9. Sofia
9
SOFIA
T he gallery’s silence wraps around me like a familiar blanket as I catalog new acquisitions. A Degas bronze needs authentication, and these quiet evening hours let me focus without interruption.
A sharp crack splits the air. My head snaps up, my heart stuttering. The sound came from the back entrance.
Another crack, louder this time. The security panel near my desk flashes red—someone’s disabled the alarm system. My fingers curl around the heavy bronze paperweight on my desk.
“Check the office.” A rough voice carries down the hallway.
I slide behind the door, pulse thundering in my ears. Heavy footsteps approach.
The door swings open. A man in dark clothes steps through, and I bring the paperweight down hard on his shoulder. He curses, stumbling. I kick his knee, remembering those self-defense classes I took.
He goes down. I bolt past him, but his partner blocks the hallway. My gallery. My life’s work. Like hell am I letting them take it from me?
I feint left, then dodge right, ramming my elbow into his solar plexus. He doubles over with a grunt. The first man lunges for me, but I’m already moving.
Glass shatters somewhere behind me. New footsteps pound across the floor—more of them? My stomach drops.
But these newcomers slam my attackers against the wall with military precision. Three men in tactical gear appear out of nowhere, subduing the burglars with practiced ease.
“Ms. Henley.” One approaches me, hands raised. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, adrenaline still coursing through me. “Who?—”
“Private security firm. We monitor this area.” He speaks into a radio while his colleagues zip-tie the would-be thieves. “Police are en route.”
I lean against my desk, legs shaky now that the danger’s passed. These men moved like professionals, appearing exactly when needed. Something about their efficiency nags at me, but relief floods my system too strongly to question it right now.
The police take statements and then leave, and I’m gathering my nerves when the gallery door opens. Nikolai Ivanov strides in, his presence filling the space. Too convenient. Way too convenient.
“Are you hurt?” His gray eyes scan me with predatory intensity.
“I’m fine.” I cross my arms. “Interesting timing. Those men who saved me—professional security, they claimed. Would you know anything about that?”
His lips curve into the barest hint of a smile. “I told you I’d handle the protection.”
“I researched you like you suggested.” The words come out sharper than intended. “Ivanov Holdings. Import/export. Real estate. Banking. But there’s more, isn’t there? Things that don’t show up in official records.”
He moves closer, and I force myself not to step back. His cologne—expensive, subtle—wraps around me.
“And what conclusions did you draw from your research?”
“That you’re dangerous.” I look into those stunning gray eyes “That the rumors about your connections to organized crime might be true. That people who cross you tend to disappear.”
“Yet here you stand, confronting me directly.” His finger traces my jaw. “I can’t decide if you’re fearless or reckless.”
“The men who attacked you—” Nikolai’s fingers linger on my jaw. “Your previous protection service didn’t appreciate losing their income stream.”
“You mean the thugs who demanded monthly payments?” My hands clench. “They did this?”
“A foolish move.” His eyes darken. “One they’ll regret deeply.”
“You make it sound like—” I pause, processing the implication. People who cross him disappear. A shiver runs through me.
“Your response to the attack interests me.” He circles me slowly. “Those moves weren’t basic self-defense. Where did you learn to fight like that?”
I freeze. The memory flashes—training sessions I can’t quite place, muscle memory I shouldn’t have.
“I took some classes.” I know that’s not the whole truth. How I moved was pure instinct; I don’t really understand.
“No.” Nikolai stops inches from me. “You moved like it was second nature.”
My heart pounds. He’s right, but I never learned those skills. They just came when needed. Like other strange abilities that surface at odd moments—languages I shouldn’t know, reflexes that shouldn’t exist.
“I don’t—” I swallow hard. “There are things about my past that I can’t explain.”
His expression sharpens, predatory interest blazing in his piercing eyes. “You’re full of surprises, Sofia Henley.” He emphasizes my last name like he’s tasting it, testing it. “Or whatever your real name might be.”
That hits too close to home. The adoption records, the gaps in my early childhood—all the questions I’ve never been able to answer.
“You’re not what you appear to be.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “And now I’m very, very curious.”
The way he looks at me now—it’s different from before. Not just desire or possession. There’s an intensity, a focus like I’m under a microscope. Like he won’t stop until he’s uncovered my secrets.
Including the ones I don’t even know myself.
His fingers trail down my arm, leaving fire in their wake. I should step back and maintain professional distance, but my rebellious body leans into his touch.
“Your secrets,” Nikolai murmurs, his accent thickening. “A gallery owner doesn’t fight like that.”
“Maybe I’m full of surprises.” Despite the dangerous heat building between us, I refuse to back down, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” He steps closer, backing me against my desk. His cologne—subtle notes of cedar and something darker—makes my head spin. “Tell me, Sofia, what other hidden talents are you keeping from me?”
His hand slips onto my hip, making my breath catch. The touch is possessive and claiming. Part of me wants to push him away and maintain control, but a deeper, darker part craves more.
“You’re used to getting what you want, right?” I manage to keep my voice steady despite the tremors running through me.
“Always.” He traces circles on my hip with his rough fingers. “And I want to unravel every mystery you’ve wrapped yourself in.”
An ache settles deep inside me. This man is dangerous—to my business, carefully constructed life, and sanity. Yet I can’t seem to care when he’s looking at me like this.
“The attack tonight,” I say, trying to redirect. “Was it really about protection money?”
His other hand cups my face, tilting it up. “You’re deflecting. But yes. More importantly, it proved what I suspected—you’re not just an art dealer. You’re something else entirely.”
The way he studies me makes me feel like he can see past every wall I’ve built. The gentle brush of his thumb against my lip pulls a gasp from me.
“The question is,” he continues, voice dropping to a whisper, “are you ready to discover what that something else might be?”
My body answers his call without my permission, drawn to him like a moth to flame. My resistance crumbles as I lean into him, my breath catching at the hard evidence of his desire pressing against me.
His eyes darken, and the hand at my hip tightens possessively. The desk edge digs into my back, but I barely notice as his mouth claims mine. This kiss is different from our first—deeper, hungrier. When his tongue traces my lips, I open for him without hesitation.
A moan escapes me as his tongue delves inside, tasting, exploring. His other hand tangles my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss further. The controlled power in his touch sets my nerve endings on fire.
My fingers curl into his expensive suit jacket, pulling him closer. The hard planes of his body press against my softer curves, and heat pools low in my belly. His tongue strokes mine in a sensual dance that makes my knees weak.
This is madness. I should stop this. But as his teeth graze my bottom lip, rational thought dissolves. I arch into him, wanting more, needing more.
I yield to his embrace, gripping his jacket while he pulls back slightly. His ice-gray eyes lock onto mine, darkened with intensity.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his accent thicker than before. “Let go of that control you hold so tightly. Give in to Daddy.”
The word sends an unexpected shiver through me. My breath catches as heat floods my cheeks. I should be offended, should push him away for such presumption. Instead, I find myself pressing closer.
“I...” My voice fails as his hand tightens in my hair.
“Say it,” he commands softly. “Tell Daddy what you need.”
Something inside me breaks—a wall I didn’t know existed, crumbling under the weight of his words. My resistance dissolves like smoke.
“Please,” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice. “Daddy.”
His eyes flash with triumph and possession. The hand in my hair tightens further, tilting my head back as he claims my mouth again.
I break away from the kiss, my lips tingling and breathing unevenly. “I should get home.” The words come out rougher than intended.
Nikolai’s hand remains at my waist, his touch burning through the silk of my blouse. “I’ll drive you.”
“That’s not necessary.” I step back, needing distance to clear my head. “I can get an Uber.”
His expression darkens. “You think I’d let you enter a stranger’s car after what happened tonight?”
“I’ve managed just fine on my own until tonight,” I retort.
“Clearly.” His tone carries an edge that makes me shiver. “And how did that work out with your previous protection?”
I grab my purse from the desk, refusing to concede the point. “Fine. You can drive me. But you’re not coming up.”
A knowing smirk plays across his lips. “Sofia.” The way he says my name sounds like silk over steel. “A woman like you requires proper courtship. Dinner, wine, the full experience before inviting a man into her home.”
Heat floods my cheeks at his implication. “And you think you know what kind of woman I am?”
“I’m learning.” His fingers brush my chin. “Every moment reveals something new.”
I slide into the sleek leather seat of Nikolai’s Bentley, my pulse still racing from our encounter in the gallery. The interior smells of cedar and expensive leather, matching his cologne.
His hand finds my knee as he pulls away from the curb, thumb tracing circles through my silk pants. Even that simple touch sends electricity through my body.
“You’re trembling.” That lethal undertone in his voice sends a shiver of fear and desire through me.
“Eyes on the road.” I try to sound stern, but my voice comes out breathy.
He chuckles, his hand sliding higher up my thigh. “I’m an excellent multitasker.”
At a red light, he turns to me. Before I can protest, his hand tangles in my hair, pulling me into a searing kiss. His other hand wraps around my throat, not squeezing, just holding.
“Call me Daddy,” he murmurs against my lips.
I pull back, my heart pounding. “No.”
His grip tightens slightly in my hair. “No?”
“I won’t call you that.” I meet his gaze defiantly.
A dangerous smile plays across his lips. “It’s only a matter of time, malishka .” His thumb strokes my pulse point. “You’ll beg for it.”
The light turns green, and he releases me, returning his attention to driving. His words stay with me, carrying a truth I don’t want to acknowledge.
The Bentley glides to a stop outside my brownstone. Nikolai’s hand catches my wrist before I can reach for the door handle. He pulls me toward him, his other hand cupping my face.
“One more,” he murmurs.
I melt into the kiss despite my earlier resistance, feeling his hand wrap around my throat as his tongue teases mine. The leather seat creaks as my fingers curl into the fine wool of his jacket, drawing myself closer despite every survival instinct screaming to retreat.
When he finally breaks away, I’m breathless. His steel-gray eyes find mine, dark with promise.
“Sweet dreams, malishka .” His fingers trail down my neck. “Dream of me tonight.”
“You’re not as charming as you think you are,” I lie, pulse jumping under his fingers.
“You’ll agree to that date soon enough.” His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “We can’t keep torturing ourselves like this.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Ivanov.” I pull away before he can kiss me again, knowing my resistance won’t hold if he does.
His low chuckle follows me out of the car. “Goodnight, Sofia.”
I don’t look back as I unlock my building’s front door, but I sense his eyes on me until I’m inside. Only then do I allow myself to lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
The worst part is he’s right. This dance we’re doing can’t last forever. And deep down, I know exactly how it’s going to end.