

As she struggled to her feet, the driver skidded to a stop and leapt out, his eyes blazing with anger. "You crazy woman!" he cursed, advancing on her.

His life currently depends on her. What was she doing trying to kill herself?

Anastasia stood frozen, her heart racing, as the driver pointed a gun at her. She slowly raised her hands in surrender, her lips trembling. "Please, don't shoot," she begged.

The driver sighed, his expression softening. "I don't want to hurt you, Anastasia. Just get in the car and let's part ways."

Anastasia nodded shakily and took slow steps towards the car. She sat down, fastened her seatbelt, and clutched her shirt, her mind racing.

The driver apologized and closed the door after her. As the car drove off, Anastasia's life flashed before her eyes. She couldn't believe what was happening.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a penthouse. The driver led her to a garage, where three women greeted her. They took her belongings and bowed.

"We're the staff," one of them explained. "We handle cleaning and cooking."

Anastasia was stunned. What was going on? Two days ago, she'd broken up with her boyfriend, and now she was being taken to some stranger's penthouse.

"Mr MacQuoid is waiting for you in his bedroom," one of the women said.

Anastasia's eyes widened in disgust. "Bedroom? Do we have some night shots?"

The driver flashed her an apologetic glance before driving away. Anastasia rolled her eyes and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Her mind raced as she followed the women to the penthouse. What did Mr. MacQuoid want with her? And why was she being taken to his bedroom?

As they entered the penthouse, Anastasia was struck by its opulence. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows with breathtaking views of the city.

The woman led her to a door at the end of the hall. "Mr. MacQuoid is waiting," one of them said, opening the door.

Anastasia hesitated, her heart pounding. "Thank you,"

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room. And gasped.

As Anastasia entered the room, a hand clamped down on her wrist, spinning her around and pinning her to the door. "Perfect shot!" a voice exclaimed, just as the door clicked shut behind her.

Anastasia's eyes flashed up to meet Jamie's gaze, his Grey eyes eerily blank. A photographer stood ten paces away, the camera still raised, capturing the scene.

Anastasia's eyes narrowed as she took in the setup - a fully equipped studio, lights and backdrops at the ready. She realized she'd been tensed for nothing, and anger flared.

With a pained sigh, she wrenched her wrist free and slapped Jamie across the cheek. The camera clattered to the floor as the photographer gasped, and the room fell silent.