6. Cathy
6
CATHY
T he man in charge of the New York Bratva is my new boss. That’s not good.
He leads me down a narrow, dimly lit hallway, his footsteps soft but steady as he moves through the shadows. My heart pounds, echoing in my chest as I follow, feeling the weight of the silence between us, heavy and oppressive.
Head of the Bratva? Well, that explains the pay and the armed guards. But why would he hire me? And why am I sure I know his voice from somewhere?
He stops in front of a door at the end of the corridor, turning to glance back at me, his gaze intense, holding something I can’t quite read. With a slight gesture, he opens the door and steps aside, inviting me in.
I hesitate, glancing into the room beyond. The air feels thicker here, the shadows deeper, like this room has secrets woven into the very walls.
Heavy velvet curtains hang from tall windows, framing them in deep crimson. The thin slivers of moonlight that manage to slip through cast faint, eerie patterns on the floor.
The walls are paneled in dark mahogany, a rich wood gleaming faintly in the low light, but also absorbing all warmth, making the room feel colder.
Every instinct screams at me to turn back, but there’s something magnetic about this place, about Ivan himself, that pulls me forward.
I take a breath, then step inside, feeling as if I’ve entered not just a room, but a world entirely of his making.
The door clicks shut behind me, and suddenly, the room feels smaller, as if it’s pressing in on me, drawing me closer to him with every breath.
Ivan stands a few feet away, watching me closely. His face is unreadable, his dark eyes intense and fixed on me, drawing me in even as they seem to keep me at a distance.
I feel as if he’s looking past my defenses, peeling back layers I’ve spent years building, leaving me exposed in a way that’s both terrifying and strangely comforting.
His gaze is so steady, so unyielding, that it feels as though he’s dissecting me, pulling apart each memory, each scar, each hidden vulnerability.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and smooth, each word sharp and deliberate. “Do you know why you’re here, Cathy?”
My stomach twists, the question catching me off guard. I force myself to meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance despite the nervous flutter in my chest. “I’m here because I needed a job. Ms. Grant hired me a couple of hours ago.”
A faint smile touches his lips, cold and knowing. “A job, yes,” he murmurs, as if he finds the word amusing. “We all want to work, don’t we? Some reason to get out of bed in the morning. Earn our keep.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re in my home because I allow it. No one enters or leaves here without my say so. Not alive, anyway.”
His smile grows even colder. “I’ve been watching you for some time, Cathy. Watching your choices, your mistakes. I thought I might have to come snatch you at the aisle. Thought you might never leave that piece of shit fiancé of yours.”
A chill runs down my spine, but I try to keep my composure, refusing to let him see my fear. “You don’t know anything about me.”
His eyes gleam, a hint of something darker sparking in their depths. “Oh, but I do.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that wraps around me like smoke. “I know you’re twenty-three. I know you worked as a waitress until you moved to New York to live in a shitty little death trap.
“I know about the nights you spent wondering if your mother would ever be proud of you. I know how you tried to find traces of your father in old photos, searching for answers that never came. And I know about your ex-fiancé, Jimmy Holland. And the night he tossed you out onto the roadside as if you were nothing but trash.”
I feel the color drain from my face, his words striking with surgical precision, each one hitting a nerve I thought I’d buried. My heart races as I try to make sense of it, my mind spinning.
How could he possibly know these things, these intimate, broken parts of me? The realization seeps into me, sending a fresh wave of fear. He’s been watching me, even stalking me, his eyes hidden in the shadows of my life.
And then he says the words that send an ice-cold shiver through me. “I was there that night, Cathy. I saw what he did to you, and I was the one who called for help. Don’t you remember?”
His expression softens, but only a fraction, and he nods, his eyes unblinking. “Yes,” he says simply. “I saw everything.” There’s no hint of apology or regret in his voice, only an unyielding certainty, as if this had always been the plan. “I arranged for those vacancies to go into the papers. I made sure you got to the top of the applicant list when you applied.”
“But why?”
“Because it is simpler for the spider to wait in the web than for it to chase the fly, don’t you think?”
A part of me wants to scream but the weight of his gaze holds me captive. I feel trapped, like I am caught in a spider’s web.
His gaze narrows, as though he can see the spark he’s ignited, and a faint, almost predatory smile touches his lips. “You deserve justice,” he continues, his tone coaxing, as though he’s offering me a gift. “Revenge. I can give you that, Cathy. Make sure Jimmy pays for what he’s done. But there will be conditions.”
Part of me wants to say no, to back away from the dark promise in his voice, but there’s something in his words that pulls me in, that makes me want to lean closer, to hear what he’ll say next.
It’s as if he’s casting a net around me, each word a thread that tightens, drawing me closer to him. I catch myself almost leaning forward, hanging on every syllable, and quickly pull back, trying to regain control of my own thoughts.
“What conditions?” I ask, my own curiosity betraying me.
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that his presence fills the room, suffocating and thrilling all at once. “If you accept my offer,” he says softly, his voice like velvet, “I’ll make sure no one will ever harm you again—not even the memories of your past. You’ll be safe for life. Protected. Untouchable.”
The words send a shiver through me, a dark promise that stirs something deep within. It’s almost too tempting, the idea of finally being free of the fear that’s haunted me, of having someone take on the weight of my pain, to shield me from it.
For a moment, a brief, flickering moment, I feel a glimmer of hope. But then his gaze sharpens, an intensity lurking behind it that makes my stomach twist.
I can feel it in the air, unspoken yet present, the understanding that this isn’t a selfless offer. Ivan wants something in return, something he hasn’t revealed, and that thought prickles at my skin, sending a warning through me.
I should walk away, keep my distance from him, but it’s as though I’m caught in a web of his making, his gaze stripping away my defenses and unraveling every carefully guarded thought.
“Why would you do this for me?” I ask, forcing myself to speak, to break the tension that presses down on me like a weight. “What’s in it for you?”
He tilts his head slightly, watching me with a look that’s both amused and dangerously knowing. “Let’s just say I have my reasons,” he replies, his voice soft but edged with steel. “And I think you’ll find some align with yours. Marry me, give me an heir, and we both get what we want.”
For a moment, his words hang in the air like a thunderclap after lightning, splitting my thoughts wide open. Did he just say... marry? My brain scrambles to process it, but my mouth moves faster. “What?” The word bursts out, more a gasp than a question.
He doesn’t flinch. His expression remains disturbingly calm, his dark eyes locking onto mine like a predator fixing on prey. “You heard me,” he says, his tone as unyielding as stone. “Marry me.”
My legs feel weak, like the ground beneath me might give way. The air grows heavier, pressing against my chest until I can barely draw a breath. Is he joking? This has to be some twisted game.
My gaze flickers to his lips, searching for even a hint of a smirk, but they remain firm, unyielding. I feel a rush of heat crawl up my neck, followed by a shiver that makes my skin prickle.
“You’re... serious?” My voice trembles. I take a step back, bumping into the edge of the bookcase behind me. The sharp contact jars me, but it doesn’t snap me out of the surreal haze.
“Deadly serious,” he replies, his voice low and deliberate, like the final toll of a bell. The glint in his eyes sharpens, amusement giving way to something darker. Something absolute.
A nervous laugh escapes me, brittle and foreign. “You’re out of your mind,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears, drowning out reason.
My stomach churns, a sick cocktail of fear and disbelief tangling with something I don’t dare name. Something that feels a lot like the pull of gravity when you’re too close to the edge.
His lips quirk ever so slightly—not a smile, but a promise. “Quite the opposite.”
My heart slams against my ribcage, a frantic, caged thing. The room feels too small, his presence expanding, swallowing the air. I turn, dashing toward the door, desperate to escape the suffocating pull of his gaze. The smooth wood beneath my fingertips feels cool and solid, a lifeline against the chaos swirling inside me.
Before I can even twist the handle, his voice cuts through the air, cold and calm, stopping me in my tracks. “The doors are locked, Cathy. I told you, no one leaves without my permission.”
A chill courses through me, his words sinking in like ice. I glance over my shoulder, breathless, and meet his gaze. His face is composed, almost amused, as if he’d anticipated my reaction all along.
His eyes hold a quiet menace, a dark certainty that sends a fresh wave of fear pulsing through me. The realization that I’m truly trapped with him is like a vise tightening around my chest, my breaths coming shallow and quick.
“I’m head of the Bratva,” he says, his voice smooth and unwavering. “I take what I want, and I want you. For your part, you will soon come to see that you can’t resist me. Why fight the inevitable? You will marry me and give me an heir. I will give you the one thing you want more than anything else.”
His words wrap around me like chains, each one tugging at the last remnants of my resistance, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“What do I want?” I ask, my voice trembling.
As I turn back to face him, his dark smile spreads, a gleam of satisfaction lighting his eyes.
“The truth.”
He steps back from me, the shadows swallowing him, cloaking him in an aura of quiet, commanding power as he fades into the darkness.
“Welcome to your new home.”