1. Lev

1

LEV

Sometimes, I forget that I’m not a ghost. I’m so used to hiding in the shadows, being looked through instead of at, that it makes it easy to forget that I’m a living, breathing human with blood running through my veins and a heart beating in my chest.

Especially when I spent most of my life being treated like I was nothing more than dirt on the bottom of my father’s shoe.

Being raised by Igor Ivanov is a hell I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.

I used to tell myself he treated me that way to toughen me up, to make me into a man, but in reality, I knew it was because he wanted to punish me.

For what, I have no idea.

I made the mistake of asking once, and it earned me a fractured jaw, so I learned the hard way to keep my mouth shut.

Whatever I did must have been bad because he never once treated my brother and sister the same way. They were never locked in the dark for days on end without food or beaten to within an inch of their lives merely for existing.

Those punishments were saved just for me.

To live is to feel pain. But at some point, your body becomes so numbed by it all that you wonder if you’ll ever feel anything again. If you even want to.

But when I saw her again for the first time after two years, it was like I was brought back to life.

Elle .

When darkness surrounds me, it’s the memory of her laugh that keeps me sane, her green eyes in my dreams.

I used to be haunted by demons, but now I’m haunted by her.

She leaves the hospital and heads in the opposite direction to the subway station.

I have to follow her.

This city is full of predators who would mistake one smile from Elle as a green light to spend the night trying to coerce her into god-knows-what, and she’s too polite to push back.

It was a complete accident that Elle ended up back in my life after all this time.

Two years ago today, I ran into her, literally .

We collided on the stairs leading down to the subway station, and I knew right away that it was her.

Her hair fell in front of her face as she mumbled an apology, clearly embarrassed by our interaction, and rushed down the stairs toward the waiting subway.

It took less than a second for me to decide to follow her.

I convinced myself it was because I felt protective of her, considering all that she had been through.

And that is what still has me following her every day and every night .

I follow her to the hospital where she works as a nurse, and I wait outside until she finishes her shift. I keep telling myself it’s only because I want to keep an eye on her as she makes her way back to her apartment.

She works such long shifts at the hospital that she looks like a ghost by the time she leaves.

Seeing her so exhausted makes me anxious, especially when she’s walking home at all hours of the night.

Though part of it is of her own doing. She chooses to pick up extra shifts at the hospital, leaving her so exhausted by the time she gets home that she likely passes out.

It’s almost as if she’s running from something…

I have no choice but to follow her, just to make sure she gets home safely, even if, like today, that means spending some time in a bar.

Anything for her.

When she enters the bar, I wait fifteen seconds and follow her inside.

I tend to avoid crowded, noisy places. Places like this put me on edge, and my jaw already aches from clenching it so hard.

My eyes find her as soon as I walk in.

My entire body tenses when she glances around.

She doesn’t notice me, she never does, but the hair on the back of my neck still stands up at the thought of her catching me watching her.

I choose a table hidden away from the orange lights of the bar. The waitress takes my drink order, while waiting I pull the hood of my jacket up helping shadow my face and adjust my hair so it covers my eyes just in case .

My gaze strays from her only long enough to survey my surroundings.

A few women have already clocked me, but not out of interest. Fear, perhaps…

As soon as my drink is delivered to my table, I lift my glass to my lips, risking another glance at Elle.

It’s selfish of me to seek comfort in her smiles, but I can’t help myself.

I love her smile. It makes me think that for a second or two, she might be happy, despite everything she’s gone through.

But she’s not happy. Not even close.

For a few minutes, I sip my vodka slowly as I survey the busy bar, my ears tuned in to the sound of her voice as she chats animatedly with her friend, the one I know she works with at the hospital.

It’s a Friday night, and the place is packed with overworked hospital staff and overpaid investment bankers all looking for someone to warm their bed for the night.

Elle’s already on her third vodka and tonic and from the slight flush of her skin, I know the alcohol is starting to take effect.

She’s beautiful, with her long, dark hair and bright, green eyes that light up when she smiles.

Ditching her blue hospital scrubs for a dark burgundy dress that hugs her curves perfectly and compliments her tanned skin, I can barely take my eyes off her, and I’m not the only one.

I’ve already clocked over a dozen men who have looked her way, their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths as she throws her head back and laughs, exposing the delicate skin of her neck that is begging to be explored.

While I know I can’t have her, that doesn’t mean that I want anyone else to have her either. The thought of someone putting their hands on her, feeling her soft skin and hearing the sounds she makes when she comes, has me grinding my teeth.

There’s not one single bastard guy in this place that is even worthy of so much as a smile from Elle Conti, and I’m not averse to making that known to any one of them who dares to come anywhere near her.

As I finish my drink and wave at the waitress to pour me for another, I catch Elle’s friend getting up out of the corner of my eye.

I sit up straight as I watch her friend disappear into the toilets.

My eyes land on the guy sitting by himself at a table nearby as the moment Elle is alone, he gets to his feet and makes his move.

Hell fucking no .

My body is screaming at me to intervene as the guy approaches her.

He looks like a complete douche in his knock-off designer suit and slicked-back hair.

I almost laugh, knowing that there is no way Elle is going to be impressed by him. In the two years I’ve been keeping an eye on her, she’s not dated anyone seriously, so I have no doubt that she’s not interested in anything from this guy.

And yet, I catch a hint of surprise in her eyes as the guy approaches her, as if she can’t believe that anyone is willing to give her the time of day.

I wish she could see herself through my eyes. If she was mine, I wouldn’t let a day go by without telling her how beautiful she is, not just on the outside but on the inside too .

Reaching for my fresh drink, I try to ignore the building ache in my chest as I watch Elle.

She’s smiling, but even from across the bar, I can tell it’s not a true smile, the type that has her entire face lighting up and her nose scrunching in the most adorable way. Those are rare, and certainly not reserved for assholes in cheap suits with even cheaper pick up lines.

Her eyes are looking anywhere but at him, and my lips twitch at her lack of interest.

“Walk away, creep,” I mutter as I take another sip of my drink.

The glass almost slips from my fingers as the guy does the opposite.

Ignoring Elle’s lack of interest, he moves his hand to her bare thigh and squeezes the soft flesh.

My body starts to vibrate as my blood starts boiling.

When you’re raised with a father like mine, you can’t afford to lose your temper, so you learn to internalize the anger. I’ve learned to channel it in a way that heightens my focus and sharpens my senses, despite the pounding in my ears.

I’m a second away from intervening when Elle gets to her feet, shaking her head as she glances around for her friend.

Even from across the bar, I can tell Elle is asking him to leave her alone.

I bounce my knee up and down, fighting the urge to intervene. I know Elle can handle her own, but she shouldn’t have to.

Her word deserves to be respected, but it seems this fucker wasn’t raised to respect women.

My restraint is about to snap as fear flashes in Elle’s eyes, but then he’s holding his hands up and backing away like he misread her polite smile and spray-on dress as an invitation.

As he walks away toward the back. I don’t miss the way her hand shakes as she reaches for her drink and brings the glass to her lips.

I hate that she was made to feel like this, like she has something to apologize for when men like him can’t handle a knock to their ego.

Perhaps if I didn’t see the flash of fear in her beautiful eyes, I would have been content to let it go. All I need is to know that she’s happy.

Who am I kidding…

He might have gotten the message eventually, but that’s not fucking good enough.

I’m sliding off my bar stool and stalking toward the bathroom before I can talk myself out of it.

A laugh almost escapes me when I find the fucker fixing his over-gelled hair in the mirror.

“Do you get off on harassing women?” I slam the door shut behind me.

His eyes flick to mine in the mirror, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“She clearly wasn’t interested.” I take a step closer to him.

If he wants to leave, he’s going to have to get past me first.

“What the fuck are you on about?” He turns to face me, and I don’t miss the way he puffs up his chest as he looks me up and down.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His mouth breaks out into a feral smile as he catches on .

“I can have any woman in this place, so you can have the little slut?—”

My fist slams into his jaw.

His head snaps to the side, and he lets out a grunt of pain.

“You need to learn some fucking respect.” I fist his collar, slamming him into the opposite wall. “You think you’re so impressive in your cheap suit and fake Rolex, but it doesn’t take a genius to see you for what you are.”

“I could say the same.” He pushes against my chest.

I bite back a laugh as I barely move an inch.

“Don’t fucking put your hands on me again.” I throw him against the marble countertop.

He ricochets against it before collapsing on the floor, gasping for breath from the force of the impact.

I waste no time landing a swift kick to his abdomen, eliciting another grunt of pain that’s like music to my fucking ears.

“You should learn to take no for an answer.” I kick him again, this time in the ribs. “And for the record, she was so far out of your fucking league, you should consider yourself incredibly lucky that she even gave you the time of day.”

I land one last kick to his ribs for good measure before forcing myself to step away before I lose myself to my rage.

My knuckles throb as I flex my hand, but I don’t care.

He deserves a lot more than a punch to the jaw and a few cracked ribs, but I can’t afford to lose sight of Elle. Not when she’s likely to leave at any moment, and I need to make sure she gets home safe.

“Have a nice night.” I exit the bathroom, heading back out into the bar in search of Elle.

But my stomach sinks as I look over to her table and realize I’m too late.

She’s gone.