Chapter Sixteen: Andrei

I sit back in the hotel chair, bouncing my leg as I wait for the information to come through on my laptop. The illuminated screen stares back at me. It’s been half an hour too long, and if I don’t have what I want in the next fifteen minutes, heads will roll. I want that footage. Yesterday.

Twisting my watch around on my wrist to kill time, the killer red dress she entered the room in seeps into my brain. How could she wear that with all the wolves in the room? So many of them used the Bratva for their protection services and cover-ups. We did their dirty work, and we made shit go away in a hurry in one of two ways. Money or death. Of course they have to keep their hands clean.

“Off my wife, she wants a divorce, and I can’t have her taking my earnings. I’ve worked too hard for it.” This coming from the voice of a powerful attorney in New York who couldn’t be named. Apparently, Dimitri had a soft spot for the wife since he was having fun with her for a while. He gave her a large lump sum deposit and she hightailed it back to Europe, starting her own jewelry empire.

“We need a bag of cash for this judge. He’s not going to budge on the indictment otherwise.” I knew about the district attorney of New York through Dimitri, and the Chicago branch of the Bratva kept close connections. I knew she incarcerated innocent men to reach the top, and what she had to do to stay at the top.

The little lamb in the red dress doesn’t know what caliber of people she’s dealing with. She’s going to find herself in a hole so deep that she won’t have the capability to dig herself out. If she’s sleeping with the guy, I vow to get him out of the picture, and I’m willing to go to whatever lengths I need to. She’ll thank me later because he’s probably done it before. My thoughts climb into darker and darker territory as I wait for the email to come through.

“Come on, it can’t be taking you that long to get the footage.” I know Sophia’s staying at the hotel because I paid the hotel security enough to cover six months of his wage.

I can’t rein in my obsessive train of thought and have to stand up and pace the room so as not to hurl a lamp across it. What the fuck is she doing here with him? She has to be fucking him, and he’s offering her something. There can’t be any other reason. An instant flash of him holding his hand to the small of her back floats up. The same hand I held in the same spot, except when I did it, she acted as if I had leprosy.

Fuming and close to my wits end, out of the corner of my eye, my computer screen lights up as I watch the new email come in from the hotel. Marching over to it, I open it, seeing it has a link attached. A diabolical grin crosses my face.

You can’t run from me, Sophia. I’ve got eyes on you everywhere you go.

Clicking the CCTV link, which is live, I see nothing but the hallway of her floor. A few other people coming and going from their rooms, but that’s all. He might be already in her room. I scroll back in the feed, starting from half an hour ago. That’s when I saw the tail end of her dress as she entered the elevator with the smug prick.

Where is it? My chest tightens, but I’m thankful the picture quality is crystal clear as I find what I’m looking for. I watch Sophia enter her room first. And as I watch my heart knocks harder inside my chest. From the footage I can see him head in the opposite direction, but my hand slaps on the table as he stands for a second in the middle of the hall after she closes the door. He’s plotting a way. I knew that’s what he was doing. He wouldn’t just leave someone as unassumingly captivating as Sophia to her own devices in her room by herself. No, the people in that charity gala room are depraved, and I know it. Hell, I wouldn’t leave her in her own room either.

Nothing happens for a good five minutes as I grow frustrated, speeding the footage up. Ten minutes later, my findings are validated. I see him, the guy I hate, walking down the hall to her room, knocking on her door. Fucking prick. He brought her here to sleep with her. Just as I thought. Clenching down on my jaw, I watch as she stupidly opens the door, the fire in my soul near burning a hole through my chest as I see him enter her room.

Clicking off the email, I close my laptop, jealousy consuming me in a white-hot rage. She wants him and not me. I don’t think twice, grabbing my hotel keycard and leaving out, stalking down the hall the short distance to her room.

It’s when I arrive at her room door that I realize what I’m doing, stopping myself for a second, I hover, feelings of derangement calling for me to turn around and go back to my room. She could be in there with him now. He could be thrusting himself into her, taking over what’s mine. Balling up my fists and releasing them, I hold my spot at the door, about to knock as the thoughts ramp up again.

Fucking him… moaning like she did with me on her couch. Craning my head to the door to hear any sound, I rest my head on it, not caring if anybody sees me. All the muscles in my body clench when I hear her cry out slightly.

“Stop! Chris, I asked you to stop!” Slamming my shoulder into the door with the anger contained inside me, I feel the wood split. Adrenaline fires through me as I aim my foot at the lock kicking it with full force. I know what I heard. Sophia’s in trouble, and all I can see is red. The lock of the door bends, the door springing open as I find the fucker I knew I hated on top of her with his hand down Sophia’s shorts. He has her pinned in such a move that she can’t move, but see she’s trying.

The guy stands, his face full of confused rage that his little afterparty has been interrupted. I notice how hard his cock is bulging through his slacks. The bubbling rage cools to cold ice as I square up with him, seeing the terror on Sophia’s face as she scrambles out from underneath him to safety.

“What the fuck do you want?” he shouts, close to five paces away from me.

Ripping the lamp cord from the wall, I grin at him, taking said lamp and walking closer. The guy’s face is wracked with confusion as I raise my arm and swing the lamp’s base against the side of his head. There’s a loud crack, but I don’t want him knocked out just yet. I want him to suffer. Blood trickles as he touches the side of his head, dazed by the blow.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He falls back temporarily, recovering enough to get up and swing, but I block the punch, cracking a hook across his jaw. His head swings like a hinge sideways as I connect, closing the gap between us, feeling good as I work a crick out of my neck.

“Asshole!” I spit out as he stumbles back against the suite wall, right where I want him.

“Who the fuck are you!” he yells out in pain. “Get the hell out of this room!” I grin at him, shaking my head, and putting a finger to his mouth as I grip the scruff of his neck, wrapping the cord of the lamp around it, and squeezing.

“I’m your worst fucking nightmare,” I breathe on his face. “That’s who the fuck I am. You like that?” He touched her without her permission and now he has to pay for what he’s done.

He catches me slightly off guard, punching me in the gut, but his punch is as weak as water. I bypass his next weak attempts as he tries with all his might to get the cord from around his neck. I drop the lamp, needing both hands, slapping him twice across the cheeks for fun, saliva flying from his mouth.

“What the fuck—” Each time the blows I deliver are shocking enough to stop him. I stomp on his foot hard enough to destabilize him, taking the opportunity to pull my special pocketknife out of my pocket and stab it into the center of his palm, pinning it to the wall, sticking it there. The dumb guy winces and whimpers, his hand spasming as the blood runs.

“Ah, this is fine, isn’t it? So nice.” I grind out in his ear, sticking the knife deeper in, feeling it cut into the tendons, and close to the bones. He yelps in pain, his face contorted, his body wanting to slump, but he can’t because now I have him pinned in place.

“Please, take it out. Please. Please. Please,” the guy begs, and I take great delight in the fact he’s probably about to shit his pants. I keep moving the knife, watching the blood drip down his wrist. His hand is changing colors, and the best thing is I haven’t even gotten started yet. This is the movie premiere.

“Did you touch her with this hand, you grimy bitch? Or was it with this one? I need to know.”

“Take it, take it,” he asks, not able to finish his sentence, expelling thin breaths, but I’m going to kill him. It’s almost as fun as pulling Ryan’s fingernails off in the abandoned basement. This is what happens when you try to take what’s mine. Grinding the knife in one more time for kicks, I wrench it out of his hand, watching the dumb prick drop his hand as I get ready to stab him in the ribs and begin the process of ending his life.

A grip around my waist is the only thing that stops me. It’s Sophia hugging me from behind, sobbing. “Andrei, please, don’t do it,” she pleads, and, in the moment, I understand I was wrong about her. She might have a tough outer shell, but she has a soft heart. She doesn’t have it in her to watch her assailant being killed. While she’s holding me back, the guy has the chance to crawl away, holding his hand with blood dripping along the carpet as he runs out the door.

I bend down a little as she sobs, crumpling herself in a ball on the floor. “What did I tell you? You’re too na?ve.” Infuriated and my veins chockful of adrenaline, I take a deep breath staring down at the edge of her camisole, which is torn. I ignore the fact I can see the outline of her nipples through it. This isn’t the time for that.

Sophia continues sobbing hysterically, her body shaking as I hover over her. “Get up,” I direct plainly. “You’re coming with me to sleep in my room tonight.” She listens, looking up at me through her tear-soaked lashes, shakily rising to her feet. She can listen to instructions. I take her hand, firmly gripping it and making her walk out of the room. With all the commotion, you would think other guests in the hotel heard it, but no one comes out. They’re all in their own rooms, oblivious to Sophia’s cries at the hands of an opportunist. If I didn’t come to rescue her, God knows what he would have done to her. Angry all over again, I clutch her hand tighter, staring at the blood spots in the carpet as we go, thinking about where I can find this bastard after this to end him.

I’ll get him later. Get her to the room. That’s all.

Sliding my hotel key card in its slot, I open the door and guide her into my room. “Thank you,” she murmurs quietly, her emerald eyes speaking volumes.

“You’re going to stay here, and you’re leaving with me back to Chicago.” She nods submissively. There’s only one large king-size bed to share.

“I’ll sleep on the couch over there,” Sophia declares lightly.

“No. You can sleep in the bed, it’s big enough. We’ve shared a couch before, so I don’t think sleeping in the bed together is going to be a stretch.” I snicker as Sophia holds my gaze for a quiet second, and I want to tell her she’s safer here than anywhere else, but sensing this, she silently climbs into the bed, peeling back the covers, her face filled with something like relief. “I’m going to take a shower.

Part of my shirt is splattered with blood, but it’s not a sight I haven’t dealt with many a time before. As the spray hits my back and I let the water cascade over my hair, I think about what would have happened. Sophia, my orphan girl, you are too na?ve to the evils of this world. I turn the knob watching the river of red run down the drain, relieved I was there in time.

Refreshed partially, I dry off, only adding my boxers and heading back in to find Sophia sleeping. Sliding in beside her, I keep my distance, resisting the urge to spoon her. This isn’t the time or place for it. Shifting a hand behind my head and winding down from the event, I hear the sheets rustle beside me. She’s not asleep like I thought she was. Her head lifts onto the pillow as her emerald eyes question, seeking answers.

“How did you know?” she asks in a meek voice, creased lines rippling on her forehead.

“I’ve always had eyes on you, Sophia. From the day I met you.”

And there’s no escape from the Bratva once you’re in….