Chapter 23 - Vladimir
The cool night air hits us as Sofia and I step out of the casino's glittering entrance. Her skin glows under the light, and there is not a single strand of hair out of place on her head. I can't help but admire how she carries herself with such grace and poise.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" I ask, guiding her toward our waiting car with a light touch on her lower back.
Sofia turns those piercing green eyes on me, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Very much so," she replies, her voice cool and composed as always. "Though I must say, some of your associates could use lessons in subtlety."
I chuckle, remembering how they pulled our legs about marriage, opening the car door for her. "You handled them beautifully. I'm proud of you, Sofia. You fit right in."
As we settle into the plush leather backseat, I catch a glimpse of her raised eyebrow. "Did you expect anything less, Vlad?" she quips, smoothing her dress. "I am an Orlov, after all."
"Indeed you are," I murmur, unable to keep the admiration from my voice. This woman continues to surprise me at every turn.
The car pulls away from the curb, the lights of the casino fading behind us. I'm just starting to relax when my phone buzzes insistently in my pocket. Frowning, I fish it out, noting the late hour.
"Speak," I answer, my tone clipped.
As I listen to the frantic voice on the other end, I feel my expression darken. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sofia watching me intently, her earlier playfulness replaced by keen observation.
"I understand. We're on our way," I growl into the phone, ending the call with more force than necessary.
"Trouble?" Sofia asks, her voice deceptively casual.
I meet her gaze, seeing the sharp intelligence there. Despite my instinct to shield her, I know she deserves the truth. "There's been an incident at the diamond factory," I explain, already feeling the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders.
“What sort of incident?” she asks immediately.
“Some machinery malfunctioned. A few men are hurt, and the morale is low. People are afraid to work.”
“Oh no.” She clutches her heart, worry crossing her eyes. “Are the men alright?”
"I’m not sure. It seems we have a busy night ahead of us. Abram’s out of town, but I should gather Denis and Mark immediately." I pause, considering my next words carefully. "You should return to the mansion. It'll be late—"
"I'm coming with you," Sofia interrupts, her green eyes flashing with determination. The icy mask she often wears slips into place, but there's a fire behind it now.
"Sofia," I begin, ready to argue, but she cuts me off again.
"No, Vlad. If I'm to be your wife, I need to understand every aspect of this life. Including the troubles we might have to deal with. After all, you might not always be around." Her chin lifts defiantly, and I feel a grudging admiration for her strength.
I weigh the risks in my mind, studying her resolute expression. The smart move would be to keep her safe, away from whatever chaos awaits us. And yet…
"You're right," I concede, surprised by my own words. "But you stay close to me at all times, understood?"
A hint of triumph flickers in Sofia's eyes. "Of course, Darling," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I wouldn't dream of wandering off in a potentially explosive situation."
I can't help but chuckle despite the gravity of the situation. "Your enthusiasm for danger is concerning, Crimson."
Sofia's lips quirk into a small smile. "One of us has to keep things interesting."
As we speed toward the factory, I find myself grateful for her presence. Sofia Orlov may be a complication in my life, but she's quickly becoming one I can't imagine being without.
***
We reach the factory and exit the car. Her face is a mask of cool determination, but I catch the slight tremble in her hands as she smooths her dress.
"First time at a crisis scene?" I ask, my voice gruff.
Sofia's green eyes flick to me, a hint of defiance in them. "I've handled my share of family emergencies, Vlad. This is just… a different scale."
I nod, impressed by her composure. "Stay close when we enter. Things might be chaotic."
"I'm not a child," she retorts swiftly.
When we walk in through the doors, the scene that greets us is one of chaos. Two men lie on the floor, clutching their injured hands, blood pooling around them. Workers in various stages of panic and distress mill around while the foreman tries to maintain some semblance of order. The screeching of machinery adds to the cacophony, creating an atmosphere of urgency and tension.
Sofia’s eyes widen at the sight, her initial composure wavering for a moment before she squares her shoulders. I see her take a deep breath, steeling herself for what lies ahead.
“Vlad, we need to help them,” she says firmly. Before I can tell her another word, she screams at the foreman. “Call the ambulance!”
I watch, impressed, as Sofia takes charge in a surprising display of leadership. Her voice cuts through the chaos like a knife as she directs workers to give the injured men some space. She asks if anyone has any experience with first aid treatment.
A man raises his hand.
“Come with me.” She curls her finger at him and rushes toward the injured men. She quickly assesses their injuries, her hands gentle but sure as she starts first aid under the guidance of the helper.
As she works, her focus is unwavering, and her movements are efficient and practiced. The injured men begin to calm under her care, their pained cries turning into soft murmurs of gratitude. The workers around us start to relax as well, reassured by Sofia's steady presence.
I move closer to Sofia, standing beside her as she finishes bandaging one of the men's hands. She looks up at me fiercely. “He doesn’t have insurance,” she tells me.
“Don’t worry,” I say, without skipping a beat. “We’ll cover it.”
She nods in gratitude and reaffirms the employee, who sighs with relief.
"Nikita!" I bark, spotting my foreman and walking in his direction. Sofia’s handling the injured men. Because of her help, I can focus on what happened here tonight. "Report."
The stocky man hurries over to meet me halfway, sweat beading on his brow. "Boss, the polishing and faceting machine malfunctioned. The automatic safety lever didn’t go off, and the machine wasn’t secured well.”
I nod grimly at his explanation, feeling the weight of responsibility settling heavy on my shoulders. The workers' safety is my concern, and this incident was a glaring failure in our protocols.
"We need a thorough investigation into the equipment," I tell him, tone firm. "This can't happen again and no one is to use the machines until the auditors come in."
“Noted, Boss,” he tells me.
“And the ambulance is on the way?”
He opens his phone. “Another ten minutes or so.”
“Good,” I nod. “Get the men to slowly start their way home. There’s no point for them to mill around.”
With that, I turn back to Sofia. She looks up inquiringly from her spot on the floor, where she sits holding the victim’s good hand. I’m about to tell her that the ambulance will be here soon when a deafening crash echoes through the factory. Heads whip around, searching for the source. Then I see it—thick, black smoke billowing from the eastern wing.
"Fire!" someone shouts.
My heart leaps into my throat. "Sofia!" I call out, already moving toward her. The acrid smell of burning plastic fills the air.
As chaos erupts around us, my only thought is getting her to safety. I reach for her arm, but she's already moving—not toward the exit, but deeper into the factory.
"There are still people inside!" she shouts over her shoulder at me in the midst of the growing panic. “I can’t carry them out, but you can with the help of the others. I’m going to go warn the rest. I swear I’ll be out in five minutes.”
“Sofia, no! Wait!” I scream, but she doesn’t hear me.
I curse under my breath, torn between admiration and frustration. This woman will be the death of me. I hate to see her run into the danger.
I stay behind for just under a minute to order the evacuation of the injured. And then, I head in the direction Sofia went to find her and make sure she gets out.