C28 No Mixup

In her haste to get away from the hand that grabbed her, Annabelle stumbled backwards, nearly losing her balance as she looked up at the man she’d collided with.

Her heart froze in place as a wave of confusion rushed through her. He looked so familiar, yet she was certain she had never seen him before.

She was aware of the men behind him, but her gaze was drawn back to him before she could register the danger that men with bodyguards held.

His sharp jawline, the tousled dark hair, and those eyes…those intense, almost mischievous eyes.

She felt a flicker of recognition like she should have known him, but nothing about him felt like anyone she had encountered. Still, the unsettling feeling lingered in her chest.

Then, his lips quirked into a roguish smile. She was used to lecherous looks, but he was different. The way his eyes scanned her felt like a slow, deliberate caress.

She could feel her heart racing, her mind frantically searching for any memory of him, but there was nothing. She knew she’d remember a face like his; handsome, sharp, and utterly confident.

Relief also flooded her body because she was sure she had never seen him with that murderer before. Since she doubted that a man like him would have anything to do with a bastard like Tad, she didn’t bother to think of that connection.

His gaze didn’t waver, trailing over her with a casual, lingering interest that only made her more unsettled. And then he smiled. A crooked, roguish grin that sparkled with a kind of reckless charm. Annabelle’s breath caught a mix of confusion and a tiny spark of intrigue.

She could practically feel his thoughts swirling, and they were anything but innocent.

Then, he spoke, shattering her curiosity with the shock of his words.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and teasing. “If you wanted to fall into my arms, darling, all you had to do was ask. Though, I suppose I should thank you for making it easy for me to catch you.” He chuckled, the sound deep and unabashedly flirtatious.

Annabelle blinked, taken aback by the audacity in his voice. He stepped a little closer, a glint of amusement in his gaze as he tilted his head slightly. “No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he continued, the corners of his mouth turning up even more. “You know, I always knew I had a certain pull. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Don’t worry, though. I won’t hold it against you if you want to make it up to me with a kiss.”

His insinuation was bold, and she was caught off guard by the playful, yet somewhat raunchy undertone in his voice.

“I… I didn’t mean to…sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” she stammered, her voice faltering as she quickly took a step back, trying to distance herself. She had more important things to worry about. Like finding out about Jose and getting as far away from this damn hospital before the guard would think that she was throwing herself at men now.

Without giving him a chance to say anything else, Annabelle muttered another apology. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, her feet carrying her away with the kind of urgency that matched her racing thoughts. She didn’t want to deal with this man. She didn’t need this kind of distraction right now. She needed to find Cathy before her world could be right again.

But as she walked away, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze on her back. It was like he was studying her, watching every step she took, and the sensation sent a shiver down her spine. She fought the urge to look back, to confirm if he was still watching, but she knew it was too risky. She still felt uneasy about the thought that she had seen him before.

********

Meanwhile, Mikhail Virell’s eyes remained fixed on Annabelle’s retreating form, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He watched her walk away with a certain kind of admiration, like a hunter studying its prey.

She was beautiful. There was no doubt about that.

With her messy, chestnut hair. Her fierce, almost guarded demeanour.

The way she carried herself with such strength, despite how he saw the guard pushed her earlier.

He wished she had told him what happened though, so he could make sure that bastard never lifted his head in Acadia again.

“If only she belonged to me.” He thought wistfully as he imagined how much he would spoil her if she was his woman.

And, damn it, the way she moved. Every step, every subtle sway of her hips had him fantasising.

He could imagine holding her close, feeling her soft skin against his. He could almost taste the moment when she’d finally surrender to him. The thought was intoxicating, and his body responded almost involuntarily.

He snapped back into reality as his phone buzzed.

Mikhail pulled his gaze away from Annabelle and reached for his phone. His cheerful look hardened as he saw the caller.

“Dante,” Mikhail said, his voice deep and edgy, “I just got to the hospital. I’ll handle it.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and Mikhail could almost feel Dante’s domineering presence, even over the phone. “Good,” Dante’s voice came through cool and calm. “I trust there will be no mixup this time?.”

Mikhail’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Of course. I told you last time was a...”

"...a mistake. Yeah, I got it." Dante said impatiently. "Make sure it doesn't repeat itself."

"Yes, boss," Mikhail said deliberately. Then he asked “Why didn’t you tell me Antonia’s staying at your place? Dad wants to know why she suddenly chose to stay.”

There was another pause, but this one was shorter. “Ask her,” Dante replied, his voice suddenly colder, a hint of finality in his tone.

The line went dead.

Mikhail lowered the phone slowly, frustration simmering under his skin.

He was tempted to call back, just to annoy Dante, but he knew he needed to clear up his mistake first.

He owed Dante a lot, but the man just tried his patience with how controlled and perfect he could be all the time. They were both heirs to their families' businesses. Yet, his family would have crumbled if not for Dante’s influence.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his sense of inadequacy gnawed at him again.

He wasn’t like Dante. He didn’t have that same natural leadership, that charisma that commanded loyalty and respect.

It was why Dante made him do certain things.

They all knew Sal could handle things like that, but then Dante wanted Mikhail to do these things so those concerned could know of his deeds and think twice before taking him on as they had done in the past.

Still, the thought of Annabelle lingered in the back of his mind. She was a fine piece of ass. He could tell just by the way she carried herself that she wasn’t someone who would fall for flattery or cheap lines. That only made her more of a challenge, and Mikhail thrived on challenges.

His thought was interrupted by an impatient cough. Sal, his right-hand man, though more of Dante’s watchdog in Mikhail’s opinion, stood nearby, his face a mask of practised neutrality.

But there was a flicker of judgment there like he knew exactly what Mikhail was thinking. Mikhail rolled his eyes, unwilling to give Sal the satisfaction of feeling morally superior.

“Relax, Sal,” he muttered, smirking. “I know. We’ve got work to do.”

Sal nodded, glancing toward the five men who had gathered a few paces away, waiting for instructions. Mikhail straightened, his demeanour shifting as he looked over them. He may not have Dante’s knack for leadership, but he knew his duty.

“Alright,” he ordered, keeping his voice steady and cold. “You know what to do. Sal, you’re with me.”

Each man nodded. Then they slipped away toward their designated entrances, moving with quiet, efficient precision.

Mikhail moved forward, adjusting his jacket and steeling himself for the task ahead.

The target…a man who’d dared to defy his family’s authority…was somewhere inside the hospital, likely clinging to the last scraps of life.

“Ready to wrap this up?” he murmured to Sal as they stepped through the main doors.

Sal nodded, his face set in a calm expression that was almost unsettling in its blankness. “Whenever you are.”