Chapter 17

Chapter 16

Luka

YULIA'S SLEEPY scream pierces the quiet of the night. She's having a bad dream, I can tell. Her limbs are jolting like she's trying to hold on to someone. She whimpers, and I feel a pang of frustration over the situation.

Ever since Maria left us a week ago, Yulia has been heartbroken. She had grown attached to her, and who could blame her? Our home isn't exactly filled with women. The head maid, Svetlana, is the only other woman in the house, but she's stern and cold, not at all like Maria. She doesn't seem like she has a soft spot for children. Yulia's a smart kid. I'm sure she senses that.

I remember the conversation I had with Yulia when I told her Maria had to go home to her own children.

"But Luka," she'd said, her eyes shining with tears, "why didn't she say goodbye? You promise another angel will come stay with us, right?"

I nodded, trying to comfort her. "Yes, maly?ka, I promise. We'll find someone else who loves you just as much as Maria did. Someone who will be your best friend, who will play with you, read you stories, and make you laugh until your belly aches. You'll create wonderful memories together, just like you did with Maria."

I still don't think she truly understands.

Fucking Maria!

The thought of what she did to Yulia fills me with a simmering rage. I could have killed her for leaving my sister like this, for breaking the fragile trust of a little girl who had come to see her as a friend and protector.

But I didn't. Instead, I sent Maria home, paid her well, and ensured she'd never work in this city again. The fact that I didn't exact my usual brutal revenge leaves me questioning myself. Has the responsibility of caring for Yulia made me soft? Have I lost the edge that made me feared and respected in this shitstorm of an underworld?

I shake off the doubts, unwilling to dwell on them now. What matters is Yulia and making sure she's happy and protected. I'll do whatever it fucking takes to see her smile again, to chase away the shadows that have begun to cloud her once-bright eyes.

Yulia gives another whimper, her small body shuddering. In the dimly lit room, I watch as her face contorts in fear, her little fists clutching at the sheets. It breaks my fucking heart to see her like this, so vulnerable and alone.

"Luka!" Yulia's soft sobs call out to me, her eyes fluttering as she searches for comfort.

Sighing, I slide out of bed and pad over to Yulia's side, the floor cold beneath my feet. I reach out and gently stroke her hair, whispering soothing words in Russian. "Shh, maly?ka, it's just a dream. You'll be okay." The memory of my mother saying the same words to me when I was a child flashes through my mind.

I've been sharing a room with Yulia for a week, doing my best to provide her with some sense of security and comfort. As I pat her back gently, her sobs begin to subside, her breathing evening out.

"Everything's alright, Yulia," I whisper, my voice a soothing balm. "I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you."

Slowly, her eyelids grow heavy, and she drifts back to sleep, her small body curling against Max for warmth and safety.

Restlessness consumes me; I give up on sleep tonight. The house is eerily quiet, as if it's holding its breath, amping my unease. Carefully, I slip out of Yulia's room, trying not to wake her up.

As I walk down the dim hallway, my footsteps almost silent, my thoughts drift to Sophia. That unforgettable night we spent together haunts me. Each memory is still vivid and relentless.

Her sultry moans, the way she whispered my name in ecstasy, the warmth of her body pressed against mine…

Fuck!

My cock starts to stir in my shorts. My body tenses, reacting to the memory of her flushed skin, her chest heaving as I thrust deeper and deeper.

What are you thinking?

I shake my thoughts off as I stand in my meeting room, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Events have been bad lately. The burden of it feels unshakable. Betrayal… The fucking word tastes bitter in my mouth. Two of my men turned on me. The sting of it is unavoidable. My enemies circle like vultures, and the FBI isn't far behind. The fuckers are never far.

My eyes move to the leather chair in the corner, my jacket draped over its arm. I could leave this goddamn house and try to forget everything, but there's no escape. Nothing but more work and more problems. My home, supposed to be a sanctuary crafted to meet my every need, now feels like a frigid tomb.

A familiar urge to work through the night tempts me, but I resist. Instead, I unlock my computer, tapping the keys with measured precision. The sound usually calms me, but not tonight. My rage flares as I open an email and read the name of a lawyer involved in yet another lawsuit. Bloodsuckers, every one of them, trying to take what they haven't earned.

Most of the time, I can brush off these legal battles. But not tonight. I'm fucking tired of it all. The never-ending cycle of enemies and betrayals, the relentless pressure of trying to keep everything together.

Yebat' yego v rot!

I grab my phone, cursing under my breath, and dial Svetlana's number. It's three in the morning, but she answers immediately, as if she's been awake all this time. I don't bother with pleasantries, just demand to know about the nanny situation.

"Mr. Ivankov, there are some new candidates coming in today," she informs me, her voice crisp and efficient. "I've already made the arrangements."

"Good," I snap, my patience wearing thin. "Make sure they're what Yulia needs. I won't have her suffering any longer. Oh, and make sure this time they fucking stay," I growl into the phone, my anger barely contained. "I won't have Yulia going through this heartache again."

"Understood, Mr. Ivankov," Svetlana replies, her tone impassive. "I will do my best to find the right person."

I pause for a moment, contemplating my next words. "Send them to my office when they arrive. I'll do the interview myself." Determination hardens my voice. "I want to be absolutely certain we're making the right choice for Yulia."

Svetlana hesitates briefly, clearly surprised by my decision, but she quickly recovers. "Very well, Mr. Ivankov. I'll make the necessary arrangements."

I lower myself into the ice bath, the frigid water biting into my skin as my muscles scream in protest.

Shit! This feels fucking insane!

After a brutal workout in my private gym, I need the cold to calm my overworked body. To quiet my mind. As the chill soaks deep, I relish the sensation. It reminds me that I'm alive, that I can still feel something despite the darkness that threatens to consume me.

I exhale raggedly as I force myself to stay submerged. My chest tightens with each passing second, but I know this is what I need – a jolt to my system, a way to take control. My body shivers in response to the icy water, but I can't ignore the lingering heat in my groin. A constant reminder of the craving clawing at my gut.

My phone vibrates, and I scowl as I reach for it. It's Dimitri calling.

"What?" I snap.

He is breathing heavily on the other end of the line and doesn't waste any time getting to the point.

"Aleks is working with a goddamn punk to hack into our system!" His voice is thick with bloodlust. "That son of a bitch! He won't get away with this. We'll bring in every fucker who dares to betray us!"

I know these aren't empty threats. Erik and Dimitri are relentless, like goddamn bloodhounds on the scent. I know they won't stop until they've rooted out every last traitor.

I smile cruelly as I imagine the punishment we'll deliver to those who have dared to betray us. They'll learn the hard way that fucking with me and my empire is a one-way ticket to hell. The rage within me simmers, a fire that never quite goes out. It fuels my every move, my every decision.

Nothing will stop me from protecting what's mine. And I'll make damn sure those who cross me pay the ultimate price.

The chill of the ice bath only serves to sharpen my focus, my thoughts clear and precise. My muscles tense, and I feel the familiar surge of power rising within me. My resolve hardens like a steel blade. They'll soon learn what it means to cross Luka Ivankov, and when they do, they'll wish they'd never been born. Mercy isn't in my vocabulary. Their suffering will be a lesson to all who dare to challenge me.

My thoughts are interrupted when the door to the bathroom creaks open, and a young maid nervously steps inside. Her cheeks flush, and her eyes widen as she takes in my bare form. She's clearly struggling to look away from my exposed body as she searches for words.

"Sir… the… Ms. Svetlana ask me, um, the candidates for, uh, nanny are, um, ready for…the interview," she finally manages to squeak out, her voice barely audible.

With a grunt of annoyance, I stand up from the tub. Water trickles down my body in rivulets of ice-cold water. The maid watches with wide eyes as droplets chase down my ribcage and disappear into the "V" at my hips. The maid's eyes widen even further in surprise as she sweeps a look up and down the length of me, then licks her lips.

"Sir…" she husks out. Somehow, there's an invitation in that one word.

"The towel," I growl at her, then watch as she scrambles for the cloth on the rack and hastily hands it over. As I wrap the towel around my waist, I shoot her a glare that sends a clear message: she's on thin ice. "Tell Svetlana I'll be there in ten minutes," I growl, and the maid nods, her eyes downcast. She scurries out of the room, her cheeks still flushed.

I stare after her, perplexed. There'd been a time she'd have been bent over the tub right now, screaming my name. Today is not one of those days.

What the fuck is wrong with me?