Chapter 4 - THE ESTATE
At seven o'clock sharp, a black luxury sedan pulled up in front of my apartment building.
I stepped out onto the curb wearing a simple black dress.
It was the nicest thing I owned, though it looked modest compared to the car waiting for me.
The driver opened the door without a word.
I slipped into the leather back seat.
The windows were tinted so heavily that the city lights outside looked like distant stars.
We drove for nearly forty minutes.
We left the noisy streets of downtown Chicago behind, heading north into the wealthy suburban enclaves.
Eventually, the car slowed down.
We turned onto a private winding road lined with massive oak trees.
At the end of the driveway stood high iron gates with intricate scrollwork.
As the car approached, the gates swung open automatically.
Beyond the gates lay a breathtaking estate.
A massive stone mansion stood at the center of sprawling manicured lawns.
Fountains bubbled softly in the courtyards.
Dim, warm floodlights illuminated the stunning architecture.
It looked more like an old European castle than a home in Illinois.
The car stopped in front of the grand entrance.
Viktor opened my door and offered his hand to help me out.
"Welcome to the Volkov estate, Miss Elena," he said politely.
"Thank you, Viktor," I whispered, looking up at the imposing structure.
He led me through double oak doors into a grand foyer.
Crystal chandeliers hung high overhead, casting warm golden light across marble floors.
Framed oil paintings adorned the walls.
Everything smelled faintly of polished wood and fresh flowers.
"This way, please," Viktor guided me down a long hallway.
He opened a set of double doors leading into a cozy, firelit dining room.
A long mahogany table sat in the center of the room.
Sitting at the far end of the table was Misha.
He was wearing clean, tailored clothes and swinging his legs under the chair.
Next to him stood Mikhail.
He had removed his dark coat and was wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
When Misha saw me, his face lit up instantly.
"Miss Elena!" he shouted, sliding out of his chair.
He ran across the polished floor toward me.
I dropped to my knees, catching him as he threw his arms around my neck.
"Hi, Misha," I laughed gently, hugging him back. "Look at you! All dry and clean."
"Papa got me a new coat," Misha said proudly, pulling back to show off his sweater.
"And he said you were coming to eat dinner with us!"
I smiled, smoothing his hair down.
Then I raised my eyes.
Mikhail was standing a few feet away, watching us with a unreadable expression.
The warm glow of the fireplace highlighted his sharp jawline and the subtle gray hair at his temples.
"Elena," he said, stepping forward.
His voice was as deep and commanding as I remembered.
May you like
"Thank you for coming."
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