Chapter 14

“Don’tyou have better things to do than drive women around for the Petrov family?” I shoot the question at Igor. He’s driving the sleek black Yukon, with its deeply tinted windows, while I sit comfortably in the backseat.

He lifts an eyebrow and glances at me through the rearview mirror.

“I owe my life to the Petrov family. If they need my assistance, they have it.” He goes back to watching the road. It’s past seven.

Traffic has died down a little since I left the salon a few hours ago, but we’re hitting every red light, so it feels like we’re crawling across town.

Which is fine.

I’m going to need time to get my anger under control.

Viktor didn’t even message that he was sending Igor to pick me up. I told him yesterday I wasn’t able to see him tonight, but instead of respecting that, he sent one of his men to bring me to him.

It doesn’t matter that I had no plans for the night, he didn’t know that when he put out an order to have me dragged to his doorstep like some sort of purchased item.

He DoorDashed me.

“You know, you’ve basically kidnapped me. You could go to prison for a long time for that,” I say when Igor keeps driving in silence.

“You got into the car on your own accord,” he says. “I didn’t even have my gun out.”

I roll my eyes at him through the rearview mirror.

I tried telling Igor no when I opened my apartment door and found him there. But he just walked into my apartment and sat down on my couch and folded his arms over his chest. When I asked him what he was doing, he explained he couldn’t leave without me.

And then the television showed up. Ten minutes later, the handmade corner china cabinet and matching coffee table showed up with its hand-carved, highly polished wood and etched glass windows.

All the items are so far above what I would be able to afford for myself, I can’t begin to guess what they cost.

“We’re almost there, just another few blocks,” Igor announces as he makes a right turn.

I lean closer to the window, looking up at all the buildings around us. I was so lost in my irritation, I didn’t notice we made it downtown already.

“Where are we?” I crane my neck to see the street sign but miss it as we pass through an intersection.

“Just past Grand Avenue. I have to go to Ohio to go around because of the one way, but he lives on Grand.” Igor makes a right turn onto Ohio, and I realize exactly where we are.

“Isn’t Navy Pier just up ahead?” I lean forward, peeking through the front seats.

“Yes. And sit back,” he orders with a side glance. “Is your seatbelt even on?”

I roll my eyes. It wasn’t, but I wanted a better view.

“You’re about to park anyway.” I sit back though and click my belt back in place. As annoying as it is that Igor was sent to collect me, he’s only doing his job. And if I make trouble for him, it wouldn’t be fair. Whatever annoyance I have should be aimed at the true cause.

Viktor.

He turns into an underground parking garage after swiping a keycard, and he maneuvers through the rows of Porsches, BMWs, Teslas, and Bentleys. Jimmy would call this place a gold mine.

Igor parks the Yukon in a reserved spot. I open my door to hop down but am stopped by Viktor blocking me.

“You should wait until the door is opened for you, moy sladkiy voin.” He puts his hand out for me.

I stare at it. “Why? I can open my own door.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” He wiggles his fingers. “Come out of the car now.”

I fold my arms over my chest. What is it about this man that just brings out my inner brat to the surface?

“You can’t just send a kidnapper when you want to see me. You should have called me, or texted me, and waited until I said I’d like to see you.” I inch to the edge of my seat, closer to getting out of the car.

“I told you this morning I would see you tonight. I guess your meeting was canceled?” He reminds me of the little lie I told him yesterday about not being available to see him tonight. I’d completely forgotten all about it.

“Yeah?” I test the waters. Is he going to let the little white lie go or is he going to get all Neanderthal dramatic on me?

He gently pulls my arms from my chest and slides his hand down to mine, holding it and pulling enough to get me to climb down from the car.

Once I’m on my feet, he shuts the door and calls something to Igor in Russian.

He links his fingers through mine and leads me away from the cars to an elevator. I’m quietly planning exactly what I’m going to say to him once we’re alone in his apartment, while he uses a keycard and punches a code to get the elevator moving.

His fingers squeeze mine gently as the elevator glides up the shaft, further up and up. I look up at the illumined numbers. There are sixty floors, and we’ve passed forty of them already.

The elevator stops, dings, and the elevator doors slide open.

And every thought in my head just falls out.

It’s the penthouse.

He lives in the penthouse, and it’s the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen. He tugs me along, and I step out of the elevator onto the dark gray and cream marble flooring of the foyer that expands forward to a wide spiral staircase.

Windows to one side overlook the Chicago skyline. If I were to press my face to them and look further out, the lake would be laid out before me.

“You live here?” My voice cracks with my question.

“Even better.” He’s helping me out of my coat, but I’m too starstruck at the beauty I’m standing in to stop him. “I own the building.”

“You own this entire building?” How insignificant must my little one-bedroom apartment have looked to him? “I thought the Petrovs dealt in night clubs and bars.” Their other cash flows must come from less legitimate means.

“That’s the business we own as a family, yes. This is my own.” He takes my coat and hangs it up in the closet. He’s wearing his usual button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a pair of black trousers. His hair is neatly swept back, and he’s trimmed his beard again. The man never looks out of sorts. Perfectly put together at all times.

I run my hands over the dark gray sweater I threw on when I got home and the thrift store pleated skirt I gave a higher hem and added small metallic beading embellishments. The only things on me that have never been worn by another human being are my underwear and my black tights.

What do you need more jeans for? Those are just fine for you. You don’t like the holes? Fix them.

My father’s voice comes out of nowhere, making my stomach twist into a knot. He’d brought home a few pairs of jeans for Serena, his girlfriend-at-the-time’s daughter. When I’d asked him if he’d gotten me a new pair since mine all had holes, he’d gotten angry.

“Marlena?” Warm hands press against my cheeks and my eyes move, finding Viktor staring down at me. My body eases beneath his touch.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and a part of me is probably answering my father. I clear my throat. “I’m fine. I didn’t hear you though, what did you say?”

He searches my features. “What happened? You looked sad.”

“Nothing. I’m fine. I promise.” I push on a smile and nudge his hands from my face. “I was just thinking how beautiful your home is.”

He stares at me for another beat, not believing me. It’s frightening how easily he can see through me. I’ve worked hard over the years to not allow my feelings to be so transparent, but with him I might as well be a ghost.

“I said I like having something that’s my own. This building and two others here, and one in New York are my own.”

“You manage all these buildings and work with your cousins?” No wonder the man is always running off to a meeting. I wonder if he even sleeps.

“I have a company that runs the buildings here. An old friend of mine’s wife runs the building in New York,” he explains.

“Why not have your company run that one too?” I ask, curious now what he does with his time outside of being overbearing and overprotective with me.

“Billie started her own property management firm out there. When I bought the building, her company was already running it, so I kept the contract going.”

“Hmm.” I turn on my heel, suddenly needing to get away from him. The spice of his aftershave fills the area between us, and if I stand here longer, I might move toward him. And there’s something I need to yell at him for first.

What was it again? This man is too distracting.

“Did the television arrive?” he asks.

“Yes!” I snap my fingers. Everything I’d thought about in the elevator suddenly whooshes back. “You shouldn’t have bought it. I want you to take it back. Or at least tell me what store you got it from, and I’ll return it. And the china cabinet, too. And the coffee table.”

“No.” He relaxes, slides his hands into his pockets.

“What do you mean, no?” One simple word and the man thinks the conversation is just over. He says no and that’s just it? Not on his life.

“I mean, no. I won’t take it back. If I want to watch a movie at your apartment, I don’t want to watch it on that little table thing you have,” he states.

“A movie at my apartment?” I sweep my arms out. “Why the hell would you want to come to my apartment when you live here?” I feel like little orphan Annie standing in this damn place.

Why would he ever want to step foot in my apartment again? Remembering him sitting in my little secondhand recliner makes me groan with embarrassment.

He tilts his head, like my words don’t make any sense to him. “What does where I live have to do with your apartment?”

I throw my hands up. “You’re purposefully not understanding. You can’t buy me a TV and furniture, Viktor. It was a nice thought. A generous one, too, but you can’t. I won’t take them.”

He chews on the inside of his lip for a brief moment. “You will. It’s there already. Done.” He turns and walks off toward a dining room. It’s only now that I notice the warm scent of dinner rolls and a rich beef sauce.

“You’re not listening.” I hurry after him. Beef Stroganoff waits for us on the table. My mouth waters. The vending machine bag of chips I had for lunch didn’t exactly fill me up.

“I heard you, I thought it over, and I said no.” He pulls out a chair for me, an obvious order to sit.

“That’s it, you just say no?” I stand several feet from the chair. I’m not sitting. If I sit, then I’ll stay, and if I stay, he’ll get more under my skin then he already has, and that is one of the worst ideas in the world.

I was lucky enough to get a wedding party session for this weekend that will help me get most of the money I need for Jimmy. But I need another side gig. Get more sewing jobs, or maybe even get a night job waiting tables somewhere.

“Yes. Sit.” He points to the chair.

I stare at him, at the sharpness of his jaw, the fierceness of his eyes, and then those full lips that are curling slightly inward. He really doesn’t like it when I don’t listen to him, but I can’t.

Why won’t he just understand?

“I don’t want dinner.” Even if it looks amazing and smells like heaven. If I stay, he’ll keep trying to run over me.

“I’m trying to ease into this, Marlena; you’re making it very hard.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Ease into what?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I know Jimmy’s blackmailing you.”

The man has wiggled his way into every facet of my life; did I really think he wouldn’t figure out about Jimmy within five minutes of my admission this morning?

“I don’t want you involved in it. I will handle it.”

“Fresh rolls, straight from the oven!” An older woman glides through a swinging door that must lead to a kitchen with a basket of homemade rolls. Steam billows from the basket.

She puts the basket down between the two plate settings and stands up straight. Wiping her hands on the spotless white apron, she grins up at us. A smile that quickly falls flat when her attentions sweep over to Viktor.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ivankova. That’s all for tonight.” He doesn’t even look her way. Those dark, steely eyes of his are glued to me.

“Dessert is in the fridge; chocolate pudding.” She gives me a small smile as though to sympathize with me.

“Thank you. It smells delicious,” I say to her, feeling the full heat of Viktor’s stare on my cheek. Once she’s gone, I take a slow breath.

“You’re mad.” I fold my hands in front of me. “You say you want to date me, but then you get angry when I want to take care of my own life. It can’t work that way, Viktor. I don’t work that way.” I have been on my own far too long to start leaning on someone now.

Why would I risk being thrown to the ground when he leaves? What happens then? I’ll just have to figure out everything all over again.

I can’t. No. I won’t, let him turn my life upside down.

Not when it’s taken this long to get it upright.

He closes his eyes, takes a slow breath while muttering something in Russian.

Is he counting?

“I’ve told you several times already, moy sladkiy voin. I do not want to date you.” He points to the chair. “Sit down, eat your dinner, so we can have our discussion.”

“And what discussion is that?” I’m going to regret the question, but it slips out anyway.

“How we are going to deal with Jimmy.” He puts a finger to my lips. “Say nothing. Sit. Eat. We’ll talk after. Unless you’d rather we go upstairs to the bedroom, and we can get to your punishment for this morning instead?”

My ass clenches.

My stomach takes the moment of quiet between us to grumble at the fact that I’m hungry enough to eat the table, plates and all.

“Fine. Dinner. But then I’m going home.” I take the seat, letting him scoot me in.

“Dinner,” he says, taking his seat at the head of the table. “Then punishment. Then we can discuss where home is.”