Chapter 42

Chapter 41

Sophia

THE NAME crashes into my mind, a vicious reminder of the web I'm tangled in.

Aleks.

The man who has my brother.

The man who has my best friend.

The man who sent me into the lion's den to spy.

The man who murdered his own brother-in-law, Luka's father.

My stomach churns at the revelation, and for a moment, I fear I might lose my lunch right here, on top of this serene hill, in front of these majestic tombstones.

The same fear snakes up my spine, coiling tightly around my heart.

What am I to do now?

The air feels heavy around me, pressing down on my chest.

I need to breathe. I need to think.

I need to run!

But right now, all I can do is freeze, my hand still resting on Luka's shoulder. His hand comes up, gently clasping mine. The warmth, the spark that leaps at the contact…it's undeniable.

He slowly stands up and turns to face me.

Just when I thought things couldn't get more complicated, the universe proves me wrong. And for the first time since stepping into this life, I am truly terrified. Not just for me, but for Luka too. Because besides the chaos, as clear as the sky is, the truth is…

I'm falling for the man I am destined to betray.

"But- but why would…Aleks, your uncle, kill your father?" I blurt out. My eyes lock with his, desperate for answers.

Luka's face darkens, and I feel a pang of regret for pressing for details. But the question is already out there, hovering between us.

"My family's history is stained with blood and betrayal, Sophia," he says, his voice hoarse, filled with an unfathomable pain. "Aleks, he's not just my uncle. He's… He's the epitome of greed and ambition."

He breaks off, looking away. I see his jaw clench and his fists tighten at his sides. I squeeze his hand gently, offering silent support. He takes a deep breath and continues.

"Our mothers were from the Sokolov family, a rival Bratva. For years, Ivankov and Sokolov were at war. But eventually, my family's power grew. It became too much for the Sokolovs…and Aleks." His voice is low now, the words forced. "In a desperate act, Aleks sold his own sister, my mother, to my father as a truce. She was sixteen," he says, his voice strangled. "My father was thirty. They…they had me when she was twenty."

My heart pounds as the reality sinks in. It's too much, too terrible to comprehend. His mother was just a child herself, traded like a piece of property. And Aleks…Aleks is a monster. I feel sick, the revelation too heavy to digest.

I can't help but picture myself in his mother's place. A sixteen-year-old girl, given away to end a feud, her life decided by the whims of powerful men. The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Luka's gaze finds mine again. "That's why," he says simply, answering my original question yet leaving so much unsaid.

"Sixteen…" I echo, my voice strangled. My stomach churns at the very thought.

"It was a different time. Different rules," he says, his voice heavy with memories of a past I could only imagine in my worst nightmares.

"Did they…did they love each other?" I ask hesitantly.

A strange emotion crosses Luka's face, something resembling a mix of sadness and nostalgia. "They did," he admits. "They fell in love, eventually. And after my mother passed away, my father…he never looked at another woman again."

There's a silence that follows, a poignant reminder of a love born from a transaction. A love story that seems as if it was as beautiful as it was tragic.

"But Aleks…he had another motive from the beginning, didn't he?" I finally manage to say, my words laced with a bitterness that surprises even me.

Luka's gaze hardens, his grip on my hand tightening. "Da," he answers, his voice as cold as ice. "He did."

The anger in his eyes mirrors the rage coursing through me. I clench my fists, the reality of Aleks's deceit too overwhelming to comprehend. "He planned all this…from the very beginning."

I'm left speechless, a cold dread settling in my stomach. I knew the world I was stepping into was dangerous, ruthless even. But this…this is a new level of monstrosity.

"I am so sorry, so sorry to hear about your losses," I manage to whisper, the words a thin band-aid over a gaping wound.

My own guilt screams at me.

I'm sorry for being Aleks's puppet.

I'm sorry for playing the betrayer.

I'm sorry for being this fucking helpless…and a liar.

Luka looms over me, a tower of strength. The vast expanse of him, from the width of his shoulders to his towering height, intimidates me yet pulls me in. An irrational urge to disappear into his largeness, to find shelter from the storm inside, consumes me.

I take a step, closing the distance.

Reaching up, my hands curl around his neck. I tug him toward me, his rigid body meeting mine. His chest a broad, hard wall that makes me feel puny yet secure. I cling to him, my arms around him, the only lifeline in this fucked-up situation.

His heartbeat pounds against my ear, a thunderous rhythm that matches my own. His heat engulfs me, a sanctuary in the midst of turmoil. I close my eyes, shutting out reality, if only for a moment.

"Oh God, Luka," I say without thinking.

Everything is a fucking mess, but right now, I couldn't care less.

His arms snake around me, encasing me in a blanket of warmth. His hand rests against my back is big, reassuring. He tilts my chin up, a silent demand for me to meet his gaze. And then his lips graze my forehead, the kiss brief but loaded with unsaid promises.

"Krasotka…" His breath is a sweet breeze against my skin. "It's okay. I've got this under control."

But he doesn't.

He doesn't know how deep Aleks's claws are dug into his world. The truth stays stuck in my throat, unvoiced.

"Are you two all smoochy-smoochy now?" Yulia's voice interrupts the quiet. She's standing there, wide-eyed, Max mimicking her astonished expression.

I jerk away from Luka as if stung. Damn. We've been caught.

"Hungy time," Yulia announces, slapping her tiny belly. The seriousness on her face, the sheer gravity of her statement, yanks a surprised laugh from both Luka and me.

"Again?" Luka looks surprised. She nods, then giggles as her belly rumbles.

"Wait, that's not a thunderclap?" I mock, a feeble attempt to wash away the red searing my cheeks. "Here I was, thinking we're due for a storm, but it's just Yulia's stomach playing tricks!"

"No, silly!" Yulia giggles, her laughter a soothing balm to the tension knotting in my chest.

I sneak a peek at Luka, catching him mid-stare. Our eyes meet, and there it is – a gentle smile playing on his lips. Melting my heart.

Oh God, please don't do that.

"See that?" He gestures toward the vast, open sky, hues of pinks and oranges bleeding into each other. The sunset. Gorgeous, yet an unwanted reminder of time flying.

A swift check of my wristwatch confirms it – we've been here for hours, tangled in our problems, our fears. My fears.

"Let's head back," he suggests, his voice as calm as the slowly setting sun. His eyes, though, they glitter with something deep. A secret, maybe.

"Dinner time," he announces, stepping down and offering his hand to me.

I blink at him, shocked. "Dinner? I've barely digested lunch!"

Shit, my heart didn't just skip a beat. It's launched itself out of my chest and is probably halfway to the moon by now.

A tableau that can only be described as a ‘Pinterest wet dream' unfolds in front of us.

There, at the base of the hill and framed by the shimmering lake, is the deck. It's illuminated by the soft glow of fairy lights, entwined around the deck's rails, hanging from trees like glittering constellations brought down to Earth. In the middle stands a table laden with mouth-watering dishes, gleaming champagne flutes, and candles flickering gently in the evening breeze.

Hell, it's so perfect it's screaming for a #nofilter snap and at least a hundred hashtags.

#dreamy #sunsetdinner #goals and the lot.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so…Pinterest-perfect in my life," I mumble to myself, half-laughing at the ludicrousness of the situation.

A woman who looks like she's in her late sixties, wearing a maid's uniform, with a full head of gray hair pulled back in a neat bun, is waiting for us by the jetty.

"Tetya Ekaterina!" Yulia's shout interrupts the silence. The woman's stern face softens, a smile lighting up her features.

Luka walks over to her, his gait relaxed. He envelops Ekaterina in a hug, then plants a soft kiss on her forehead. They exchange words in Russian, their language foreign to me, but their easy familiarity needs no translation.

There's a layer of respect in his voice, an evident bond between them. Something tells me Ekaterina is much more than a maid to Luka.

She's family.

He turns back to me, his arm still draped around Ekaterina's shoulders.

"Sophia, this is Ekaterina," he says, a fond smile warming his features. "She was my mother's personal maid. After… Well, she's now here, taking care of my mother's resting place." He turns to the woman. "And this is…" he falters for a moment, looking at me, "Yulia's new nanny."

Nanny.

The word slaps me across the face. I'm taken aback. Of course, that's what I am. Nothing more. But why does it sting so much? What the hell did I expect? To be introduced as his girlfriend? His wife?

"Zdravstvuyte, I am Sophia," I find myself extending a hand toward Ekaterina, proud that I'd managed to grasp at least this much Russian in my scant two days on the job. I chance a look at Luka, seeking validation for my effort. God, how desperate I am, trying to impress him with basic greetings.

You idiot!

But when he grins back at me, all perfect white teeth and dimples, something warm unfurls in my chest. It's a heady feeling, a silent acknowledgment of my efforts.

"Privet Sophia," Ekaterina responds, her voice soft and warm.

She takes my hand in hers, the touch gentle yet firm. There's something comforting about her, something motherly, that instantly puts me at ease.

"Do you like the view from the hill?" Ekaterina asks me, her heavy Russian accent rolling off her tongue like a familiar song.

"It's beautiful," I admit, my gaze drifting to the picturesque scene around us.

"Come, let's eat," Ekaterina announces, herding us toward the laden table. She attempts to spoon-feed Yulia like a toddler, but the little girl bats her hand away, giggling.

"I'm not a baby anymore, Tetya!" Yulia protests, her laughter contagious.

"Yep, our little Yulia is turning eight next week," Luka chimes in, ruffling Yulia's hair fondly.

"When you were eight, Luka, you were still like a baby," Ekaterina teases, her eyes twinkling. "Remember how you were too afraid to sleep alone? Ania – your mother – and I took turns accompanying you to the bathroom in the middle of the night."

Laughter ripples out of Luka, deep and rich. It fills the air around us, causing my heart to flutter. It's a sound I could grow used to.

"Enough, Tetya Ekaterina," he mock-protests, shooting her a playful glare. "Don't ruin my tough-guy image."

Then, as if remembering I'm still there, he turns to me and winks. My heart does a strange somersault.

A moment of levity in an otherwise heavy day. It's a glimpse of the boy he once was, hiding behind the hardened man he has become.

"I remember when I was Yulia's age," he starts, his voice tinted with nostalgia. "Papa had just bought this land. The whole hill, the lake, everything you see."

I blink in astonishment.

The entire hill? The lake?

I couldn't even begin to comprehend that level of wealth and power.

"When he brought me here for the first time," he continues, lost in the memory. "I thought it was the most amazing place on earth."

"And your mother?" I ask, curious about this tender piece of his past.

"My Mama…she loved it here," he admits. I sense an undercurrent of raw pain in his voice. "She'd spend hours by the lake. It was her refuge."

His stories open a window to a past I've never imagined. It makes me look at him differently. It makes me understand him better.

Which is…a fuckup.

It's becoming increasingly difficult to remember why I'm here. My task seems to grow heavier with each shared laugh, each shared moment.

I'm a spy, not a nanny, not a…whatever this is. But God, it's getting so fucking hard to remember that.

Chapter 42

Luka

I WATCH as Sophia trots away with Yulia, my sister urgently whispering something about needing to pee. It leaves me alone with Ekaterina. There's a pause as we watch them disappear into the house.

"You do good with Yulia," Ekaterina finally breaks the silence, and I'm sure I hear pride in the words.

Switching to our native Russian, I confess to Ekaterina, "Yulia's an easy kid. She's really warmed up to Sophia, too. She thinks…well, she thinks Sophia is like Belle from Beauty and the Beast." I shrug. What do I know about kids' fairy tales?

Ekaterina chuckles at that, a sound that takes me back to simpler times. Then she looks at me warmly. "You seem happy, Luka," she remarks. "Truly happy. It's good to see you like this."

I can feel the truth of her words, the lightness in my heart, the calmness that wasn't there before. She's right. I am happy.

Her gaze moves to where Sophia has just disappeared with my sister. "I like that one. Keep her. She might be young," she begins, "but there's a depth in her eyes. A maturity. She'll be good for you, Luka. Good for Yulia as well." The silence that follows is pregnant with unspoken words. Then she murmurs, "I missed seeing you like this, carefree and happy."

Her words strike a chord, and for a brief moment, I mull over them. It's as if she voiced the feelings I've been pushing away. It feels strange, yet comforting.

Tears start to form in Ekaterina's eyes, a mirror of her emotions. "I missed this, Luka," she admits, her voice thick with emotion. "I missed this part of you."

I shake my head, the corners of my mouth pulling into a bitter smile. "This part of me, Ekaterina," I say, "this part is weakness."

Walking into Yulia's room, the sight that greets me strikes me dumb. Yulia is nestled against Sophia, both lost to the world in deep a sleep on a comfortable floor sofa. At their feet, Max is sprawled on the floor. It's a picture of peace.

There's a powerful urge to join them, to fit myself into that serenity.

What the hell is this feeling?

I can't stop my heart from yearning.

Yearning for more.

Pizdets.

I walk quietly over the carpeted floor, carefully extracting Yulia from Sophia's hold. Her sleepy smile as I tuck her into her own bed is a reward in itself. It was a good day, filled with laughter, so different from our usual lives.

I look back at Sophia. The sight of her sleeping so peacefully makes the walls I've carefully built around my heart shake. I should just leave her on the sofa and get out of here. That's the logical thing to do. But there's a drive within that's far more potent than common sense. It's the desire to have her near me, in my space.

This isn't good.

Ignoring the alarms in my head, I bend down to lift her. Her body curves naturally into my arms, a perfect fit. It's as if she belongs there.

Just get her to her room, Luka.

The mantra repeats in my head, trying to drown out the dangerous thoughts threatening to take over.

I'm halfway down the corridor when she stirs, her eyes fluttering open to reveal the hazy depths of confusion.

"Luka?" she mumbles, struggling to come to terms with her surroundings. Before I can answer, a sleepy smile spreads across her face. "Thank you," she murmurs.

"For what?" I question, genuinely surprised.

"For…everything," she replies. And before I can process her words, she lifts her head and places a gentle kiss on my cheek.

I'm screwed.

Still, I manage to respond, "You're welcome…krasotka," my voice sounding gruffer than intended. My breathing grows uneven. I can feel my cock jerk, aroused by her touch. The fabric of her shirt is thin, barely providing a barrier between us. The coolness of the room hardens her nipples against the material, their impression tantalizing as they graze against my own shirt.

Without another word, Sophia's hands slide around my neck.

How is it that I can't get enough of this woman?

I make my way down the hall to my room. Each step carries weight, as though my brain recognizes the line I'm crossing.

I gently kick the door to my room open, stepping inside, and the lock clicks into place.

The bed is invitingly soft in the dim room. I set her in the center of it, and she sinks into the mattress. Dark hair on white sheets – a striking image that sears itself into my mind.

It's too late to back out now. She's here, in my room, in my bed. This isn't just crossing a line; it's vaulting over it.

I see a question in her eyes, but no fear. That alone makes me feel a twinge of something I refuse to name. It's dangerous territory.

I reach out, brushing a loose curl from her face. The simple touch sends a jolt down my spine. Things are spiraling out of control, but it's too late to try to stop it. Much too late.

Her hand snakes out, catching hold of my shirt and yanking me toward her. Then she's kissing me. There's no mistaking the message.

She wants me too.

There's no turning back now.

Her lips attack mine with a desperation that screams of need. It's a kiss that wants to hold me down, pull me into her, making sure I don't leave her alone in this vast bed. It's a plea for comfort and a promise of hope all at once. And it's intoxicating, more heady than the most potent drink, more engulfing than the rage I've been nursing for the past year.

So, I give in. I kiss her back. Not just with depth, but with a raw hunger.

I let my tongue slide into her mouth, claiming territory. All the suppressed lust I've harbored for her since our paths crossed now unleashed.

Swiftly, I get rid of my pants together with the white panties she's wearing beneath her skirt, nestling myself between her legs. My cock teases her entrance, finding her wet and ready. Laid bare for me. She's so damn beautiful it's almost painful.

Her fingers are in my hair, firm yet frantic as she clings to me. "Let me see you," she breathes out, her other hand urgently yanking open my shirt buttons.

She tugs me back to her lips, her tongue stealing inside my mouth as if it's her turn to claim me now. It's a silent demand, echoed in the fervor of our messy kiss.

Carefully, I push into her, a primal claim wrapped in the guise of caution. She whimpers, her hips eagerly tilting to meet mine, each motion of her body a silent plea for more. My lips are on her neck, taking in the scent of her hair; I could get drunk on her.

"Yes, Luka…" Her fingers tighten in my hair, her body seeking more contact until there is nothing left but the rhythm of our bodies and the sound of ragged breathing. It begins as a slow burn, then the spark ignites, and our movements grow wild, fierce.

Sophia's nails dig into my back as she rides out the wave of her release. Her body convulses beneath mine, each gasp and moan she lets out only fueling my own desire. It's intoxicating, the way she reacts to each thrust, each touch. Her bitten lip, the clawing of her nails, the arch of her back – it all drives me closer to my own climax.

I'm teetering on the edge, about to pull out, when she whispers something that freezes me in my tracks.

"Luka," she pants, her eyes finding mine, "come inside of me.

It's unexpected, this request, and it catches me completely off guard. I pause, staring down at her in surprise.

She doesn't back down, though. Instead, she adds, "I…I can't get pregnant. Not since the accident."

Her words take a moment to sink in. But when they do, I simply nod. "Alright," I manage to say, my voice rough with unshed desire.

And with her encouragement, I release inside her. The sensation is mind-numbing, overwhelming, and it wrings me dry. Finally, I collapse on top of her, spent. When my head stops spinning, I roll off her, pulling against me.

We lie there in silence for a while, the only sound being our labored breathing. Slowly, her hand begins to trace circles on my bare chest, her touch light but electric.

"You're not going to ask me about it?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly. "Why I can't…" she trails off.

I look down into her face, finding an unfamiliar vulnerability there. "If you're not ready to talk, I won't push," I respond, my voice low, my words steady.

A beat of silence follows before she gathers herself and starts speaking, "The accident…it was more than my parents. It damaged my fallopian tubes…the impact, the doctors said."

Her words hit me hard. My chest tightens with a pain that isn't mine, yet it feels personal. "Sophia…" My voice is hoarse. I clear my throat. "I am sorry. I…"

"No, it's okay," she interrupts. "It's just…it's just a part of me now."

Suddenly it seems that a weight lifts off my chest, a weight I didn't even know I was carrying. "I was honestly worried the last time… That I had accidentally come inside of you," I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

Sophia snorts, a small chuckle that sounds oddly out of place in the heavy conversation. "You were?"

"I mean. My world, it's hard for a baby to fit in…" My words trail off yet again as I try to make sense of them myself. She doesn't respond, but I can feel her nod against my chest.

"How many people have you killed?" Her sudden question sends an icy jolt through me.

But I answer. She must know that I am not a good person. Whatever she said to me earlier, there's no denying this part of me. "More than I can count. But every one of them had it coming."

The subtle tension in her body against mine is enough to tell me she's taken aback. "What makes you say that…they had it coming?"

"The bastards who stab me in the back," I state flatly. I look up into the dim light above us. "They meet the worst kind of end."

I can feel her body go rigid, her breath hitching in her throat. "And," she hesitates, "how do you decide who…has it coming?"

"Easy," I reply. "If they harm what's mine, they've signed their death warrant."

Sophia's fingers stop their idle tracing on my chest. "I- I am not who you think I am," she mutters, pulling back a little.

"What do you mean?" The sudden change in her body language triggers an alarm in my head. Something is off.

"I- Luka, I don't know what to—" she begins, but is cut off by the sound of my phone buzzing on the bedside table. I reluctantly release her and reach over to grab the device. The name "Dimitri" flashing on the screen halts any further questioning I have for Sophia.

"I have to take this," I apologize, my tone terse. I could kill Dimitri for this interruption. She nods, retreating to the far side of the bed, wrapping the sheets around her as if they could shield her from whatever's bothering her.

"Of course," she responds, her voice barely audible.

Pulling away from Sophia, I press the phone against my ear. "Talk," I snap into it.

"Luka, we've got a problem," Dimitri's voice comes out hushed over the line. "We found spyware. In the meeting room and in your bedroom."

A chill races down my spine.

My fucking room?

"We've got damn rats, Luka. Right here, on our own fucking turf."