Chapter 14

Dalia

I 'm caught in a whirlwind of memories from that night—the adrenaline, the fear, the bikers, the guns, the screaming—they play over and over on repeat in my mind. I remember the sound of gunshots, the weight of Lev’s body shielding me, the feel of cold pavement against my skin.

It’s all so vivid, so terrifyingly alive in my mind.

Snap back to now. I'm sitting at my desk in the office, trying to catch up on a week's worth of missed work.

Vanya sits next to me in Lev’s place, going over some upcoming meetings, his voice steady and reassuring, but I’m barely holding it together. I scribble down notes, my handwriting shaky.

He pauses, glancing up with a knowing look. “You’re still shaken up about that night, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

“Yeah. You could say that.” I nod, swallowing hard. “How do you deal with it? The trauma?”

Vanya smiles sadly and taps his leg, the one supported by a cane. “We all carry our burdens,” he says softly. “But we learn, we adapt. You will too.”

I force a smile, grateful for his attempt to ease my mind. “Thanks, Vanya. I guess it’s just going to take some time.”

He nods understandingly. “Take all the time you need. We’re all here for you.”

I nod, his words making me feel a little better. Maybe he's right. Maybe I can get through this, just like he did. But for now, I need to focus on simply getting through today.

I try to turn my attention to the tasks at hand, but my mind keeps drifting. Vanya, catching on to my distraction, tilts his head and lowers his voice, “What’s really on your mind, Dalia?”

I hesitate, the secret of my pregnancy with Lev pressing against my lips, but I decide against sharing it. Too much, too soon. “I haven’t seen much of Lev lately,” I admit instead, trying to sound casual.

Vanya nods, understandingly. “He’s been tied up with clients, wining and dining, you know how it is. He should be back soon, though.”

He gives me a sly grin, teasing, “Why, do you miss him?”

I laugh, more out of relief than amusement, and shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe just a bit. He certainly makes the office more interesting.”

Vanya chuckles, tapping his cane lightly on the floor. “That he does. Lev tends to leave a void when he’s not around. But he’ll be back before you know it, stirring up trouble and making your days less predictable.”

I smile, grateful for the lighthearted tone of our talk. It's nice, the normalcy of it, even if just for a moment. “I guess I’m getting used to that certain something he brings.”

“Sounds like you’re fonder of him than you let on,” Vanya observes, raising an eyebrow.

I wave him off, but the warmth in my chest tells me he’s not wrong.

He gets up, pushing his chair back with a thoughtful nod. "Let's wrap this up for now. Whatever's left can wait for an email, right?" he suggests with a gentle smile. He pauses at the edge of my desk, his expression softening. "And Dalia, if you ever need someone to talk to about that night or anything else, I'm here."

"Thanks, Vanya," I manage, genuinely grateful for his support.

As he walks away, my mind wanders back to Lev. Things have shifted between us and it's unsettling. There's no proposal, no ring, nothing concrete.

The night of the attack, he was my rock, but now, he's distant, almost absent. What's going on with him? Why the sudden coldness?

It's been a whole week since Lev dropped that bombshell about marriage, and he's been as elusive as a ghost. Each day drags on, leaving me to wonder if his comforting words that night were just a knee-jerk reaction to what happened, or if he's having second thoughts.

I rest my hand on my belly, still in disbelief that I'm actually pregnant. The whole idea of becoming a mom is overwhelming, and I have no idea how I’m going to break the news to my parents. I mentally kick myself for being so careless with birth control.

I need some answers soon. This waiting game is driving me up the wall, and with a baby on the way, I don't have the luxury of time to waste on uncertainties.

I definitely need a break from my spinning thoughts so I head out of my office toward the break room, aiming for some much-needed tea. Just as I walk in, I spot Vladimir closing his laptop, his eyes lighting up a bit when he sees me.

“Care to join me for a coffee?” he asks, already rising from his seat.

“Actually, tea for me,” I reply, sliding into a chair opposite him.

He raises an eyebrow, then asks, “What kind?”

I shrug, feeling a bit out of my depth. “Something calming.”

He gives me a look that makes me feel like he's reading more into my words than I intended. He reaches for the box of chamomile tea and pulls out a bag.

“Chamomile,” he explains as he heats the water, “is good for relaxation. Might help with any stress you're dealing with.”

The way he says it, so casually yet pointedly, makes me wonder just how much he’s picked up from our little interaction. I nod, grateful for the suggestion, and watch as he carefully prepares the tea, his movements precise and practiced.

“You sure know what you’re doing,” I say.

As Vladimir carefully pours the steaming water over the tea bag, he speaks. “My mother used to brew tea whenever she felt stressed," he begins, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Back in Moscow, she was the pillar of our household, never allowing any worry show—especially in front of my brothers and me."

He chuckles lightly, continuing. "As a single mother, she had a lot on her plate. But the one tell she had was her tea. Whenever I saw her with a cup, I knew things were weighing on her."

With a playful grin, he adds, "That was my cue to ease up on the mischief. Well, for a little while at least."

He hands me the mug of tea, the steam curling up gently.

"Maybe it's a bit of inherited wisdom, handing you this cup," he says, smiling, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that's both comforting and slightly piercing.

I wrap my hands around the warm mug, grateful for the story and the tea. "Thanks, Vladimir," I say, smiling back.

He gives me a knowing nod. "You're welcome," he replies, then falls silent for a moment as he stirs his coffee. With a half-smile, he continues, "You know, my mother also taught me never to pry into a woman's affairs, but I must confess, I never quite mastered that lesson."

He leans forward slightly, his expression turning serious. "How are you doing after what happened at the gala? It was quite a night."

I take a moment, sipping the tea to gather my thoughts before answering. "Honestly, I'm more worried about Lev than anything. It's been a lot to process."

Vladimir chuckles softly, his gaze thoughtful. "Don’t worry about him. Lev is tough. Trust me, what we saw the other night was child's play compared to some things he’s faced. But" he pauses, his voice softening, "he's been quite concerned about you, Dalia. He talks of little else."

A warmth spreads through me at his words; comforting, yet tinged with the complexity of my feelings about Lev. "That's reassuring to hear," I admit, allowing myself a small smile. "Thanks, Vladimir. It means a lot knowing that."

"Well, Dalia, since we’re chatting like old pals now, just call me Vlad," he says with an easy grin.

“Ok, Vlad, in that case, what can you tell me about all these things he’s faced? I know he was in the military, but the way the whole family reacted that night…” I trail off.

Vlad nods. “That really is something you should hear from Lev himself,” he says.

I groan, frustrated. “Yes, in a perfect world, but he’s been pretty scarce lately. If I’m going to stick around, do I need to be worried about the threat of another shootout? Please Vlad, help me out here.”

He thinks for a moment before speaking. “Lev’s family is part of a very old tradition in Russia.”

“Are you being cryptic on purpose?” I ask him.

He offers a smile. “The Ivanovs are a Bratva.”

The word sounds vaguely familiar. “Bratva?”

“Yes. Much like the Italian mafia, Russians also have powerful families, and the Ivanovs are among the most powerful of them all.”

The puzzle pieces start clicking into place. “Ah, I see.”

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Sensing my unease, Vlad goes on. “We are not criminals. We own businesses, legitimate ones, and try to give back to our community. The Bratva is a brotherhood, and we protect our own.”

I nod, urging him to continue.

"Here in Chicago, the Ivanov family is top dog. That should mean things are calm, stable. But apparently, someone's got an itch to stir the pot if that insanity the other night was any indication."

He leans in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a state secret. "And trust me, in this game, it's all about keeping your friends close and your enemies on speed dial. Sounds like someone's looking to reshuffle the deck."

His casual mention of espionage reminds me of all those twisty mob plots in the movies, except this is real life, and somehow, I’ve found myself in a supporting actress role.

"Between trying to decode Lev and dodging bullets, I think I've accidentally signed up for a spy thriller, not a job."

Vladimir nods solemnly. "What we witnessed the other night, Dalia, was a horrendous violation of Bratva code. Civilians, especially those uninvolved directly, are off-limits. Whoever orchestrated that stunt has essentially signed their own death warrant in our world."

He takes a sip of his coffee, his expression hardening. "Lev made me promise to spare you the gritty details, but you should know—he’s been scouring every corner of Chicago since the attack. He's hell-bent on unmasking whoever dared disrupt our peace."

I lean in, soaking up every word. It's like a window has become slightly ajar into Lev’s world, one that I've only glimpsed through veiled curtains until now. "So, that's where he’s been all week? Hunting ghosts in the underworld?"

"Exactly," Vladimir confirms. "It’s not just about retaliation; it’s about sending a message that the Ivanovs will not be challenged without consequence. He's determined, perhaps more than I've seen him in years. It’s a side of him that takes no prisoners."

He sets his cup down, his gaze meeting mine with intensity. "I know this world is new to you, and frankly, it’s not one I’d wish on anyone who values peace of mind over constant vigilance. But here you are, and here it is. Lev’s world is not just one of boardrooms and stock exchanges alone; it’s woven with loyalty, honor, and, at times, necessary brutality."

"I appreciate you filling me in. It helps a little, I guess."

"Lev is genuinely looking out for you. But, you know," he continues, his tone dipping into something a bit more solemn, "if you ever think this gig—or this crazy world—is too much, Lev would understand. He really would."

I let out a laugh, a bit sharper than I intended. "Bit late for that now," I say more to myself than to him.

He cocks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my offhand remark.

Realizing I might've let too much slip, I quickly add, "I just mean, I’m already in deep, might as well see how the whole story unfolds, right?"

Vlad nods, though it's clear he's not totally buying it. "Well, if you need an out, remember you’ve got options," he says earnestly.

I stand up, feeling the need to escape before I really spill the beans. "Thanks for the tea, and the ear, Vlad. It helped more than you know," I say, putting on my best smile.

He returns the smile, warm yet tinged with a bit of concern. "Anytime, Dalia. Take care of yourself."

I make my way out, my thoughts racing faster than my heels can carry me.

Two things are crystal clear: my feelings for Lev are as messed up and complicated as ever, and there’s a new life on board for this wild ride I’ve found myself on.