Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Hollis

I stood before the full-length mirror, the weight of the gold dress reassuring against my skin. The delicate fabric clung to my frame, its shimmer catching the dim light of the bedroom and reflecting it with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill in my heart. I had chosen this dress for its beauty, but as I adjusted the thin straps and smoothed the hem, I realized it did more than make me look beautiful; it fortified me. The gown was my armor, a declaration of strength in a time of uncertainty.

I stared in the mirror for a few more minutes, my hands clenched, and told myself. "You are strong. You are fierce. You are worthy. You can do this."

Taking a deep breath, I studied my reflection, searching for the woman who could face Makarovich with unwavering confidence and coax the information from him that would lead us to Gregor and the doctor. The woman in the mirror stared back at me with steely eyes, lips painted a bold red, and a resolve I had almost forgotten I possessed. The woman in the mirror was who I wanted to be. I straightened my shoulders, allowing myself a small, victorious smile. Dimitri would be with me. I was okay. The small pebble in my shoe didn't feel so sharp today; the edges still hurt, but today had smoothed them.

The soft click of the bedroom door opening drew my attention. Dimitri stepped inside, his eyes widening slightly as he took me in. For a moment, I saw something unguarded in his expression, a flicker of desire that he quickly masked with his usual stoic demeanor. But the look lingered in his eyes, and I felt a warm flush rise to my cheeks.

"You look..." he began, his voice softer than I'd ever heard.

"Different?" I finished for him, one eyebrow arching playfully.

"Stunning," he said, taking a step closer. "Powerful. Like trouble," he said with all seriousness.

My heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. The undeniable and thrilling attraction flared up. These past days, his actions showed me that I could trust him and that he would care for me.

"Thank you," I said, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I needed this." I lifted the fabric of the dress self-consciously. "This dress, I mean," I dropped my eyes from his awkwardly, feeling the smooth fabric slide against my skin. "It makes me remember who I am." I lifted my eyes back. "Who I can be."

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "We're going to get what we need from Makarovich. Together. "

Together. The word resonated with me: a promise of partnership that went beyond our shared goal. A shiver went through me, goosebumps rising over my skin. Too much had happened; I knew too much to falter now.

"Can you hold me for a minute?" I asked awkwardly. I couldn't remember the last time that I'd had a grownup hug me. Certainly, I'd gotten them from Olive, but that wasn't the same. Maybe I would feel even stronger if I borrowed some of his strength. He stepped forward so fast that he almost caught himself on the hem of my dress.

"Fuck yeah, I can. I'll hold you as long as you'll let me," he growled, gathering me into his body axs if I were made of cotton candy, soft and delicate, made of candy floss threads. Pink was cherry blossoms, lip gloss, and strawberry kisses.

My breath came in a rush, my heart beating faster. "I won't break Dima. Hold me tight, like you won't let go." His arms tightened on command, but not so hard that he crushed my dress.

His hands brushed against my cheeks, tracing the bones of my jaw and the edges of my lips. Keeping my eyes on his, I tried to communicate that I wanted him to lean down and press his lips to mine. My tongue darted out to wet them nervously, and he groaned low in his throat.

"Do I have permission, malysh ?" he asked gently.

"Yes," I whispered as his lips descended on mine finally.

Dimitri acted as if I were a dessert, and he was starving for a taste. He nibbled the edges of my mouth and dove in, stroking the back of my neck and shoulders the whole time. Then he would start again, leaving me wanting more. He kissed as if we were at the end of the world or on the precipice of a new one.

"Dima …" I struggled to find the words to explain what I wanted.

"I'm sorry. I was getting carried away." Dimitri stepped away from me and straightened. That wasn't what I had meant, though. Biting my lip, I tried to figure out how to explain myself. My hands fluttered nervously together like a bird's wings. "It's hard to stay away when you do that," he said.

"I didn't want you to stop," I said in a small voice. Was that wrong? Should I have wanted him to stop? Fiddling with my hair, I pulled some forward to cover my face, feeling the blush rising in my cheeks. This was embarrassing. He was so much more than any man I'd ever known.

His gaze softened as he moved closer, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Oh, malysh. We have all the time in the world. There is no rush for these things. Each moment will be a treasure."

"Okay." I nodded, but I was confused about my feelings .

"Come, we need to go anyway." I put my hand into his as we left the bedroom, tucking me to his side protectively. I tried to examine my thoughts as we went to the waiting car.

Allowing myself a moment of vulnerability, I said softly. "Dimitri, did you want me to tell you what happened?" He looked startled, almost unsettled, which wasn't my intention. If he didn't want to know, that wasn't something I needed to tell him; I just thought, maybe?

"I am here to listen to you, Hollis. I am here to be your armor if you need me, to be your safe harbor. What you share, you can do on your own time." He looked at me thoughtfully. "It is up to you if you tell me what happened. Those men will die for whatever it was. Whatever it was, it does not impact how I feel about you." He settled a kiss under my ear on the soft skin there so that a shiver went through my body, his words unsettling me in all the best ways.

Sighing, I smoothed my hands over the seat, taking deep breaths. His words made me feel better — safer. He had feelings for me. That was good, right? Sneaking a look at him, I marveled that the man sitting next to me could be so tender and gentle. He would be good with Olive, right? The image of him with her suddenly came to me. She'd never known a father figure. I wondered if he liked children.

"This will be over after this, right?" I asked, covering my sudden discomfort.

His hand found mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It will. We'll find Gregor and the doctor, and this will all end. Just a little longer, and then we will get you home to Olive."

The warmth of his touch spread through me, a steadying force against the whirlwind of fear and anticipation. I nodded, drawing strength from his presence.

The drive to the restaurant was easy. The silence was filled with nothing but Dimitri stroking the palm of my hand in soothing circles, tracing the tips of my fingers until I felt restless and achy, me sneaking glances at him. I longed to climb onto his lap to pull myself to him. Instead, I did nothing as we pulled up to the elegant building .

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for the evening ahead. We were stepping into the lion's den. Despite Dimitri's warnings, I felt more ready than last time.

Dimitri opened the car door for me, offering a hand as I stepped out. The golden dress shimmered under the streetlights, catching the eyes of passersby. I walked with my head held high, and every step reminded me that I was in charge right now, both in my appearance and resolve.

The neon lights outside the club flickered in a hypnotic dance, casting vibrant hues across the cobblestone street. A palpable energy radiated from the very walls of the building. I didn't think it was any energy I wanted to be part of. Some of these people out here were either victims or predators. As we approached the entrance, the resounding thud of bass-heavy music seeped through the heavy doors.

The guard at the door was a burly man with a discerning eye who gave us a quick once-over. After Dimitri gave his name, he waved us forward. As soon as we stepped through the threshold, we were enveloped by the pulsating beats of electronic music. The air inside was even warmer than outside, tinged with sweat, perfume, and a hint of tobacco. The lights were dim, save for the flashing strobes that cast fleeting, colorful shadows across the room.

It was interesting to watch Dimitri slip into his role. Gone was the sweet and gentle man who had stood before me earlier. He now had a mask over his face. He was all business—complex and impenetrable. This face promised violence and no mercy.

The dance floor moved in unison with the rhythm of the music. It was a mesmerizing sight—people of all ages and backgrounds, lost in the music, their movements fluid and uninhibited. The DJ, perched high above the crowd, orchestrated the night with skillful precision, transitioning seamlessly from one track to the next, each beat building on the last.

To the left, a long bar stretched out, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of strategically placed lights. The bartenders moved with practiced efficiency, mixing cocktails and pouring drinks with flair. I watched a bartender expertly toss a bottle in the air, catching it behind his back before pouring its contents into a shaker. He flashed a quick smile at a group of women at the bar, their laughter rising above the din of the music.

We made our way to a small, elevated section of the club, where plush velvet couches provided a semblance of privacy amid the chaos. From this vantage point, I could see the entire club—the dance floor, the bar, the clusters of people gathered in animated conversation. It was all movement and sound, a testament to Bogotá's renowned nightlife, but it was a lie because I knew something was bound to happen tonight. Something bad. Multiple bad things, probably. This was all just a front for something else. They couldn't see it yet.

Dimitri handed me a drink as we left the bar. His eyes scanned the crowd, alert and watchful. I took a sip, the cool liquid a welcome respite from the club's heat .

"It's lively, isn't it?" he asked, leaning in so I could hear him over the music.

I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips. "It's incredible. The energy here is infectious."

He smiled back, a rare expression of warmth that made my heart skip a beat. "Stay close to me, malysh ," he said, his voice serious. "We need to blend in."

I nodded, my heart pounding. We approached Makarovich's table, each step echoing with purpose. I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took in my appearance, the way the golden dress seemed to command the room. I felt a rush of satisfaction.

As we sat down, I smiled at Makarovich, a confident, steely smile. "Good evening," I said, my voice steady and clear.

"Volkov," Makarovich nodded to Dimitri, ignoring me altogether. "You look like you brought your own snacks. Will you be attending the festivities?"

"She's beautiful, right Anton?" Dimitri said. I could see Makarovich's eyes flit from Dimitri to me, wondering what the right thing to say was.

"Yes?" he finally answered, a quiver in his voice that even I heard. The man was pathetic even to me, bending so quickly to Dimitri.

"That's the right answer," Dimitri praised. "She is exquisite." He looked at Makarovich with consideration. "However, someone in your organization mishandled her."

My breath stopped for a moment altogether. He hadn't said what he would say about how he would get Markorvich to give us Gregor. I let the air out again and forced myself to breathe normally. It was fine. It wasn't like he didn't know that I was there in the warehouse. It wasn't a secret. I wasn't ashamed. I firmed my chin and glared at the puny man in front of me instead, giving my most imperious glare .

"Well …" Makarovich began to fidget. "The girls aren't supposed to be …" His greasy hands nervously pulled on the edges of his jacket, and he looked at the sides of the tables. I'd asked earlier if he had bodyguards or men who traveled with him, like Luka. Dimitri had just laughed. Markovich wasn't important enough for that.

"Gregor she said, isn't that right, malysh ." Dimitri grinned wickedly.

"That's right," I confirmed agreeably, as if the name didn't make me sick.

"If you give him to me, I will consider you square with the Volkov Bratva, Anton." At this, Makarovich's eyes lit up as if he just got a new puppy.

"You swear?" he asked earnestly.

"Yes, mudak , I swear," Dimitri said in a bored voice. Markovich didn't even flinch at being called a ‘dickhead' .

"Okay, sure, I'll have him meet you after the party in the alley in the back. No problem. If we'll be square." He heaved a great big breath and then settled, like considering his good fortune. His shifty eyes looked over the dance floor and then at us. "We have a good selection tonight; perhaps you'll give up your plaything after all." Makarovich sent me an evil grin that would have made me uncomfortable if Dimitri's presence wasn't solid next to me. I knew, too, that Luka stood nearby, observing the situation. He'd get me out if needed. Dimitri had arranged that in advance, much to Luka's displeasure.

"Perhaps. Doubtful." Suddenly, Dimitri lurched forward fast as an adder and grabbed Markaovich hard around the throat until his eyes popped wide in his face. His voice was guttural as he said, "Understand me, Anton, you play the part I asked you to. You betray me in any way, and I will gut you, pull your intestines out, and wrap them around your neck. Then I will kill you. Do not doubt it."

Markarovich couldn't have been more pale; sweat dotted his forward and stained his jacket. "I won't betray you. He'll be there. You'll have your man. Then … then we'll be square."

Dimitri leaned back into the seat and shoved him away from him like he was trash, taking another shot of vodka. "Very well. We'll see." If I didn't know better, I would have thought that Dimitri meant to kill him right there, to do all of those things to him.

"Come then, I'll show you where the real party is." Makarovich got up from the table with a frightened look and gestured us towards a doorway at the rear of the club.

With no choice now but to follow, Dimitri grasped my hand tightly, and we maneuvered through the crowd toward the back of the club.

He led us through the club, weaving expertly between groups of revelers. We followed closely, my heart pounding with anticipation and a touch of unease. The further we went, the dimmer the lights became, and the thump of the music seemed to recede, replaced by a different kind of energy.

We arrived at a heavy, ornate door guarded by two imposing men. At a nod from Makarovich, they stepped aside, allowing us entry. The door swung open to reveal the club's main area. The room was bathed in a golden glow, the opulence almost surreal. Gilded cages hung from the ceiling, their bars shimmering under the warm light. Inside, figures slumped, their identities obscured by the shadows. Below each cage was a tablet.

"Bidding is done on the tablets," Makarovich said cockily, trying to get his groove back as we moved forward. "All their attributes are there if you want to examine them."

I was stunned. Trying not to look above me, I locked into Dimitri's side, relying on the solidness of his body next to me. This was real life? What the fuck was happening here?

My breath caught at the sight. This was no ordinary VIP section; it was a den of exclusivity and excess where the city's elite came to indulge in their most decadent desires. The cages were both a spectacle and a symbol, a reminder of the power dynamics. Women in cages held there the whim of these fuckers. Jesus.

"Awe-inspiring potential," Dimitri murmured as he looked around the room like he had seen this sort of thing every day.

"I'm delighted that you agree," Markovich babbled on, oblivious that Dimitri looked like he'd choke the life out of him right there.

Makarovich gestured for us to follow him deeper into the room. We passed tables laden with expensive drinks and exotic substances, the air thick with the scent of luxury, vice, and, most of all, suffering. Conversations here were hushed, the murmur of deals being struck and secrets exchanged.

"This," Makarovich said, facing us, "is where the real business happens. Maxim has no idea the power here, but you do." He pointed a finger at Dimitri. "You could be the next pakhan."

"Careful mudak ." Dimitri's voice was cold .

"Of course, of course. I don't mean anything by it. Enjoy yourselves. I have a package to arrange for you. Give me an hour. I'll meet you behind the building then." He sent an exaggerated wink and then said, "Don't leave your trash though, that'd be …" he wrinkled his nose. "Distasteful."

"Of course," Dimitri said dryly. "Wouldn't dream of it."