Chapter 24

Viktor

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“I think it’s probably best if we go to my mom’s,” Vera says over coffee the next day. “She’s supposed to be getting back from her trip today and will be able to go over the final guest list.”

“I think that's a good idea. Have you asked Lydia?”

“No,” Vera says, frowning. “I thought she was with you.” I look around the room as if she might suddenly materialize out of thin air. Of course she isn't here.

I would know.

Where the hell is she?

“Supposed to?” Nikko says with a frown from the couch.

“Vera, I thought she was with you,” I snap. “Where is she?” The next thing I know, Nikko is in my face. “Talk to my wife that way again,” he snarls.

I shove him back. “Step down, brother.”

“Boys, boys, settle down,” Lydia says, coming around the corner. “What the hell is going on?”

“Prince Charming was losing his loving mind because he couldn't find you,” Nikko retorts.

After what happened last night, I half expected her to try to escape. Not that she'd have an easy time of it, with the guards at every exit, the surveillance on her, and the tracker she doesn't know about yet.

I told her last night, when I had her bent over the table, fucking her senseless, that I was tracking her. But she probably assumes it's just the tracker on her phone.

“I was checking on Nikita,” she says. “So sue me.”

I catch her eyes, blazing with anger. “Don't even think about it,” she warns.

“Think about what?” I challenge, rising and walking over to her.

She only narrows her eyes at me. “I'm not gonna leave without telling you, okay? I was just checking on Nikita, so relax.”

“I was saying we should go to Mom's,” Vera says. “That way, we can talk to her about the final details and solidify everything for this wedding. Have you seen her since you and Viktor got engaged?”

“No, we've texted a few times and talked on the phone, but I haven't seen her in person.”

“We fully expect an attack from the Ledyanoye Bratstvo,” Nikko says. “Are you girls prepared for that?”

“Yes, of course,” Vera says. “Lydia?”

“Of course,” she snaps, pounding her fist in her hand. “I hope he brings it.”

In our recent self-defense class, I showed her how to use a knife. It’s not too hard if you know what you're doing and you're not afraid to slice through muscle and veins.

“I want more practice with my knife,” she says. “Is there any way to do that?”

“Got a place near our headquarters called The Hidden Mark. It’s a private place with dummies we use for knife work. It’s secluded and on the way.”

“Yes, perfect. Can we go there before we head to Mom's?”

“She texted me this morning and said she was there,” Vera says. “It was a strange message, though. Have you talked to her?”

I give her a sharp look. “Maybe she's just distracted about the wedding. She's been planning a wedding for Lydia with such detail—” Vera stops mid-sentence, her cheeks coloring. She was going to say more, but we do not need to discuss Lydia's previous engagement.

“I'm going to send a car out there to check on her,” I decide.

Nikko is still glaring at me, probably because I raised my voice to Vera. Jesus, it's not Vera I have a problem with; it's anything that threatens the safety of Lydia. I’d think he’d get that.

“You get your fucking boxers out of your ass and chill,” I tell Nikko. He takes a step toward me, and Lydia shakes her head.

“Stop,” she says warningly. Nikko still advances on me. I grab him by the front of the shirt, lift him up, and casually place him back in the living room. “I said sit down, Nikko.”

“Call Lev,” he snaps.

“Are you guys always like this? These pissing matches. Honest to God!” Lydia throws her hands up in the air.

Vera pipes up. “I’ve heard they even fight about who has more kids than the other ones.”

“Well, that's easy. Knock me up with triplets, and we'll blow everybody out of the water,” Lydia says to me.

Not a bad idea.

I punch the button on my phone, and Lev answers. “We're heading over to The Hidden Mark. I want you to check in on Zofia. You'll get there before we do because we have a quick stop first. Can you do that for me?”

“I'm not there, brother. Mikhail sent me to Manhattan for the day.”

“Shit. Aleks. He probably can.”

“Maybe we should skip the range and just go straight to Mom's,” Lydia suggests.

“She hasn't answered the phone?” I ask.

“No,” Lydia says. “She never answers her phone or texts. She's kind of a… what do you call it? Someone who hates technology.”

“Luddite,” Vera supplies. “Oh wait, I just got a text from her,” Vera says. “She says everything's fine, don't worry about me. I'll be out here all day. When are you coming? Love, Mom.”

She shrugs. “Sounds like Mom.”

We head down to the range where we train and have large stuffed dummies suitable for knife practice. We go over everything again and again until she's panting, her face red with the exertion. “How did I do?” she asks, her eyes fierce.

“I'm proud of you. If anyone comes to attack you and you have your knife on you, they don't stand a chance.”

“On me? How do we do that, by the way?”

“I can get a little harness strapped to your leg, a sheath that goes in the small of your back, or you… there are lots of options, and we can use more than one if you'd like.”

“Yeah, I would like that.”

As we head out, an alarm sounds.

“What?” she asks, giving me a wary look. She doesn't trust me at all after last night. Not at all.

“Metal detector.”

“Everybody has to have their weapons checked. But it doesn't make sense that it’s going off,” Lydia says. “You're holding the knives, not me. I don't have any on me.”

Fuck. It’s her tracker.

She looks at the display that shows what’s causing the alarm to go off.

I note the second she realizes. The second she knows.

“It’s pointing to my neck. It's that thing at my neck that I thought was a bug bite, isn't it? Isn't it!” she demands.

“Look, hate me later. Scream at me, whatever. We have to go to your mom's, and I want to be sure that you're safe. Don't do anything fucking stupid.”

“Nice double standard, Mr. Romanov,” she snarls. “‘Don't do anything stupid,’ but it's totally fine for you to install something in my neck like I'm a dog? When did you do this?”

“When I first got you,” I say between clenched teeth.

“When you… got me? It's really like I'm a dog. Viktor!”

“No, it isn’t, Lydia,” I say, losing patience.

“This isn't normal! This isn't okay.”

“I'll take it out once we have the ex in custody.”

“No!” She claws at her neck, her fingernails digging into her skin. Blood bubbles to the surface. “Do you know what it feels like having some kind of foreign object in your body? Are you crazy?”

I move closer to her, her smaller body cast in shadow next to mine. “Calm down, Lydia,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. “You're safe with me.”

She looks up at me, her mouth open. “Safe? How can I be safe when you put this… this thing inside me?” Her eyes blaze with anger, her hands clenched into fists, trembling as she reaches for her neck and tries to claw at it again.

I reach out, but she flinches and turns away from me. “You say everything is about my protection, but maybe this is your control. Have you thought of that, Viktor?” Her voice drips with sarcasm and fury. She backs away from me, her eyes darting toward the door, clearly weighing her chances of escaping.

“Both,” I admit, my voice low and rough. “You don't understand the danger you're in. You're a smart girl, but your former fiancé is a lot more than a narcissistic bastard. He's deadly. We don't know what his plans are for you, and I don't want to take a single risk of anyone, especially him, hurting you. At this point, he wants you out of sheer vengeance.”

Her breath comes in short bursts. “You mean you won't let anybody but you control me.” She shakes her head, laughing bitterly.

I clench my jaw. “I'm the only one who cares about keeping you alive.”

She grits her teeth, her cheeks flaming as hot as the fires she’s obsessed with. “This isn't about you caring about me. You're obsessed. Who keeps a napkin, Viktor?”

I take another step forward. “Call it what you like. You know where we stand. You know I know you better than anybody.”

Her eyes narrow. “You think you know me. But do you really?”

“I would if you let me in.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, her body taut with defiance. “I would rather burn, Viktor.”

I give one sharp shake of my head, my patience waning. The room is thick with tension, our battle of wills evident. This is how it will always be with us—thunderstorms and fire, volcanoes and eruptions. But that's who we are.

“Viktor,” she says, her voice softening. “I know you need to protect me. I know what happened to your sister.”

I look away, not meeting her eyes. I don't know who told her, but I wouldn't have withheld it from her. I just wasn't ready. “I can't be controlled like this. I feel like I'm caged.”

I give her a dark look. “That can be arranged.”

Despite her anger, I know by the way her pupils dilate and she clutches at her collarbone, pink rising on her cheeks, that she likes this. She might fight me, but she needs this.

So do I.

“It feels like you're suffocating me,” she says in a soft voice.

I take a step closer to her, wrapping my hand around the front of her throat and tightening it. “Like this?” I say, my voice a growl. Beneath her fear and anger, a small part of her is drawn to this intensity, the raw, primal need I have for her. It's dark, dangerous, and twisted, and it scares her, but she craves us.

“Don't distract me,” she says, but it's a last-ditch effort. She wants this. I know she does.

My mouth slams on hers with a punishing kiss. I tighten my hand on her throat until she is gasping for breath and only release it when her mouth opens. She moans into my mouth, trying to push me away, but I tighten my grip, grab her ass, and squeeze her while I pull her into me. When we pull away, we are both panting.

I reach down and gently brush my thumb over her hardened nipple. “This isn't over, Viktor. You can't distract me with sex.”

“I'm not trying to distract you with sex, but I'm also not going to pretend that I don't want this as much as you do.”

“I'm not marrying you until you take this out of me.”

“I'm not taking it out of you until he is dead in the fucking grave.” We stare at each other in a battle of wills.

“You don’t own me,” she snaps.

I shake my head in grim determination. “We'll see about that.”

“God, you seem to think the best thing is to find him and fuck him up,” I tell her. “Then we can both sleep in peace.”

She throws her hands up in the air. “Will we, though? What about the next threat? What about the next person who wants to hurt me? What are you gonna do then, bubble wrap me? Chain me to the floor?”

She glares at me, and I glare right back. “I will chain you to the fucking floor if that's what it takes.”

“Hot, Viktor,” she says through gritted teeth. “That’s not toxic at all.”

“Woman…”

I bend her head back and kiss her, silently pleading for her to give in. To understand. To accept.

But when I pull away, she doesn’t meet my eyes.

Have I gone too far?

We meet Nikko and Vera outside the range, Nikko giving me a wary look. He hasn't forgiven me for not talking to his wife the way he thinks I should. He can kiss my ass.

I am in a fucking mood, and so is Lydia. I reach for her hand, and she yanks it away. Vera's eyebrows rise in mild surprise, but I only open the door to the car, and as Lydia starts to climb in, I slap her ass, hard. .

“Hey!” she exclaims. I lean in and kiss her cheek.

“Behave yourself. You're not letting this come between us.”

She gets into the car and shuts the door. Vera chatters on about plans for the wedding, and Lydia participates, but I can tell she is reserved.

I don't know how to explain to her what it means to me to have her with me. I don't know how to explain to her how important it is that I keep her safe. I don't know if her objections hold a candle to what I certainly know to be true.

“Your mother wants to know if you want any candles at the reception,” Vera says, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Yes,” Lydia and I say in unison. Vera smirks. Lydia turns away, looking out the window.

“Do you want a photographer?”

“No,” we both snap in unison. Lydia blows out a breath and sulks, but I crack a smile as Vera jots it down on her phone.

“Music? Do you want music?”

“Music would be nice,” Lydia says. “And Viktor would probably say?—”

“I don't care. Do what you want.”

“That’s what I was going to say you’d say,” she mutters.

“Music it is,” Vera says, jotting it down.

She turns away from me, looking out the window. The drive to her family home is mostly quiet until we get a few miles away.

“Do you remember how we used to throw rocks at that little pond behind the house?” she asks Vera as she traces the edge of the door lock with her fingernail. “And how Mom would get so mad because our clothes would get all mud-streaked and stained.”

“Hard to forget,” Vera says with a smile. She turns her head to speak to Lydia over her shoulder. “Mom didn’t care so much; it was Father who’d lose his mind.”

“Mmm.” Lydia nods. “And we didn’t want him to yell at her, so we started wearing those smocks when we went down to the river. Remember?”

Vera laughs out loud. “Oh my God, I do remember. How could I forget? You told Mom it was for an art project.”

I shake my head. “Causing trouble even then.” I squeeze her knee, but she still doesn’t look at me.

If we were alone right now, I wonder what she’d say.

Curious, I pull out my phone.

You still pissy with me?

You make it sound like it’s my fault.

Now you’re assigning motives. For real? Okay, are you still angry?

Yes, Viktor. I am still angry. You have tagged me like I’m an animal, and you aren’t the least bit repentant. It hurts badly. It makes me think you’re no better than the vindictive asshole I ran from.

I grip my phone so hard my knuckles whiten.

I am nothing like him!

She sighs.

So you say.

I love you! He only wanted to use you

And you don’t want to use me?

of course not

You make me feel betrayed and claustrophobic

I glare at the phone, unsure of how I’m going to respond when she shoves her phone in her pocket.

Guess that conversation’s over. I’m trying to keep my head on straight, trying to see things from her perspective.

How do I make her feel free… while keeping her safe? It’s a conundrum I can’t quite get my head around.

I shake my head and don’t meet her eyes for long moments as we drive toward her family home. I’m checking in our rearview mirrors, checking my phone.

I can’t shake the feeling we’re being followed, but that’s afflicted me for so long it’s almost become routine.

“We’re almost there,” Vera says with a smile. “I’m glad you’re coming back with me, Lydia. We’ve missed you.” Nikko reaches over and tweaks an errant lock of hair. “And I suppose it isn’t that bad coming back home with my husband in tow.” She giggles to herself. “The first time I met him—which was the last time we were here together, I thought he was Jason Bourne plucked straight out of the novels, turned Russian. I didn’t know he spoke English.”

“That was intentional,” Nikko says with a smirk.

Lydia shakes her head, clearly judging Nikko. She doesn’t know the half of it.

And look how they turned out.

At least by now, she hasn’t demanded she have distance and stormed out on me, but it seems like she’s one step away from doing exactly that.

We pull up outside her home. I know it well, as our family didn’t move away from this city until my father began planting roots in The Cove. This was where her family grew up, though. What’s familiar to her.

I know the front yard is where she’d sit when her father was on her case and she needed some space. There’s a bench made of stone a good distance from the front of the house, so she could come out and be left alone for a while. Her mother’s made some nice homey adjustments since her father left because when he was home, he didn’t care for what he’d call “frivolity.”

Quite something coming from a man who had a different mistress in every major city in both America and Russia.

But I do know her little haunts in this home. She had a small area in the unfinished basement, complete with concrete floors, where she’d strike one match after another after another until her father came home or her mother caught her. They’d both stop her, but with different responses. Her mother would beg to know why, and her father would rage, throwing and breaking things, occasionally striking her.

He didn’t need to ask why. He largely was the reason why.

And way down by the creek, there was a small access point to a local state park with camping and picnic areas. She would sometimes sneak down there and make good use of the grilling stations. She never cooked food, of course.

Lydia opens the door to the car and slams it shut behind her.

“Lydia.” I don’t want her storming ahead of me or doing something rash. She looks over her shoulder at me, her lips pursed.

“What?”

“Wait for me.”

“Why don’t you follow me?” she tosses back defiantly. A brisk wind kicks up, reminding me of the lonely, stark moors we’ve both read about in Wuthering Heights. I realize our relationship—tumultuous, marked by passion and intensity—is not unlike theirs. Like Catherine, my Lydia almost married the wrong man.

I’m the one who knows her.

I’m the one who loves her.

I’m the one who would lay down his life for her.

Then why don’t I love her enough to trust her? To give her the smallest measure of freedom? I tell myself it isn’t Lydia I don’t trust, but our enemies…

“Leave me alone, Viktor. I need some time,” she says when I reach her. “I want to talk to my mother and my sister. Can I do that in privacy? You’ll be right here. No one’s going to swoop in and kidnap me here, right?”

I shrug. “I have no fucking idea. All I know is that you have a target on your back, and there isn’t any place too low for that asshole to stoop.”

Vera rings the bell at the front door. There’s no answer.

“That’s strange,” she says thoughtfully, biting her lip before knocking. “I had a key, but it isn’t working. Mom must’ve changed the locks.”

“A good idea with Yudin on the loose,” Nikko says.

“Yeah, but wouldn’t she tell me?”

Nikko and I meet each other’s eyes. He draws his gun. I prefer my fists in situations like this. Together, we make a good team, though.

I put Lydia behind me. She frowns, her jaw clenched, but even she can’t hide the fear in her eyes. She texts her mom.

A few minutes later, there’s the light sound of footsteps. We can’t see anything as the windows are too high up, even for me and Nikko, but a moment later, we hear a series of locks being undone. We’re tense, but a moment later, Zofia Ivanova opens the door and stands, smiling at us.

“Mom, you scared us,” Vera says, shaking her head.

“Why?” Zofia asks, opening the door wider. “Come in, come in. I’m sorry if I haven’t been in touch. I’ve not been feeling well.” She looks over her shoulder. “Nikko, why are you holding a gun? Are you expecting someone to ambush you?”

Well… yes.

Lydia frowns at me. I only shrug as she leads us into the house. She embraces both girls, one at a time, holding them tight before she lets them go. .

“Nice to see you again, Nikko.” She gives him a big hug before she turns to me. “And you must be Viktor?”

She’s completely lost in my arms, she’s so little. I hug her back and wonder why she’s trembling. When I let her go, she turns her head and coughs into her arm.

“Oh, we have so much to chat about,” she says. “Please, let’s go to the living room.”

Vera makes herself at home in the large living room, heading to a sideboard.

“You guys want drinks for this planning sesh?” she asks.

“I’ll take the wine,” Lydia says. “Mom doesn’t have beer.”

I shake my head. I want to be on full alert. Nikko declines as well.

Kolya got into our heads hard.

Lydia sits beside me, sipping a glass of sparkling prosecco.

“Mom, why aren’t you feeling well?” Vera asks, sitting down beside Lydia.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “I’ve had this cough I can’t get rid of, but I’ll get better soon.” Her smile fades. She takes the drink Vera gives her and takes a small sip as if to steady her nerves. “Though honestly, Vera, I think it’s stress. We have a lot to talk about.”

Vera looks sharply at her mother. “What do you mean, stress? What other symptoms do you have?” She’s in full-on Dr. Ivanova mode.

Her mother tells her her symptoms, waving her hand as if to pass her off. “I’m fine, Vera.”

“Maybe you’re not, though,” Vera says with a frown. “And why are you stressed?”

Zofia opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it. She swallows. I’m struck with how alike Vera and Lydia’s eyes are to hers. While Vera is slender and has a touch of the “mad scientist” vibe to her with her wild hair and the occasional times she wears glasses, and Lydia is all curves and feminine allure with a heavy side of snark, all three of the women have a strong resemblance.

She stands, pacing the expansive living room. It’s a calm atmosphere with neutral-toned, modern furniture, clean lines, and wide windows that let in bright light, but it feels anything but calm in here right now.

She turns and looks at Lydia. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you.”