Chapter 8

After telling me to stay in the corner, he turns and crouches down, aiming the gun at the door. His whole demeanor has changed, intense concentration entering his eyes, the pistol seeming to glint as he stares down the iron sight. My sluggish mind is slowly trying to accept that this is real. The ringing in my ears proves that.

They shot out the windows and busted down the door. Maybe it was only the blinds that saved us. Perhaps they got tangled in them long enough for Dimitri to carry me through the store.

The door keeps rattling, the desk squeaking against the floor.

"Dimitri," I whisper, somehow finding my voice. "Do you have another gun?"

"No," he says, not taking his eyes off the door.

I get on all fours and crawl to the other side of the room. A bunch of stuff fell off the desk when Dimitri moved it. He glances at me, frowning, but he can't focus on me when the door is still shimmying open.

Sorting through the stuff, I find a letter opener with the name Susan engraved on the handle. It was probably a gift. I mutter a silent "Sorry, Susan" when I think about using it. Will I even be capable of that? I don't know, but I feel better with it clasped in my hands, even with the shaking and the uncertainty.

When somebody sticks their gun hand through the door, without any hesitation, Dimitri shoots through the door several times. A man grunts, and somebody else shouts something in Russian. There's a bunch of noise behind the door and more yelling in Russian. Dimitri shouts back angrily.

"What are they saying?"

"If I give them you, they'll let me walk out of here."

"They want me?"

"To get to me, probably," Dimitri says in disgust, then he yells something in Russian. "They must've seen us together."

"What did you say?"

"I told them to go to hell and that I'll spend every resource at my disposal to hunt them down if they even think about taking you."

There's some whispering behind the door and another exchange in Russian.

"Now they want money," Dimitri mutters after responding. "Payment for their dead friend. Like I would've shot the bastard if they didn't try to hurt you."

Dimitri growls something, his tone dark, his muscles seeming to expand like he's going to balloon out of his clothes. My throat is so tight, the world feeling hazy, unsteady, almost like reality could topple over any second.

"I told them the only thing I'll give them is their lives," Dimitri says coldly, "and they're lucky to get that after threatening you."

After another terse exchange, the voices fade from the hallway. Dimitri keeps his aim on the door but takes a few steps back and uses one hand to reach and grab my hand. "Stay behind me," he says. "We're going to the window."

Keeping his body between me and the door, he leads us to a small window that must be there for security reasons since the attackers didn't notice it, the gun never wavering. I can't believe how steady his hands are. The letter opener is juddering around in mine. When we reach the window, I drop it. I don't want to steal Susan's gift.

Outside, there's the sound of tires screeching. Dimitri glances out the window and then nods shortly. "Change of plan. Wait here."

"Dimitri—"

But he's already approaching the door. He moves like a man who is comfortable holding a gun. That's not unusual for Vegas, but it's still a sharp change from what we were doing: flirting, kissing, getting heated. Now, it's like we're suddenly in an action flick.

Dimitri shifts around, trying to move the desk while aiming at the door.

"Let me help," I whisper, grabbing the edge of the desk to drag it backward. Dimitri nods a thanks, then erupts through the door. He paces down the hallway and then returns to me.

"Amateurs," he grunts, then frowns at me. "You might want to cover your eyes, Lia."

"Why?" I say.

"There's a dead body on the floor out here."

He says it coldly, as if he's the one who didn't just kill the man. I'm struggling not to hyperventilate, but Dimitri's demeanor is as icy as his eyes.

"I've seen a dead body before," I tell him.

He flinches. "You have? When?"

"I'm the one who should be asking questions," I say pointedly.

I walk toward the door. Dimitri wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me back. "Are you sure about this?"

Pushing his hand away, I walk into the hallway. The man lies on his back, his shirt covered in blood, tattoos covering every part of his exposed skin that I can see. His gun rests on the floor next to him.

"They just left him here," I say, that creepy feeling moving over me, the one I felt years ago. There's something uniquely horrifying about a corpse, something uncanny about it as if I'm starting a portrait of a person.

"Whoever they are, they're not good people, clearly," Dimitri grunts. "We need to leave. I've got calls to make. I need to clean this up and get you someplace safe. Come on, Lia."

"Get me someplace safe?" I say. "What are you talking about?"

He walks right up to me, blocking off my view of the body, staring down with a determined, serious expression I haven't seen from him since before we started talking. When I'd sometimes watch him walking across the office, he'd get like this, but not with me.

"You can't go home now," he tells me. "You have to come with me."

"But… but…" I take a moment to compose myself. He probably thinks I'm some in-shock damsel, but I let myself crumble under pressure once before. That was why I wanted to see the dead body. I won't let it happen again. "Who were those men? Why would they try to kill you?"

"There's no time, Lia."

"You're not just a CEO."

"No," he says darkly.

"Are you a good person?"

"That's up for interpretation." He grabs my hand. "We'll need to talk about this later."

Despite wanting to stay strong, my legs feel like jelly, and there's not much I can do as he leads me out of the building. Luckily, it's after hours, so there's nobody around, but I can hear sirens in the air.

"Wait here," Dimitri says, leading me to the car's passenger side and then taking out his cell, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

He shuts the door as if he doesn't want me to hear the call he's making. I feel like there's a war in my chest. Half of me wants to stay with Dimitri. The other knows I should run far and fast. He's a stranger; I know nothing about him. Everything we shared is now confusing and twisted.

When Dimitri turns his back, I remind myself that I'm supposed to be thinking my way through problems, not feeling. Even if it means going against my instinct to stay with him, I open the car door, breathe, and start running.

"Fuck," Dimitri yells, and I hear his footsteps behind me, quiet beneath the ringing that's still bouncing around my head.

I duck around a corner and end up in an alleyway. Dammit. I just keep running. The whole thinking thing fails because I end up with Dimitri backing me against a dead end. He still has his gun in his hand, but it's aimed at the ground now.

"Are you going to shoot me, too?" I snap.

He looks disappointed more than anything. Tucking his gun away, he says, "Lia, I'm sorry, but you're coming with me now. It's not safe for you anymore."

"You have to explain."

"No, I don't. Not yet. Not until you're safe."

He walks over and looms over me. Just minutes ago, this would've felt romantic and dangerous in a fun way.

"Who are you?" I whisper. "Tell me that much, at least."

"I'm the Pakhan of the Sokolov Bratva," he says.

"The what of the what?" I ask. "I've never heard of it."

"Later," he grunts. "I'll carry you to the car if I have to."

His expression is solemn. What other choice do I have? But maybe that's a copout. Perhaps this is just me listening to the small, confused voice inside that tells me, somehow, I'll be safer with this stranger than anywhere else.

Dimitri drives out of the city and into the desert, his square jawline tight. We don't say anything for a long time. It's like it's a game, seeing who will crack first, but then I can't take it anymore.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Are you?" he counters, relieved I've finally spoken. Maybe he just thought I didn't want to.

"I'm fine," I tell him. Except that the phrase world tipped upside down suddenly has way more meaning. "I'm not the one who had to…"

"I don't feel bad about that," he rasps. "They were going to kill you, Lia. Or, if they got me first, even worse…" He shudders. "The cowards who ran are lucky."

I sit back in the seat, closing my eyes and breathing. "So what is the Bratva? Is it like the mafia?"

"Sort of," he says.

"So you're a gangster?"

He grits his teeth. "It's complicated."

"Then explain it to me."

Something is devastating in the way he sighs. It's like he wants to turn back time and go back to just being the CEO. I'd like that, too. Things felt high stakes enough when it was just me and him and our heat, but this is something else. My ears are still ringing, and my heart is still thudding.

"Soon," he mutters awkwardly.

"Tell me where you're taking me, at least."

"The compound."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It's the Sokolov house with around-the-clock security. It's the safest place for you right now."

"But I've got work tomorrow."

"Not anymore, you don't. I'm sure your boss will understand."

Since the road is long and empty, he's free to turn to me with a smirk, but it's not like before. This one has an edge to it—a killer's edge, maybe—but he's trying, so I do, too. I smile back. "Ya think?"

He laughs humorlessly, and then the silence is back. If he won't tell me what's happening, what's the point of talking and saying nothing? After another fifteen minutes, we turn into the middle of nowhere. Soon, tall walls come into view, and a massive silver gate appears. Beyond the gate, I can see a vast property, two large houses, and a long lawn. Is that a tennis court?

Dimitri stops at the gate, lowering his window. I see a small pad with a digital thumbprint shape on it. Before he pushes his thumb against it, he turns to me.

"Before we go in there, you need to know something…"

"I need to know a lot of stuff," I tell him.

"Yeah, but this is important. A woman is staying here. Her name is Mila. Before my father passed away, he arranged for me to marry her. He made a deal with her father. I'm trying to get out of it, but I just wanted to warn you."

His words slam into me so hard, it doesn't even make sense. Or maybe it's that I know it shouldn't make sense. I shouldn't let myself care so much about this stranger, this liar, but… No, I don't. I can't. Oh, hell. I almost wish I could turn back time before I met him, when the idea of him marrying another woman would've meant absolutely nothing to me. Even now, it shouldn't.

I try to hide my reaction, try to keep my voice calm.

"What sort of deal?" I say, , hoping he can't read my resentment. Resentment is probably an understatement. I don't know this woman, and yet I hate her for taking my man. My man? Get a grip, girl!

After everything that just happened, this should be at the bottom of my list of concerns.

"If I don't marry her in just over two weeks, her father will take over the city. He's going to flood it with drugs. He'll kidnap women and sell them into sex slavery. He's an evil bastard, but mostly, he's kept that shit in LA, but apparently, not anymore."

"So it's either marry her… or sacrifice the city?"

Dimitri nods grimly. "Like I said, I'm trying to get out of it."

"What if you can't?"

He frowns, and that tells me everything I need to know. But I still need him to say it.

"Well?" I snap.

He flinches, like my anger is surprising to him, which just makes me want to snap at him all over again. How can he pretend to be shocked that I'm mad, that I'm… jealous? As crazy as that sounds, that's the only word I can think of.

"I can't let this city burn," he growls. "But I can't marry her either."

"But if you had to choose?"

He looks at me with clear misery in his intense, captivating eyes. "I've spent my whole life ignoring what I want. Putting the city first. I can't change that now just because…"

He trails off, leaving me to imagine. Just because he cares about me? Just because he'd choose me if he had a choice? But he doesn't go on. I feel too deflated to keep snapping at him. I made a mistake—let myself care, let myself think maybe I could have a slice of happiness.

Now, for a little while, I just want to forget, disappear into my art, the only place the world makes any sense.

"We have to be careful," Dimitri says after a pause. "If my men see us getting too close and word gets back to Nikolai..."

"Nikolai?"

"My…" He swallows. "Mila's father."

"Your future wife's dad, you mean?"

"It would be bad," Dimitri grunts.

I almost tell him he doesn't need to worry. Our getting-close days are over. But I just can't force myself to cross that line.