Fortune Favors The Bold

A mansion was not supposed to be intimidating. Yet, as Alaya Petrov surveyed the setting of the lakefront Xanadu estate, she felt a chill run through her veins. Hidden behind the hillside alongside Lake Washington for maximum privacy and security, the multi-compound estate came into full view as she rounded the road. Had she been a person to be easily impressed by wealth, she would have been greatly enthralled by that splendor of opulent display. Fortunately for her, money was not on the top of her agenda, her career was. And right now, she was under the obligation to carry out her duty. The owner of the “Fortune’s Heaven”, the great Mason Fortune was dead. Correction! The man had been brutally murdered. She was the detective assigned to the high-profile case. A quote from The Great Gatsby crossed her mind in an impromptu moment as she reached the gates. "He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it." Such a waste to have acquired that much wealth only to end up D.O.A, just like the mediocre population. It seemed that death was not keen on discrimination, and that made Alaya a great fan. “How may we help you, ma’am?” a polite guard asked when her black S.U.V stopped right outside the door. “I’m afraid no one is allowed inside.” “Detective Petrov,” she flashed her badge in front of a stunned man who immediately appeared contrive. Alaya hid a grin – she was used to people being shocked when she announced her name and profession. Stereotypes preferred ‘Detective Petrov’ to be a chubby bearded man. Someone Russian called Alexander or Ivanov most likely with red hair and a fervent supporter of President Vladimir Putin. “Can you wear this?” the guard asked fretting around his small cabin to remove what looked like a smart pin. “What’s that for?” she asked curiously. Although she was not savvy to technology, she had to admit that the tiny thing intrigued her more than it was supposed to. “For biometric identification. And for movement tracking,” the guard duly informed like he was reciting the instructions from a booklet. “Cool,” she replied offhandedly, her detective sense immediately on the radar. Her job would be much easier if there was biometric tracking. “Am I all clear?” she questioned before stepping on the accelerator as the man nodded positively. As the motored courtyard came into view, she drove around the huge fountain which decorated the main yard to stop right in front. A set of butlers hurried towards her vehicle in rapid strides. They all stood motionless as the sight of her climbing out of the S.U.V with her suitcase and notebook. “Detective Petrov,” she announced getting bored of the shocked reaction, handing over her keys without any further ado. “Can you show me the way to the murder scene please?” Recovering from the shock, a maid who seemed to be in her old forties offered a handshake in forward motion. “Welcome, Mrs. Petrov. I am Georgina. I will be your guide to the…the…to where Mr. Fortune is.” Interesting, Alaya noted with avid attentiveness. The servants were scared to even mention the fact that there has been a murder in the household. Were they intimidated by someone? Keeping her hypothesis to herself, she followed the woman inside the manor. If she expected to have her opinion revised by the interior, she was sorely disappointed. Similar to the eerie disposition from the outlook, the inside offered no soothing effect. In fact, she felt the premonition shadowing her like a cloak as the heavy mahogany door closed behind her with an ominous thud. “This way,” Georgina said indicating past the corridor as she stood in the central hallway under the sumptuous chandelier in front of the staircase. Her head spinning at the overt display of wealth, she kept following the woman as they mounted the stairs to the second floor. Alaya had difficulty imagining people living in such a big house without getting lost. Her apartment down the 50th Ave S near the lake of Washington and was twenty-five minutes away from her place of work, which she attended on her decathlon road bike. The whole flat would fit in the living room alone. “Who else lives in the house?” she questioned, taking out her notebook, but stumbled once again on her footstep as she tripped over the carpet. Georgina flashed her a suspicious glance, and Alaya’s mind started to work overtime. It looked like the woman was afraid of saying something out of place. Interesting. The question didn’t have much to do with the case, but she was curious enough and in certain cases, more information was better than none. “There’s the mistress – Mrs. Fortune. And her son.” “That’s all? Two people in such a big house?” Alaya asked in a stage-whispered shock. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” A disapproved frown formed on the woman’s face who refrained from any answer, but her pinched expression made her displeasure clear. Alaya reckoned she was just loyal to her employers more than anything. “How old is the son?” she continued unfazed. Her job didn’t allow her to be intimidated after the first question. Another reprimand was about to get her way when the maid stopped right in front of a door. And what a door it was! It looked like a high-quality grade mirror with stainless steel. Her mouth opened to ask another question when a figure lurked right in front of them. Her heart leapt in fear as she faced the intruder, her breath stuck in her throat when her gaze collided with the stranger. In front of her stood the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her entire life. And she was not exaggerating. A slanted thin face adorned by hard chiseled cheekbones which seemed to have been carved from pure granite. Surrounded by dark black hair, the stark dichotomy with the white skin was prominent with the strands falling over the forehead. Thick eyebrows and a French beard were almost a blasphemy in that exquisitely beautiful face. Straight aquiline nose protruded in the middle to end in a pronounced grooved space above thick and luscious lips. Really, cupid’s bow should have looked ridiculously feminine on a man, especially with the thick eyelashes which adorned perfect olive-green eyes. Alaya sighed in pure unadulterated female fantasy, swooning over the depiction of sheer male perfection. Wait a second. The most handsome man in the world was scowling fiercely at her with belligerent olive-green eyes gleamed with a layer of hostility. “You have no business here, Miss Alaya Petrov,” he hollered in an aggressive voice, and Alaya wished that his voice could have been squeaky and whiny. However, the universe seemed to have other plans for her. It had poured every favor on that one particular man. As if his physical perfection was not enough, he was also equipped with the best bedroom voice which would make any woman’s panties snap with breathless anticipation. “Huh?” she muttered still wheezing in the aftermath of coming face-to-face with a live version of the Greek myth Adonis. “Master Adonis,” Georgina was saying after she had cleared her throat several times to diffuse the palpable tension in the atmosphere. “Miss Petrov is here to check on ermmm…. your father.” Master Adonis? His name was Adonis?! Adonis Fortune? Oh dear! Hysterical bubble of laughter threatened to burst from her lips but considering the awkward situation, she reigned in her unwarranted agitation with great difficulty. His next words served to drive any remnant of mirth from her, her lips snapping back in a tight displeased line. Angry eyes flashed towards Alaya throwing daggers her way. “I know damn well why she is here! She does not even look like a detective. I am not letting her inside the room!”