Chapter 87 A SANCTUARY.
\~~~RAINA.
The drive to the office was torture. I kept a strong face the whole way, staring out the window with my arms crossed. Viktor didn't say a word, his grip was on the wheel, and his eyes were locked on the road. The silence stretched like a dead zone, as if we were transporting a corpse instead of just me to work.
Gosh, whatever! I thought, biting my lip to keep from snapping again. By the time we pulled up to the building, my head throbbed from the tension.
~~
Work was like a welcome distraction, at least at first. I dove into meetings, barking orders and reviewing reports, letting the corporate rhythm push Luciano's coldness to the back of my mind. The morning flew by in a blur of spreadsheets and client calls. Alessia popped in once, shooting me a curious look about my mood, but I waved her off with a fake laugh. “Just… marital stuff,” I had said, and she didn't pry.
After the last meeting wrapped up, a grueling discussion on quarterly projections, I headed back to my office, heels clicking on the polished floor. My secretary, trailed behind me, notepad in hand. “So, I need you to bring the short report on the Thompson account. And schedule a follow-up with marketing for noon.”
“Yes, ma'am,” she replied efficiently, jotting it down.
As I settled into my desk chair, my eyes landed on a neatly wrapped box sitting right in the center of the blotter. It was small, about the size of a jewelry case, tied with a crisp red ribbon.
“What is this?” I asked, lifting it carefully. It felt light, almost too light for what it might contain.
Elena glanced over. “It was addressed to you, ma'am and was delivered this morning. I have no idea what is inside.”
I shook the box gently, listening for clues, a rattle, or a shift but nothing gave it away. I twitched my lips in thought. “There's no sender information either?”
“No, ma'am. Just your name on the label.”
I nodded, setting it down. “Alright, that is all for now. Get me that report soon.”
Elena turned to leave, the door clicking shut behind her. Alone at last, I picked up the box again, shaking it one more time. Curiosity gnawed at me.
Who would send something like this?
A gift from Luciano to make up for his assholery? Doubtful. He would rather die than do that. That, I'm sure of.
Or maybe from Alessia, some silly office prank. I hummed softly in anticipation, fingers working the ribbon loose.
The wrapping paper peeled away easily, revealing a plain white box underneath. I lifted the lid, peering inside. There was shredded gift filler, and pink tissue paper cushioned whatever was there.
Slowly, I pushed it aside, my brows pulling together in confusion.
Nestled at the bottom was a small white stuffed doll, no bigger than my hand. It looked handmade, with button eyes and a stitched smile, dressed in a tiny frilly dress.
Cute, but odd. Why would anyone send me this?
“What is…” My voice trailed off as my phone beeped on the desk, a notification lighting up the screen.
I grabbed it with one hand, still holding the doll in the other, and unlocked the message. It was from an unknown number,
“You will be blowing yourself up, and everyone around you, if you let go of that stuffed doll.”
My brow furrowed deeper.
What bullshit was this?
Some prank? But a chill crept up my spine.
I turned the doll over, and my eyes widened in horror. Attached to its back, sewn crudely into the fabric, was a small digital timer. Red numbers glowed: 29:58.
Counting down. Thirty minutes? No, twenty-nine now.
Another beep and I glanced at the phone with my heart pounding.
“The moment you picked up that doll, you detonated it. Let go of it, and you are blowing up.”
My breath caught in my throat.
This wasn't a joke. The weight of the doll suddenly felt like lead in my palm, wires peeking from the seam, and a tiny device humming faintly against my skin.
Panic surged through me and I instantly felt hot, and dizzy.
What the hell?
Who did this?
I froze, the doll clutched tight in my palm, too afraid to move.
The office, once a sanctuary, now felt like a trap.
My Secretary could fucking walk back in any second.
The whole floor… my subordinates, the clients… all oblivious could… fucking blow up if I let go of this stupid doll!
No, no… this was a prank.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as the timer ticked: 29:45. I had to think fast.
Call Luciano? The police?
But if I dropped it... boom. Everyone is gone.
The doll's stitched eyes seemed to mock me, innocent on the outside, deadly within. How had it gotten here? Past the security, and even my secretary? Someone knew my routine, and my office.
My heart pounded violently as I stared at the countdown, the numbers already ticking away slowly, and mercilessly.
This is not a prank.
This is not a threat.
And fucking hell, I am holding it!