The Man Behind The Beast (BWWM) ✓

Chapter 29: Prepare The Food And Insult The Kidnapper

Alright, so imma vent for a minute here.

I do read through as many as the comments I can get to within my busy schedule, and you guys have seriously been the fucking best. Y'all have put up with all my inconsistencies, and just dived right in with the emotional trauma I've inflicted upon you. Please continue to grace this comment section with that sassy humor because it really does lighten up my breaks at work.

Recently, it's been brought to my attention that there's a few salty bitches out there, and this is for them: if you don't like my story, don't read my story. Understand that my name is on this copy right and this story is just that... mine. My thoughts, and my writing style isn't for everyone and I understand that. I expected like 10 reads on this shit, and I'm so incredibly humble that this story is literally almost at 100k. Y'all have me shook.

That being said...

Any negative comments that are posted, will automatically get deleted. I don't have the time nor the piece of mind to either condone nor spread that negativity.

So I'm not going to name names since I'm not that savage, but to the bitch who had shit to say about a fucking salmon slab...

Thanks for the views✌🏾️

Now enjoy this damn chapter I'm hitting y'all with at 5 o'clock in the damn morning. But understand this...

I'm really not the one.
You have the wrong bitch.
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Elle's POV
I glanced at the clock from the illuminated television screen. It was now almost nine into the night, and I was still ziptied on the couch as I heard both men argue from somewhere behind me. I didn't dare turn around as I felt the tension in the air, thicken.

My mind had begun to move at a paced that scared myself half to death.

Have you ever thought so hard about something, you believed the people in the room could pick up on those thoughts? That your thoughts would magically manifest into words and they'd soon have an idea of exactly what is was, you were thinking about?

This was like that.

"Why don't we call now?" The driver hissed, breaking my concentration, as I heard heavy metal slam against the marbled counter.

"We will in a few minutes. Be patient, Pierre. I first need to confirm some important details before we set any plans in motion." The man who was in the passenger seat, replied.

"Plans in motion? Are you fucking kidding me? We just kidnapped a girl from the fucking airport. Plans are already set in motion. The high security detail most likely already have the plates for that unregistered vehicle that is now sitting in the driveway of one of my mothers estate!" The driver, Pierre, snapped.

I had to bite my lips hard from concealing a laugh that was threatening to spill. I could feel my nerves ease and IQ inevitably drop by the sound of how unprofessionally stupid these two actually were.

Really?

They chose his mother's home as a hide out?

A heard a phone buzz from a notification of some sort.

"Keep it down, Pierre!" The man from the passenger seat hissed. "Everything will be fine. I've just gotten the okay from the Russians. Go tend to the girl. See if she needs anything to eat or drink, while I give the handler a quick call to confirm the drop for DeGramont and the cash. Don't loose sight of the bigger picture, my friend."

"Tend to the girl? What do I look like to you, a butler?" Pierre hissed, as I head the metal drag against the counter again before he reloaded what now believed to be a gun, into his holster. His footsteps were heavy against the wooden panels as I heard him approach my location at the couch. Everything seemed to creak and moan from these two mens's presence.

As Pierre arrived in front of me, I knew the next few words that came out of my mouth would have to both clear up my suspicions, and not get me killed.

No pressure, right?

I could feel his hands reach behind me to check the knots, and as they did, the plastic from the zip ties dug deeper into my now fresh wounds. "Vous le morceau de merde." I hissed under my breath as pain shot through my wrists.

Almost Instantly, his hand was on my throat as his calloused fingers began to tighten their grip.

"What did you say to me, bitch?" He hissed, but I could tell by the pure range in his eyes, he understood that language exactly.

I had called him a piece of shit in French.

Stefan's POV
"How is everything so far?" I asked Mrs. Potts as she made her way to the entrance of the ballroom.

The feast itself had gone splendidly well as the attendees ate my food, drank my wine, and wished me a speedy recovery. As the time quickly approached 9, most of the guests had started to dwindle out, but ofcourse, our Italian friends were still going strong. They weren't ones to turn down a good feast.

"Keep a smile on your face and don't panic." Mrs. Potts calmly directed as she slid a note into my trouser's pocket. I nodded understandingly. "I just received word that Elle never made it onto the flight. I've already put the head of our security detail on this. All the information they could gather from surveillance is in your pocket, but I request that you don't look at it until you're in the privacy of your office. Mingle a few more minutes, then excuse yourself to the bathroom. I have both Maxwell, and one of the airport security in your office already. I ushered them both in through the back entrance of the estate."

My face remained stoic, but my hands involuntary tightened on the glass I'm holding. It wasn't long before it shattered in between my fingers.

You could hear the break as it echoed through the now silenced room.

I quickly put a grin on my face as both Mrs. Potts and I bent down to collect some shards.

"My good friend forgets his strength sometimes!" Mariano Di Malfacini bellowed as the room erupted in laughter with him. I glanced up and expected to see his wasted state, and while he was still laughing, his eyes were as sober as they were when he stepped into this household. They pierced into mine while we shared a silent warning.

"No more screw ups, Stefan. At this point, we aren't sure who the enemy is." Mrs. Potts silently reminded me, as she wrapped my few scrapes with a handkerchief from her pocket. I nodded once more, before planting a soft kiss on her temple, and walking back into the crowd.

Before I could reach anyone in particular, Mariano was already on me.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his face still bubbly, but his senses now on full alert. Regardless of how drunk he'd been acting tonight, I didn't smell a drop of alcohol on him now. It made me realize how alert I should have been this entire night.

Men like Mariano and I couldn't afford to let our guard down. Ever.

"It's Elle." I whispered back, as I poured myself a generous amount of water into a new glass. "I think she's been taken."

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