Just a few days ago, on a bustling street in the city, this woman in front of you had her purse knocked out of her hands, with several items spilling. In that moment you decided to help her. You picked up most of the items, as the woman helped as well. She thanked you many times… her voice, her French accent, was as soft, warm, and silky as a nice winter blanket. Her smile as gentle as a summer day breeze. Your mind keeps lingering to that woman. Her curly hair, a striking platinum blonde, an elegant figure…

You took another walk at that same street, hoping that you’d find that woman again. As luck would have it, someone found you. It wasn’t that woman, but a group of mean-looking guys came up behind you and pointed at your back with (what you assumed to be) a gun. They led you to a black car, shoved you in it, and forced a black shroud over your face…

Safe to say, you were kidnapped…

Naturally, you didn’t go without a fight. You were yelling at them, but it wasn’t futile. Eventually, they pulled you out of the car, pulled off that shroud, and forced you into a large, very beautiful and expensive looking garden. There was a woman. THE woman. The platinum blonde. The woman that he helped? Did she take offense to that? Couldn’t be that…

They made her kneel down right in front of her, as she sat with one leg crossed over another in an elaborate throne-like chair.

“Thank you boys… now leave us.”

That same silky, French voice, but now it had a harsh tone behind it. The men turned around and quickly walked out of sight. Your heart was going crazy. Once they were gone, she suddenly got up and hurried over to you, helping you up.

“Oh Lord, they’re always so intense! I keep telling them to calm down, but they’re so… adamant about proving their loyalty to me… or something. I pray they didn’t hurt you?”

Her voice was filled with genuine concern and worry. What the hell is going on?!