Chapter 20

Dalia

I step out of my apartment, suitcase in hand, and pause for one last look around.

This place hasn't been mine for long, but it was mine . Now, I'm about to move in with Lev, a man who's as enigmatic as he is intense.

With a deep, settling sigh, I flick off the lights, the final click echoing slightly, marking the end of an era, however brief it might’ve been.

Downstairs, the lobby is unusually quiet—eerily so. Normally, the friendly doorman would give me a wave, but today, there's no one there. My footsteps echo off the polished marble as I approach the exit, but before I can reach the door, a man emerges from a side hallway. His presence startles me, and his next words stop me cold.

"We need to talk.”

He stands there stoically, a striking figure with long blonde hair and sharp, Slavic features that could have walked straight out of a Cold War spy novel. His blue eyes burn with an intensity that pins me in place, unsettling yet magnetic.

Tall and undeniably commanding, he carries himself with a calm assurance.

"I'm Alexei Plushenko," he declares, making the silence of the lobby even more profound. "We need to talk—it's a matter of life and death."

His melodramatic flair makes me arch an eyebrow. "Life and death? That's quite the entrance line. Planning on auditioning for a spy thriller anytime soon?"

He cracks a smirk but remains earnest. "Believe me, I'd prefer a less cliché circumstance myself, but here we are." Alexei opens his hands, palms out. "I come in peace."

Stepping back, I cross my arms, not ready to drop my guard or buy into his apparent truce. "Alright, peace emissary, let's hear it then. What brings you to my soon-to-be-former doorstep?"

His eyes flicker with a hint of admiration—or is it amusement?—at my standoffishness. "It’s about Lev Ivanov," he begins.

With those four words, all traces of my mocking tone fades, and I’m instantly on edge.

"I'm here alone, Dalia, and there are security cameras all around. You're in no danger from me."

I sigh, his assuring words not quite dispelling the sense of exposure that prickles my skin. There's something about Alexei, though, a sincerity beneath his measured calm, which nudges my instincts toward trust.

"Go on," I prompt, more intrigued than I care to admit.

His smile is slight, evidently pleased with my guarded acceptance. "As I said, it's about Lev, or rather, all of the Ivanovs. Each one of you has a target on your back."

I frown, my heart tightening. "What do you mean? I’m not an Ivanov."

He leans closer, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves might be listening. "There are forces at work, powerful ones, aiming to take down the top family in Chicago. And since you're associated with them," he pauses, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine, "you're now at risk, too."

The revelation hits hard, the air around me feeling suddenly thick. I've only just begun to know the Ivanovs and already the shadows of their world are creeping in to affect my life.

I stare at him, frustration mounting. "I need clarity, Alexei. No more riddles or half-truths. Tell me what you know."

He sighs wearily. "I understand your need for clear answers, Dalia. My people are still trying to piece everything together. It's a tangled web, and I don't want to mislead you with incomplete information. But this much is clear—you are in danger."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He steps closer, his presence imposing yet oddly reassuring. "I am, in many ways, like the Ivanovs. I adhere to the Bratva code. I have no interest in seeing an innocent caught in the crossfire. It goes against everything I stand for."

His words, sincere and firm, carve through my defenses. There's an earnestness in his eyes that softens the harsh lines of his serious expression.

"I can protect you," he adds.

As Alexei steps forward, a sudden instinctual alertness flares within me, compelling me to recoil. I raise my hands defensively, creating space between us.

"Don't come any closer.”

His lips purse, and he halts, respecting my boundary. "I understand you're already under the Ivanov’s protection," he acknowledges. "But in times like these, you can never be too careful."

He pauses, his gaze intensifying. "Big changes are coming to Chicago, and sometimes with change comes danger."

As he speaks, his hand rises slowly, moving toward his inner coat pocket. My heart hitches, fear prickling at the base of my neck as I brace for the worst. Is he going to pull out a gun? Is threatening me his true intention?

But then, his hand emerges, holding not a weapon, but a small, white business card. He holds it out toward me, his movements deliberate and open, designed to show no threat.

"My information is on this card, including a direct line. If you need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to call me."

Despite my initial hesitance, something in his earnest tone compels me to take the card. My fingers brush against his as I accept it, and a slight jolt of tension passes between us.

I glance at the card, confirming it holds his contact details, and quickly tuck it away into the inner pocket of my purse.

He nods. "I'll take my leave now, but please, stay safe," he urges, before turning and walking away, leaving me alone in the lobby once more.

As soon as he disappears, I let out a massive rush of air, not realizing I had been holding my breath. Tension slowly drains from my shoulders.

Just then, my phone buzzes with a new message. It's Elena, telling me she's on her way to the tapas place. I type a quick reply, telling her I'll be there as soon as I drop off my bag at Lev’s.

With a renewed sense of urgency, I adjust my grip on my suitcase and head toward the door. The weight of the card presses against my side, a reminder of the web of danger slowly tightening around my new life.