Bought By A Decena [R-18] (Completed)

III. VEE FOR VENDETTA (2/2)

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With an unwavering emotion of hatred for her ex, she strode to the main entrance of the Decena Tower. Her red heels clacking loudly against the pavement she walked on and the sharp sound stopping when the two security ay the entrance halted her for inspection.

     First, they checked what's in her Marmont red velvet bag from Gucci. Then one of the guards hovered his hands on her back and stomach in search of weapons that could be hiding underneath her black dress.

     "Did you bring any weapons with you, Madame?"

     She cracked them one of her prettiest but vicious smiles. "Just my bomb pussy."

     That had the guard searching her body coughing and the other guard standing beside them chuckling. They let her pass and as soon as her red heels started clacking again on the polished tiles beneath her feet, her smile instantly dropped. She side glanced back to them to give them a mean piercing look that probably had them second-guessing by now if it was a right decision to let her inside the building as their expressions turned from laid-back to worried to serious.

     Duraki. Mga tanga. Did they really think asking her would get them an honest answer about whether she had any weapons with her or not? Gluppy. Deystvitel'no, glupo. Stupid. Really stupid.

     She doesn't need to bring any conspicuous guns or knives to end someone's life. To someone like her, killing is as easy as stabbing one's jugular vein with her long fingernail. She was the weapon herself.

     True enough, she saw one of the guards in her peripheral vision touch his earpiece as if to alert everyone on the area about a possible threat. Every security personnel on the ground floor has their heated gazes fixed on her. Hot. Due to both suspicion and lustful attraction.

      Unbothered, she continued strutting her way to the information desk.

     Two women wearing a grey uniform in the information desk greeted her with a warm smile.

     One of the women spoke when she approached. "Good morning, Madame. How may I help you?"

     "I am Kristina Ivanov," she introduced herself in her spicy Russian accent. "I am here to see André Decena."

     "Do you have an appointment with Sir André, Madame?"

     The question, though politely asked, made her lips twitch into a half-wincing, half-mocking smile. "In case you're not aware of the news, I'll gladly enlighten you that André Decena is f-cking up the Ivanovs for the sole reason that he wants to see me. Why in the f-cking world would I need to make an appointment to meet him if it's him who's raising hell in the city just because he's dying to see me again?" she spat the words like they were acid. "Call him and let him know that I'm here."