Chapter 34

Chapter 33

Sophia

"ALRIGHT YULIA, if you have ten apples and I give you three more, how many do you have?" Miss Katya asks as she displays the red apple-shaped blocks for Yulia.

I stifle a yawn, catching Yulia's sparkling blue eyes as they intently focus on Miss Katya. Miss Katya is a vibrant young woman, her Russian accent lacing her words with a foreign charm as she animatedly explains simple addition and subtraction to Yulia. Brightly colored blocks and plush toys serve as teaching aids, making the concepts visually engaging for Yulia.

"A lot of apples!" Yulia giggles.

Miss Katya laughs back. "Funny girl. But how many are there?"

"Fifteen," Yulia chirps happily, her small fingers counting the apples one by one. Miss Katya praises her with a bright smile, encouraging her further.

Yulia's first class of the day is math. We sit in her "classroom," a small but well-equipped room tucked away in the expansive mansion. A whiteboard stands at the front, while colorful educational posters brighten the walls. A circular table occupies the center of the room, surrounded by smaller chairs – all meticulously arranged.

God, I'm beat.

I'm battling the urge to yawn yet again. The feeling of exhaustion seeping into my very bones is almost unbearable.

Only two hours of sleep, courtesy of the alarm clock's merciless shriek. My body is heavy with fatigue, and it's all I can do not to just collapse right here and now. It's a laughable situation, really. An adult woman, supposedly a caretaker, and here I am, more tired than the eight-year-old I'm supposed to be taking care of.

I watch Yulia and Miss Katya dive back into their number games, but my mind is elsewhere. It's stuck on last night, replaying scenes with Luka like a broken record. His touch. His eyes. A sensory overload that's branded itself onto every inch of my skin.

The look on Luka's face, the tenderness with which he held me, it all hinted at a trust that felt so genuine, so real. But if he knew why I was really here…

Guilt gnaws at the pit of my stomach, a constant reminder of the lines I've blurred, of the boundaries I've crossed. And then, another thought surfaces, unsettling me further – I haven't heard from Aleks yet.

Fuck! This mission, this mess… It's all his doing.

Luka. Just thinking about him sends a shiver down my spine. The memory of last night has my heart pounding in my chest.

What happened last night… It was wrong, so wrong.

But God, it felt so right.

Then came his panic. He came inside me, and reality hit him like a freight train. That look in his eyes was pure horror. It was something I hadn't expected. Then a pang of guilt hit me hard. It wasn't just about the sex. It was something else. Something I hadn't told him.

I can't get pregnant. Not since the accident. The one that took my parents.

Why didn't I tell him?

Because it wouldn't have made a difference, that's why. This isn't a man I'm planning a future with. Isn't a man who would care about not being able to have a family with me.

Yesterday was a mistake. A big, fat mistake.

"Ahhhh-haaaaaa!" All of a sudden, Yulia interrupts the rhythm of the math lesson and my own tangled train of thought. Her yawn, an echo of my own fatigue, pulls me back into the reality of the day. Without my consent, a matching yawn pushes past my lips. The lesson comes to a halt as both Yulia and Miss Katya swivel their attention to me, surprised faces morphing into amusement.

"Gotcha!" Yulia declares, pointing at me triumphantly. "Sophia's sleepy too!"

"Looks like I am," I concede, returning Yulia's cheeky grin. The weight of my tiredness is a vivid reminder of the twists and turns my life has taken.

"Did you girls have a late night?" Miss Katya asks, her voice a mix of curiosity and empathy.

I steal a glance at Yulia; a blush is blooming across her cheeks. "We might've read Beauty and the Beast twice," I admit, feeling a laugh bubble up.

Miss Katya's eyes twinkle, not with judgment, but with genuine delight. "That's a delightful tale. Everyone deserves a late night now and then." She turns back to Yulia, who perks up at her understanding.

"Yes," says Yulia eagerly, "and we all also made star-shaped pizzas last night – Luka, Dima, Erik, Max, Sophia, and me. Luka said he'd eat with me, but…he had to leave early." Her voice trails off, a hint of sadness clouding her face.

"Maly?ka…"

Luka's voice, heavy with an all-too-familiar charm, breaks the tranquility of our classroom, each syllable strumming on a chord deep within my heart. His presence is commanding, a power that charges the air around us, impossible to dismiss.

Luka leans against the doorway, fitting snugly in its frame as if it's been custom-built just for him. His white tee clings casually to his sculpted form, the fabric stretched across the broad expanse of his chest, effortlessly defining the muscles beneath. The outline of his biceps is striking, a display of strength not meant for intimidation but as a testament to countless hours of dedication at the gym.

My eyes are drawn lower to the lean muscularity of his legs, evident in the fit of his joggers, their casual appearance belying the intensity of a recent workout. A shadow of stubble adds a deliberate roughness to his appearance, hinting at a raw edge beneath the polished surface.

God, how is he so freaking gorgeous?

A hint of his aftershave lingers, a fresh and subtle scent that paints a vivid picture – of a hot shower washing away sweat, of grooming, of Luka preparing for the day. It's intoxicating, a scent that I could drown in, a scent that stirs something within me, a dangerous mix of dread and desire.

Stop it, stop it, stop it, Sophia.

I wish my stupid heart would stop hammering away in my chest.

Remember why you're here. Remember who he is.

"I thought I'd drop in on Yulia's study time," he announces, that slight Russian accent rolling off his tongue in a way that's unfairly appealing. He flicks a look at me, a barely-there connection, sparking a thousand unspoken words, a thousand what-ifs.

The connection fades as he draws his attention to Miss Katya, and in a gentlemanly tone, he greets her, "Good afternoon, Miss Katya."

Her cheeks instantly flush a delicate shade of pink at his direct attention, a fluttery smile blooming on her lips.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ivankov. We are just finishing today's session."

Miss Katya fiddles with a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear with a self-conscious grace that feels unnatural. She watches him closely as he strides further into the classroom, her eyes lighting up with an unmistakable sparkle.

The sight pricks a peculiar sting in my chest. It's ludicrous, but it feels like jealousy, a ridiculous, misplaced sentiment. I mentally roll my eyes at myself.

Get a grip, Sophia. You're acting like a character from a teenage drama.

"Luka!" Yulia's exuberant shout pierces through the tension I've managed to concoct in my mind. Her small frame is nearly a blur as she races toward him, her arms stretched out in anticipation of an embrace.

His rugged features soften with a warmth that's uniquely for Yulia.

"Maly?ka," he murmurs as he opens his arms, catching her in a hug that could shield her from the world.

"Did you try the pizza?" Yulia chirps, pulling back but keeping her small hands firmly latched onto his.

"Da, maly?ka. It was delicious!" Luka replies, ruffling her hair affectionately. He shoots me a glance, his expression unreadable.

"I thought you would be gone for a long time again." Her face clouds for a moment.

"Never," he says. "I have something special planned for you today." A smile plays at the corners of his lips. His gaze is filled with an affection that softens all his hard edges.

Yulia's eyes light up, clouds dispersed. "Really, Luka? What is it?" she asks eagerly, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

"That," he chuckles, tapping her nose affectionately, "would be spoiling the surprise, wouldn't it? You'll just have to wait and see."

"But I don't like waiting!" Yulia pouts, her little fists balling up at her sides. But her pout soon dissolves into giggles as Luka sweeps her up in his arms, spinning her around the room.

A surprise?

Part of me wonders what he has in store. I'm still taken aback by the warmth he displays with Yulia, so unlike the ruthless, cold mask he often wears. It makes it difficult for me to reconcile the two sides of Luka Ivankov.

Luka gently sets Yulia down, laughing softly. Turning toward me, his laughter fades, his face immediately hardens into its usual icy, unreadable expression.

"Sophia." His voice, deep and unsettlingly calm, catches me off guard. It feels as if an electric shock courses through my spine, setting my nerves on edge. I have to remind myself to keep my composure.

Why does his voice affect me so much?

"Is she free later today?" His tone is matter-of-fact, as if he hadn't just made my heart lurch in my chest.

Swallowing the strange lump in my throat, I manage to keep my tone steady, "Well, Yulia's got music lessons with Mr. Sergei at three and then art and crafts with Miss Olga at five."

He nods coolly. There's no hint of the warmth he had for Yulia a moment ago, just polite acknowledgment. The absence stings sharper than I'd like to admit.

What exactly were you expecting, Sophia?

"Get changed and meet us in the lobby in fifteen minutes," he instructs, his tone final. His eyes don't leave mine, but there's no warmth there, no softness – just a hard, distant formality that leaves me feeling empty.

"What? Where are we—?" I start to question, but he's already turning away from me, focusing his attention on Miss Katya.

"Don't keep us waiting," Luka cuts me off again. His voice is void of any warmth or familiarity, replaced by the icy professional tone he uses with all the other staff. The impact is immediate, a gut punch that steals my breath away.

I watch, rooted to the spot, as he leans down to Miss Katya. His voice lowers to a murmur, too low for me to catch the words. The soft smile on his face as he talks to her makes a surge of annoyance prickle at me. It's irrational, I know.

"Thank you for taking care of Yulia, Miss Katya." Luka straightens up, the softness in his eyes for Miss Katya contrasting with the indifference I receive. I clench my fists, irritation bubbling in my veins.

Don't let it bother you, dammit!

Before I can gather my thoughts, Yulia's voice cuts through my internal turmoil.

"Can't you tell me where we are going?" she asks curiously. He turns his attention back to her, the gentleness returning to his voice. The discrepancy fuels my frustration, my mind spinning with unanswered questions.

"You'll see, maly?ka." He winks at her. I grit my teeth. So much tenderness and none of it aimed at me.

Why the hell should I care, anyway?

"Where are we…?" I start to ask again, but my words die on my lips. There's a finality in his expression that makes me feel like I've been dismissed, like I'm not worth his time or his explanations.

"Get changed and meet us in the lobby," he repeats, not a hint of emotion in his voice. And with that, he scoops Yulia into his arms, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts, staring at the now empty doorway.

I drag myself toward my room, an unholy mix of anger, disappointment, bone-deep weariness, and a stinging slice of jealousy coursing through my veins. The weight of the world feels cemented on my shoulders, matching the emotional shit-show I'm carrying around.

I flop onto the bed, letting my face sink into my palms, surrendering to this damn whirlpool of emotions. It's only when I peel my face out of my hands that the sight of something on my table freezes me.

There's a paper there, a single, lonely note that screams out of place.

"Pillow," it reads. One fucking word. My heart stutters, my brain firing off questions like a malfunctioning machine gun.

A twisted knot of apprehension curls in my stomach as I turn to my pillow. Tucked underneath it is a burner phone. Its silent presence screams louder than a bomb.

"Fuck," I grind out, my mind stuck on repeat, hammering one name over and over. "Aleks."

But who the hell left this here?

Chapter 34

Luka

SEEING HER bolting down to the lobby shouldn't twist my insides, but fuck, it does. She's so insanely gorgeous, it's nearly unbelievable. I mean, who looks that good in a casual tee and skinny jeans? Her curves are displayed like a goddamn buffet, her face flushed with some unspoken urgency.

I wasn't expecting the vision that is her. A surprise, that's what she is. And let's be clear, I fucking despise surprises. Generally, when I'm caught off guard, it's a preamble to violence. But now, now I'm clued in. The next time she strides into my line of sight, I'll be ready. I won't let that captivating face, those shapely legs, or those arresting eyes distract me from my mission. And damn, that hair. The thought of running my fingers through those thick dark waves, tugging her head back to expose that tender neck of hers…

Fuck.

Suddenly, the recklessness of last night hits me. I've never fucked up like this before, always had my shit together, always used a fucking condom. But with Sophia, logic seemed to have flown right out the window. I'd screwed her raw without a second thought. The memory of that, the pure carnality of it, sparks something wild in me, something I haven't tasted before. I despise how she ties me all up, how she makes me lose control. But fuck me if it doesn't feel incredible.

A sudden thought hits me like a fist to the throat; the idea of a kid – a fucking baby. Now. The timing couldn't be more disastrous. It would be a complication, a burden. I'm in no fucking state for that. Not with everything that's going on. The idea of it sets off a wave of dread in me. I've always been a master of control, but Sophia…she's threatening to unravel all that.

Shaking off the paralyzing thought, I focus on the woman in front of me.

"You're late," I bark at her. My words are sharp, an intended jab designed to rile her up.

With a spark of rebellion, Sophia fires back, "Five minutes late, because I was putting together a lunch for Yulia, just in case—" She halts mid-sentence, looking to the car where Yulia is already buckled in the backseat. A familiar head pops up from the window. Max's tongue lolls out in a canine grin. His joy is infectious, if not a bit irritating.

"In case of what, Sophia?" I prod.

She chews on her bottom lip, clearly wrestling with whether to continue or not. The silence stretches, taut like a wire, until she finally caves.

"In case she gets hungry," she mutters defensively.

The audacity of her answer irks me. "You think I'd let her starve?" I retort, a brow cocked in challenge. She opens her mouth to respond, but I'm quicker. "Get in the car."

She glares at me, her pretty face a mask of stubborn fury. But she doesn't respond, not this time. Instead, she silently opens the car door, sliding in next to Yulia.

Fuck, I can be a real dickhead sometimes.

I glance at the rearview mirror, catching sight of Sophia seated next to Yulia. Yulia's soft snores fill the car; the kid's already fast asleep. A pang of something hits me – affection, maybe, or a trace of guilt. The day's barely started, and she's already out.

And Sophia – she's struggling to keep her eyes open. Her head tilts forward every now and then before she jolts awake, blinking in confusion for a second before the sleepiness takes over again. The sight stirs something in me, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest.

She must be exhausted.

Thirty minutes into the journey, the hustle of the city is far behind us. Now it's just open road stretching out ahead, flanked by green fields touched by the sun. The destination remains a mystery to Sophia, and I've kept it that way – until now.

"Where are we going?" Sophia's voice is quiet, competing only with the hum of the engine.

"Almost there," I say, leaving her in suspense a moment longer. Then, as I take a sudden turn off the main road, I add, "To our lake house."

Before she can digest that, we're there. Two guards snap to attention as we approach, their stiff postures relaxing as they recognize the car. They step aside to let us through, and I can see Sophia's eyes widen in the rearview mirror at the grandeur unfolding before her.

"Will we be back for Yulia's lesson?" she asks, her voice rough from fatigue. I look up to find her looking back at me in the mirror. The sunlight streams in through the window, lighting her face.

Fuck. She's beautiful.

"No. Cancel everything," I say, killing the engine as I pull up to the front of the house. I turn to her. "We'll spend the night here." Her surprise is unmistakable, her tiredness momentarily forgotten.

I watch her take it all in.

"It's the family retreat," I let slip as a wave of nostalgia hits me. This was our sanctuary, our slice of paradise away from the relentless mafia life. "This… This was our escape from reality. For a while, we'd come here and…pretend we were a normal family."

She tilts her head slightly, curiosity mingling with astonishment. It's clear she hadn't expected this revelation. And quite frankly, I hadn't expected to say it.

Pausing to draw in a breath, the familiar scent of the lake filling my lungs, I open my car door. I'm careful, mindful not to wake Yulia. Stepping out, I close the door behind me with a gentle click.

I open the door for Sophia. Her feet crunch on the gravel as she gets out of the vehicle. I can tell she's drinking it all in. It's a discreet luxury, a hidden holiday home that doesn't show off but blends with the surrounding nature.

It's been too long since I've come here, and I find myself taking it all in too. The meticulously maintained green lawn is framed by a copse of tall trees. To the side, a path winds toward the house through the garden.

And then there's the lake.

Stretching out beyond the residence, its calm waters shimmer in the sunlight, offering a view that could steal the breath of even the most jaded city dweller. Even me. A private deck reaches out into the water, a sleek boat tethered and bobbing lazily.

The atmosphere is cleaner here, the air smells of the lake instead of city smog. I watch as Sophia breathes in deeply, her eyes gleaming with both awe and a tinge of disbelief.

"This…is so beautiful," she breathes out, soaking in the surroundings. Just then, a bolt of fur shoots from the car as Yulia's dog barrels out in search of a spot to pee. I don't know if it's the air or the view, but I find myself laughing as the damn animal bounds around, falling over his own feet. Beside me, Sophia's husky chuckle has me looking down at her, and for a moment, the tension eases just a bit.

"Shhh," I warn, casting a glance at Yulia, who's still sleeping in the back seat. I reach for the car door, moving carefully to unbuckle her seat belt.

"Luka?" Half-awake, Yulia blinks up at me, extending her arms. I scoop her up, holding her close to my chest.

"Let's head in," I say to Sophia. She just nods, falling into step behind me. "It's 2468," I instruct her, pointing to the panel next to the front door. Sophia hesitates before complying, punching in the numbers carefully. There's a beep, and then the door swings open, revealing the inside of the house

Sophia's gasp is almost drowned out by the jingle of Max's collar as he darts inside, but I hear it loud and clear.

"Wow," she exhales as she takes in the interior. I can't blame her. The fusion of tropical and modern styles gives the place a warmth that's inviting, even as its luxury makes a statement.

"I'll put Yulia to bed," I say, indicating the wooden staircase with a nod. With Yulia in my arms, I take the lead, ascending the stairs, with Sophia following me. Her steps are tentative as she appreciates the details – high ceilings, elegant art pieces adorning the walls, the tasteful decor.

We make it to Yulia's room, where I gently lay down the sleeping child. Sophia stands in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself, observing in silence.

I look up from Yulia to find Sophia watching us. I catch a flicker of something in her expression as she meets my gaze – a glint of sadness, maybe, or just the strain of the long day. She's clearly tired, the shadows under her eyes speaking volumes. Yet there's an undeniable hardness to her, a steeliness that pulls me in.

"She'll be out for a few hours," I assure her, striding out of the room with quiet footsteps. Once I close Yulia's door, I turn around to find Sophia right behind me, standing inches away. It catches me off guard; she's so close I can smell her, causing an instinctive urge to surge through me.

"I want to kiss you," the words fall from my lips before I can think better of them.

What the fuck, Luca?

Her eyes widen, surprise quickly morphing into something else – contemplation, uncertainty. But she doesn't step away. Instead, she stands her ground, her breath coming quickly as I slowly close the distance between us.

Surrendering to the pull, I lean down, brushing my lips against hers.

There's a moment of tension, and then she softens, shifting from alarm to a curious kind of interest. I can see her wrestling with her emotions, uncertain but not unwilling. As I pull her against me, I can feel how her heart hammers against her chest, matching the beat of my own.

Slowly, hesitantly, she lifts her hands, placing them cautiously on my shoulders. Her breath is warm against my lips, and then she's kissing me back.

Our kiss deepens, our movements slow and explorative. It's not the fiery, demanding passion I'm used to, but something different. Deeper, more intimate. It stirs inside me something that feels strangely like hope, like a promise I can't quite understand yet. But I want to. I want to know this feeling.

When she pulls away, it almost hurts. "I'm going to go…prepare some food," she says huskily. Her cheeks are pink, and I want to cup them, stroke my thumbs over the soft color there, to feel the warmth of it.

Instead, I step back, giving her the space she seems to crave. Her gaze shifts, the earlier connection broken. She moves away from me, her footfalls soft against the wooden floor, leaving me alone in the quiet corridor.

Seeing her walk away, a strange tug pulls at my gut.

Dammit, what the hell is she doing to me?

She's stirring shit up in places that had been off-limits for too fucking long. But for good reason. It's safer that way. I don't let people in. People who get too close are either trying to kill me…or they end up dying. I don't take those chances anymore.

And that kiss? That was worth a whole lot more than words. She isn't just some random chick. She's in my goddamn haven, invading a place where nobody else has dared to tread. And I brought her here.