Chapter Twelve: Andrei

I’ve been waiting for her too long already, and it’s already late afternoon. She can’t live at the university, and according to my own research online and calling the university, her last class finished a couple of hours ago.

I’ve got the time. I’m only going to go home and think about her, wanting to call, so I might as well confront her directly. It’s better. The local radio plays in the background as I consider driving off, but something holds me in place, keeping my eyeline of sight on the building in front of me. College students randomly spill out in different directions with their friends as cars slide in and away from the curb. It’s a busy school from what I can see, and I feel like a parent picking up a child for the day, but I don’t care. I’m drawn to her in a way I don’t understand, and that’s not good for a man like me. I just want to see her once.

She rejected me. It was a groundbreaking blow to my ego, and one I don’t like to dwell on. Does she not know what being Andrei Utkin means? I’m a man who can shoot her dead on sight. Head of the Bratva. No, she’s too na?ve to know. I want to find out why. I have to know.

Did she not enjoy her night of pleasure with me? Maybe she’s fucked up because I didn’t call her right away. Yes. That has to be it. Needy women. They’re all the fucking same. Demanding a relationship with me but only wanting the status of being a mob wife. Fucking bullshit I won’t fall for.

One girl with brown hair and the other with the same ginger hair Sophia possesses round the corner from the administration building, laughing together, changing the pace of my heart rate. Is it? The one with the ginger hair has the same bone structure as Sophia, making me slide up straight in my seat as I lay in wait in my SUV opposite the school. Shit. Frustrated, I slink back down in my seat realizing it’s not her.

Changing the radio station, I think back to the last time I had been so excited by a woman I wanted. My mind shifts through a movie in my head as I go through the many women I’ve had and discarded. No, I didn’t treat them badly, and they all wanted to stay with me, but I didn’t want them. Not for the long term anyway. I stop myself, drawing a blank when I realize, I’ve never been enamored with a woman before. Not like this….

Partly I think Bratva business leads me to mistrust, and Ryan hasn’t made it any better. So far, however, Sophia’s been everything that she told me she was and more. I let the old rock station keep me enthused for the next little while, growing impatient, until I finally spot her crossing over the lawn with short choppy strides.

What’s wrong my little orphan girl?

Her head’s down, her ginger hair swinging in the light breeze over her face so I can’t see the expression on it. She’s got a bunch of books in her arms. Ever the studious one. A gleam comes to my eye as I feel the smile stretching over my face, and a weird sensation emanates from my chest that I can’t describe. The tortoiseshell glasses are the giveaway.

Clicking off the radio, I watch as she walks the short distance to an old model x sedan, but from what I can tell, it has a new exhaust on it. Does she like cars? Sophia seems too serious the type to be into cars. I play the track back of my own thoughts wondering why I give a fuck what cars she likes. Taking my keys out of the ignition, I open my car door and slide out. I’m just about to cross the road to her when I notice another man hurriedly approaching her.

He’s tall, the professor type. Professional looking, clean-cut, and proper. It’s exactly the type of man I could imagine her with. Not the likes of me—a former thief who once collected rats for fun only to sling shot them against brick walls when I was little.

Sophia doesn’t know who I am. Not the depraved power-hungry man I truly am. If she did, she wouldn’t be talking to this guy. I can tell by the shine in his eye and his open body language that he likes her. It’s not just a chance meeting. He ran after her.

Heartburn strikes as my jaw tightens willing the guy to fuck off somewhere, but he doesn’t. She’s assessing him, and he looks like he’s inviting her to something. Somewhere… a place I don’t want her to go.

Fuck him off. Tell him no. The guy’s close enough for me to think he’s about to kiss her. Or at least lean in for a kiss on the cheek, bracing myself, I clench my fists, not knowing why I’m acting this way. I watch her expressions change and shift. It appears that she’s confused and thinking.

Whatever he’s telling you, say no. My chest rises and falls as I keep watch. Eventually Sophia nods, but she gets in her car ready to leave. As she enters her driver’s seat, I watch her turn over the ignition thinking about the guy as he walks away.

Cracking my knuckles, I assess the situation. Okay. I have competition. How many other men are there? Is this why she rejected me in the first place? A reel of obsession twirls in my head as I struggle with what I’ve seen. Pangs of jealousy fill me, and, on a whim, I slip back behind the wheel, screeching in a U-turn and following her car. My brows knit together as I clutch the wheel.

How dare she? I watch as she drifts through the traffic not realizing I’m behind her. She weaves behind a slow car as I accelerate. Panting, I wait to see if she’s seen me following her, but all I can see is the back of her head checking for when it’s safe to merge. Falling back, I love the beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

She does it for me, and the last time my heart hammered in my chest this way, I was seconds away from burying someone alive in an open grave. That’s not what I want to do to Sophia, though. I want a taste of her again, and I know there’s an obsessive feeling churning from within, and I don’t know why.

Melrose Park, Chicago, a middle-class suburbia region, and one I know well. That’s where Miss-Lawyer-to-be resides. It’s a contrast seeing that she has such a beat-up old rusty bucket of a sedan, but the ivy-drenched, colonial style building she lives in would indicate she’s well off to some.

She probably received an inheritance from her parents’ death, I reason. I slow to a crawl at the end of the street as she parks in front of the small block of brick apartments. I wait impatiently for her to step out of her car. Scrutinizing her from afar, I notice she takes her sweet time gathering her belongings as the blue hue of the Chicago sky blends into gray. Inching forward, I dare her not to look out the window as I stealthily park myself between two cars smack-bang in front of her apartment.

Hurry up. Do you have someone else to visit you? Fascinated with her life, I fabricate stories in my head about her. Does she have a new lover already? But when she gets out of the car, she wears the same forlorn look she had getting into it. She opens her front door, and I’m enjoying the view from outside. I watch her mouth part as she drops her bags on the table in relief before closing her curtains.

They’re old-style sheer curtains, so I can still see through them. She moves away from the window, and the light flicks on in the second room. Flames of dark desire torch a trail through my system as the movements of her silhouette transport me back to our night together on her couch.

Does the scent of our lovemaking still linger there? I bet she looks at it every day and wants me back on it. Salivating, I peep in as Sophia flicks her orange locks over her shoulder, a groan popping out of nowhere while I adjust my package. Fuck. What is she doing to me? Her hands start their unbuttoning process, the pulse in my neck throbbing hard as her shirt falls away, the outline of her breasts visible. Staring over the wheel, I glare along the street not wanting anyone else to enjoy the peep show the way I am. A guy walking his dog passes in front of her house but doesn’t look up or stop.

Smart man, because if you do look, I will have to beat you senseless. Strangely protective over her, I stare, remembering our sacred night together. A thirst for reliving that ancient memory drives my heartrate up while she unbuckles her belt, but before she does, her blind descends over the sheer curtains, souring my victory.

Fuck. Why couldn’t she let me watch? I’ve had calls from my regular sex partners—former call girls, women whom I’ve helped in the past. That’s always been enough to keep me topped up, but since my night with Sophia, I haven’t been the same man. There’s been no desire for anyone else, and when the dirty text messages land in my inbox, I don’t give a shit about them. In fact, I’ve ghosted most of the women, and they’re beginning to hate me.

This one… Sophia has my cock standing at full attention. I masturbate remembering about how tight she was. So willing. Wanting me. Thumping my head back on the headrest, I wait for something else to happen, but it doesn’t. The show’s over. I second-guess getting out of the car and going to see her. It’s tempting, but it’s likely she’ll slam the door in my face and probably call the police—the main thing I have to rein myself in.

As my windows fog up from the heat radiating outwards, I snap myself out of my delusion, cranking the car, reluctantly driving off, and willing myself not to turn around and bang on her door.

You’re obsessed, and this woman has you off your game. If you’re not careful you’re going to end up falling for her, and you’re a Bratva boss.

Losing your head over a female is a dangerous act. With all the willpower and resolve I have in me, I press my foot to the gas and drive away.