Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

"Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain."

― Bob Dylan

Caia

I groaned, hopping around like an idiot, trying to hold my breath long enough to zip up my jeans. My back was sweating, and I'd been fighting with this damn zipper for ten minutes. It was official—my favorite pair of jeans didn't fit anymore.

Great. Just what I needed.

I could almost set the world on fire over this betrayal. And, of course, I had my absolutely useless, nerve-wracking, annoying, and downright terrifying father to thank for it. I'd been stress-eating chocolate and sweets every night for the past week, trying to calm my nerves. What started as a heavenly escape into a sea of sugary bliss had dragged me straight into the pits of fashion hell.

Frustrated, I yanked the jeans off and threw them onto the bed, where they landed in a sad, crumpled heap. Whatever.

I grabbed a fitted grey knit dress, threw it on, pulled on some tights, and sprinted to the living room to lace up my Doc Martens. One glance at my phone told me what I already knew—late for my first class.

I snatched my coat, locked up the apartment, and ran down the hallway toward the elevator, hoping today wouldn't spiral like the last week had.

My father had been annoyingly persistent with his demands. He wanted me to drag Alexsei Romaniev into my bed like it was no big deal, but I told him now wasn't a good time and that I was busy—which was kinda true, or at least true enough to shut him up for a few days. Or maybe I said it just to get him off my back so I could figure out a way to escape this disaster he'd thrown me into.

But, of course, knowing Kristan Mankiev, I should've expected some form of payback.

So, after a delightful thirty-minute bus ride to uni, I wasn't even surprised to see Drayi waiting as I stepped off the bus, flashing that hideous grin like he'd just won a prize. He waved me over to his car, and for a brief, glorious moment, I thought about turning right around and hopping back on the bus.

But I wasn't quite ready to be beheaded just yet.

"What do you want? I'm already late for my?—"

He cut me off, of course . ?I don't give a fuck about your stupid classes that won't get you nowhere in your fucking lame life. Mankiev wants to see you. Get in."

I sighed, yanked open the door of his ugly red Range Rover, and slid into the seat.

Of course, waking up late was just the opening act to the disaster of a day ahead of me. I never sleep in, and on the rare occasions I do, my life inevitably starts to fall apart, piece by miserable piece.

The last time I slept in after an epic movie and TV series marathon where I spent the night drooling over Henry Cavill in Superman, The Tudors, The Witcher, and more, I woke up with a migraine so intense I had to drag myself to the E.R. There, I spent five hours next to an old grandpa who was clutching his stomach and moaning about feeling like he was dying.

Turns out, he hadn't been to the toilet in a week and was just, well... full of shit.

See, my life sadly thrived on a rigid schedule. Deviating from it, even for something as harmless as a Henry Cavill binge, usually meant disaster. So, when I woke up late this morning too, I knew it was just the start of a day where everything would go wrong. My body had this knack for turning even the smallest deviation into a full-blown catastrophe, and it seemed like the universe was eager to remind me of that.

Drayi drove us in silence through the city streets to my father's office, while I let my head fall back against the window and closed my eyes, hoping for a brief escape from the chaos ahead.

Of course, the second I started to relax, Drayi slammed on the brakes, and I lurched forward, the seat belt digging into my chest and cutting off my breath.

‘YOU FREAKING–'

I didn't even need to finish the sentence because, with a mocking laugh, Drayi jumped out of the car. I was left alone, breathless and with a bright red mark across my neck from the freaking seatbelt.

" Nyet ."

"Caia, it'll only be for an hour?—"

I crossed my arms and shot him a look. " Nyet . You know I hate casinos."

He let out a puff of smoke and shrugged. "Yeah, well, I love money, so be ready by nine. Drayi will come and get you."

I groaned and sank onto the sofa.

First, he wanted me to seduce Alexsei Romaniev, and now he expects me to entertain his friends at a freaking casino? Jesus, could my life get any more ridiculous? Every time I thought I might catch a break, it felt like I was just handed another crappy situation to deal with. When was I ever going to get a moment of peace?

Just as I was sinking deeper into my frustration, I heard a series of knocks on the door. I turned my head to see Drayi opening it, and three members of the Silas walked in.

Of course.

Apparently, peace was apparently a luxury I was never going to get to enjoy.

My eyes quickly found Romaniev, who was already staring at me with his cold, penetrating blue eyes. A shiver ran down my arms.

Caia, you better run for your life.

I didn't waste any time.

I jumped up, grabbed my coat, and bolted for the door. I wasn't about to spend another second in this testosterone-charged room, afraid that if I stayed any longer, I might grow a beard just from the sheer amount of male energy.

But before I could leave, Romaniev sidestepped me, blocking my path.

I stopped in my tracks.

"Caia, I didn't raise you to be fucking impolite. Say hello to our guests. "

Romaniev stayed right where he was, blocking my way. Meanwhile, Volkov and another guy—about mid-height with a scar running down the side of his throat—made their way to the sofa. They settled in, reaching for my father's cigarettes and beverages as if they were right at home.

I forced a tight-lipped smile. "Of course. Hello, boys. I'm so sorry, but I have an emergency and can't stay long. Always a pleasure to see the Silas."

I turned my eyes back to Romaniev as the men behind me started discussing something about a missing truck in Colombia. Oh hell, I didn't care.

All I wanted was to get out of this room.

But Romaniev, with his impressive 6'4" frame and those piercing blue eyes that felt like they were hypnotizing me, kept me rooted in place. His whole presence exuded such a menacing vibe that I instinctively took a small step back.

‘Where are you off to?' he asked, his voice low and rough, stirring a knot of heat deep in my tummy.

I frowned. ‘Why do you care?"

He stayed silent; his threatening presence palpable. His eyes roamed slowly over my body with a disturbing apathy, as if he was assessing me like a piece of furniture rather than a person. I rolled my eyes, frustration bubbling up inside me.

Without waiting for any further response, I sidestepped him and walked around, heading for the door. However, I didn't expect him to follow me.

As I reached the deserted hallway and pushed the elevator button, I glanced back to find him standing right behind me, his imposing figure making it clear he wasn't going anywhere. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you following me?" I snapped.

Romaniev's lips curled into a mocking smile as he leaned in slightly. "Just here to make sure you don't get into any trouble. Good little Russian girls don't wander the dangerous streets of Moscow by themselves, or they might just get snatched away."

I scoffed. "It's 9 in the morning, Romaniev. I doubt any psychopathic, murderous monster is awake at this time, just waiting for me to step out so they can snatch me away to their miserable castle."

Romaniev's gaze remained steady. "Yet, here I am, Caia."

I stayed silent; my lungs tight.

I couldn't help but imagine the kinds of gruesome things he might have done—how many people he'd offed or chopped up. You could practically smell the dark and evil vibes he was radiating from a mile away.

As the elevator doors slid open, I turned around and faced him.

With a deliberate, almost provocative motion, I reached out and patted him slowly on his chest. The contact sent a warm, tingling sensation through my fingers, and I kept my gaze fixed on his, my chin tilted up defiantly.

"Thanks for the escort, buddy," I said, giving him a tight, fake smile. "But I think I can manage from here."

I stepped into the elevator and reached for the button to close the doors.

Romaniev's gaze stayed locked on mine as the doors began to slide shut, the last thing I saw was his unreadable expression. The elevator's hum was the only sound as I descended, my pulse racing in my chest.

As I stepped out onto the streets, I couldn't tell if it was my anxiety soaring to new heights, the delightful prospect of spending my evening with my father's charming friends and their wandering hands, or just the sheer stress of waking up late.

Whatever it was, it hit me all at once.

I stumbled to the nearest bin and, with a sense of grim determination, emptied the scant remnants of the dinner I had barely managed to eat the night before.

Thank God Romaniev didn't follow me there. I had enough humiliation for the entire week, and I wasn't in the mood to add to it. I took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure, and forced myself to move away from the bin.

With a weary sigh, I straightened up and headed down the street.

As I walked, I tried to focus on anything other than the events of the morning, hoping that somehow, things would start to turn around.

But given the way my life was going, I wasn't holding my breath.