Chapter 215 Acting Duo
The afternoon sun glinted off the metallic gray finish of my Lamborghini as I cruised through Moscow's wide boulevards.
My peaceful drive didn't last long. In my rearview mirror, I spotted three sports cars weaving through traffic toward me—a red Ferrari, a black Maserati, and a pink Lamborghini. The drivers were young men, probably in their twenties, with expensive watches glinting in the sunlight and self-satisfied smirks plastered across their faces.
They pulled up alongside me at a red light, revving their engines. The guy in the Ferrari whistled and called out something in Russian that I chose to ignore. His friends laughed, and the one in the pink Lamborghini leaned out his window.
"Nice car, beautiful lady! Want to race?" His English carried a thick Russian accent.
I accelerated as the light turned green, hoping to leave them behind, but they stayed on my tail, honking and showing off with dangerous maneuvers. The pink Lamborghini cut in front of me, forcing me to brake.
That's when I got a better look at the driver of the pink car. Something about him seemed familiar.
"Hey gorgeous, why not come for a ride with us?" the driver called out, his sunglasses pushed up on his slicked-back hair. "We know all the best spots in Moscow!"
I pulled out my phone and texted Night: Where are you?
His response came quickly: Arctic Fox HQ. Dealing with the usual bullshit. Why? Need something, baby?
I typed: Progress?
These old bastards just want to squeeze some benefits out of me before letting go. I'm thinking of taking the hard approach.
Looking at the message, a plan immediately formed in my mind.
I deliberately cut in front of the pink Lamborghini, then slowed down, allowing him to chase me. I repeated this several times, showcasing my superior driving skills while subtly leading them toward Red Square, where there would be plenty of witnesses.
The young men grew increasingly agitated, especially the pink Lamborghini driver. When we reached a crowded area near Red Square, I pulled over abruptly. As expected, they surrounded my car.
The pink Lamborghini driver jumped out first, storming toward me as I calmly stepped out of my vehicle.
"You think that's funny, bitch?" he shouted, reaching for my arm.
I let him grab me, then executed a simple wrist lock that brought him to his knees, his face contorted in pain.
"What's your name?" I asked coldly.
"Benjamin," he spat, trying to wrestle free. "Let go of me!"
"Benjamin who?"
"Benjamin Thorne! My father is an executive at Arctic Fox! He'll destroy you for this!"
Bingo. Exactly what I needed.
I released him and pulled out my phone, calling Night while maintaining eye contact with Benjamin, who was now surrounded by his friends.
"Hey," I said when Night answered. "I've been grabbed by Benjamin Griffinn and his friends. We're at Red Square." I paused for effect. "Remember to talk to his father about it. Have a good conversation with him."
Benjamin lunged at me, but I sidestepped smoothly. I heard Night's voice transform instantly from casual to murderous rage.
"What the fuck did you just say?" he snarled.
I caught Benjamin's arm and flipped him onto the concrete, listening as silence fell over the phone. I could imagine the Arctic Fox executives frozen in place, their resource allocation discussion forgotten in the wake of Night's outburst.
"You dare touch me?" Benjamin struggled to his feet, charging at me again.
I dodged sideways, driving my knee into his stomach while hearing Night slam something—probably his fist—against a table through the phone.
"I'll be right there." On the phone, Night's voice dripped with deadly intent. Then I heard him address someone else—definitely Griffinn. "Your son just grabbed my woman. If anything happens to her, I'll personally put a bullet through his skull."
I blocked a punch from one of Benjamin's friends but deliberately slowed my movements, allowing another to grab my arm.
"What are you talking about?" came an unfamiliar voice through the phone—Griffinn, no doubt.
"If she's harmed in any way, I'm not just taking 791 Group. I'll burn Arctic Fox to the ground." Night's voice was ice cold.
I heard a chair being kicked backward, followed by rapid footsteps. By now, Benjamin and his friends had surrounded me, and I pretended to struggle, letting them believe they had the upper hand.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Benjamin grabbed my hair, triumphant.
"You're dead," I whispered, a cold smile flickering across my face. I could hear the silence on the other end of the call, followed by nervous murmurs from the executives—they all knew Night never made empty threats.
I feigned weakened resistance, allowing Benjamin and his friends to push me into the back of the pink Lamborghini.
---
By the time Night arrived at Red Square with a dozen elite members of 791 Group, Benjamin and his friends had tried to intimidate me at a nearby parking garage.
Night burst into the garage like a hurricane, his eyes wild with calculated rage. With one swift kick, he sent Benjamin sprawling across the concrete floor.
"Touch her again," Night hissed, pressing his boot against Benjamin's throat, "and I'll end you."
Benjamin's friends backed away, suddenly realizing who they were dealing with.
---
Back at Night's estate, we could barely contain our laughter as we celebrated in his study.
"Your face when you kicked him," I said, accepting a glass of vodka from Night. "Oscar-worthy performance."
Night grinned, loosening his tie. "How was my line delivery? 'I'll burn Arctic Fox to the ground'—too much?"
"Perfect amount of psychotic rage," I assured him, taking a sip. "Griffinn will be desperate to get his son back."
"And desperate men make hasty deals." Night clinked his glass against mine.
I nodded. "Some makeup to enhance the bruises they actually gave me. Nothing too dramatic—we don't want him suspicious."
Night laughed. "We should've gone into acting instead of killing."
"Less money, more publicity," I replied. "Bad trade-off."
A security alert chimed, interrupting our planning session.
"Griffinn's here," Night said, checking the camera feed. "Time for act two."
I quickly applied some strategic makeup to look distressed and disheveled.
When Griffinn was escorted into Night's study, he found Night comforting me on the sofa, my face partially hidden against his shoulder.
"Where's my son?" Griffinn demanded, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.
Night looked up, his expression darkening. "Safe. Unlike my girlfriend here, who your son and his friends thought would be fun to rough up."
"This is a misunderstanding," Griffinn began, his tone shifting to placating. "Boys will be boys—"
Night pulled out his gun and pointed it directly at Griffinn, who flinched visibly. Everyone at Arctic Fox knew Night was unhinged enough to actually pull the trigger, and powerful enough to get away with it.
"Your son put his hands on what's mine," Night said coldly. "In what world did you think that would end well for him?"
Griffinn swallowed hard. "What do you want?"
"I want what I've always wanted," Night replied. "791 Group, free and clear from Arctic Fox."
"That's not possible—"
"It is now." Night cocked the gun. "You have two days to draw up acceptable terms. Until then, Benjamin stays with me as insurance."
Griffinn's jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Two days."