Chapter 6 Sofia
SOFIA
“Can I be of assistance, Boss?” Oleg appeared at the doorway, raising his brows as he looked at the guard moaning on the floor, then at Andre.
I swallowed hard, my mouth so dry. Blinking once at the bloodied, bruised man on the floor, I frowned at Andre. He still watched me, livid but worried.
“He’s…” I pointed at the guard who’d tried to corner me and rape me.
His whispered threats of having his way with me would be a thing of the past. Because Andre had shown up and wanted to protect me, those nightmarish taunts would never be actualized as reality.
“He’s getting blood on the floor,” I said while Andre watched me, seemingly speechless as he inventoried me.
Checking me over, he stepped closer yet.
“I’ll handle it,” the other man said.
He must have come at the sound of commotion, but Andre snapped out of his obsessive need to look me over for any injuries.
“No, Oleg,” he told him. “Have Damon handle this. You’re supposed to be resting after the injuries from last night.”
Oleg grunted. “Ain’t you supposed to be resting too?”
I swallowed again, unnerved by the steady intensity of Andre watching me with so much concern. As if it broke something deep in his soul to think that I was targeted and assaulted. Him. This rival of my uncle. This dangerous killer. This… strong man who was supposed to be my fake boss.
A stranger to me.
“Yes,” I answered. “He should be taking it easy,” I replied to Oleg. “Nice and slow.” I furrowed my brow and set my hand on Andre’s arm, worried. “That was not nice and slow, Mr. Orlov,” I scolded gently.
He grunted and spared a glance at Oleg as he approached the guard on the floor. Without a word, he guided me out of the room.
Being near him confused me. I was here to spy on him and get out. Yet each time he sought me out and pestered me with questions about anything and everything, I was sucked into wondering how else it could be between us.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he steered me down the hall.
“Me?” I shot him an incredulous look. “You just beat him when you’re still recovering. You’re not supposed to exert yourself if you want those wounds to heal—”
He shook his head. “Sofia.”
“Mr. Orlov.”
Pulling me into his room, he closed the door and urged me to lean back against it. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” I wasn’t doing anything. I sure as hell wasn’t doing what I was supposed to accomplish here. I hadn’t gone into his office at all. No spying or snooping or copying anything was going on.
“Don’t call me that.”
I frowned.
His dark-blue gaze pierced me as he lifted his hand to cup my cheek. “Being so formal with me isn’t going to stop this.” Advancing toward me, he lowered his gaze to my lips. “Calling me by that name won’t discourage this need to be near you.”
I licked my lips, unsure how to handle the seriousness of his interest. Or how he watched my face like he was memorizing every line and feature to dream about it later. I furrowed my brow.
“And giving me that look wouldn’t stop me from worrying about whether that asshole hurt you.” He stroked his fingers over my cheek, a physical cue to relax my face.
“It’s not your concern if he hurt me.”
He growled, leaning in closer. “It is, Sofia.”
I shook my head, but with his hand on my cheek, I couldn’t really pull off the gesture. “You are my concern. Whether you want to be or not, you are.”
“I’m just a maid,” I protested. I wasn’t supposed to be anything to him. I wasn’t even supposed to have ever met him!
“Not after last night.” Piercing me with his blue stare, he kept me pinned in place and wanting more of his body heat to surround me. “Not after you showed your concern for me.”
“Oh.” I huffed, straightening my shoulders, as if jerking out of the moment. “That explains it. You’re trying to pay me back. I helped you last night and you helped me just now. Okay. That evens the score.” I tried to dodge him, but he didn’t budge.
“There’s no tally between us.”
“There’s nothing between us,” I argued frantically.
This desire that snaked through me was bullshit. Attraction was the last thing I needed to allow when I was here to spy for my uncle.
“Liar,” he taunted gently as he stroked his thumb over my cheek. It came close to where my uncle had backhanded me recently, where a bruise had almost completely faded. I didn’t flinch, but he reacted. His eyes darkened with anger. More worry had him tense.
“What have you gone through to be this tough?” he asked quietly, as if marveling at my presence. He searched my face. “Where have you come from to show up and make me…” He shook his head.
I waited, clinging to his words. I wasn’t making him do anything.
“Who the hell are you, Sofia?” He caressed my cheek again. “Who are you to show up and make me want to kill that asshole for messing with you?”
I opened my mouth to protest that I was just a maid.
It was the lie of a century, though, and just like I’d thought yesterday, that I couldn’t do this, I worried that I’d fail altogether.
The longer I succumbed to the heat of the moment and spent time with Andre, that was more time I was losing to find anything to send to my uncle.
And if I didn’t come through for him, my cousin would suffer.
“You are my concern,” he repeated. “So long as you are here, I will protect my household. No one has my permission to harass you.”
Hearing such words of a promise thawed my heart. He’d be my protector? He’d give a shit if I was unharmed?
Since my parents died when I was five, no one had filled that role. Not a single person came to my defense and looked out for me. The longing for someone to care, to protect, instilled a sharp and instant yearning in my soul.
“And so long as you are here…”
I winced at the echo of that term.
As long as I was here? I was only supposed to be here for as short of a trial as possible—all to steal details from him.
“What?” He frowned, picking up on how I’d winced. “What’s wrong?”
“This,” I replied. “This is wrong, Mr.—”
He used his thumb to tip my chin up. “No more formality.”
Weakening under his preference to be more familiar with me, I caved on a sigh. “Andre…”
A wicked smile took over his face. “Again.”
I frowned.
“Say it again.”
Oh, dammit. What are you doing to me? The heat that filled his eyes tempted me to play along. Just the idea of him hearing me say his name was so… thrilling.
“Andre, I—”
Closing the distance between us, he pressed his warm lips to mine. Heat spiraled through me. My heart thumped, pumping quicker, and the rush of excitement washed over me so potently that I couldn’t help but gasp.
“Mr. Orlov,” I said as he pulled back.
He narrowed his eyes, watching me.
“Andre,” I corrected. “This isn’t right.”
“It feels perfect.” And he kissed me again. And again. Drugging me. Tormenting me. Urging me to throw caution to the wind and respond in kind.
Shivers crossed over my skin. Every nerve ending tingled, sparked alive by the touch of his warm and hungry lips on mine. Shaken but still clinging to expectations of why I was here, I relished the fleeting elation of kissing this man who wanted to protect me.
He couldn’t, really.
He wouldn’t.
If Andre knew I was Sofia Giovanni, he’d kill me.
If he wanted to pretend he was my white knight to save the day, he wouldn’t be able to help me with Esmeralda. He wouldn’t be able to rescue me from the fate of being Roberto Giovanni’s niece.
But right now, as I sank against him and savored the illicit heat that accompanied his kiss, I wanted to be selfish. Just for a moment. In this stroke of a minute, I was helpless to reject him.
Perfect?
He’d called it. Because the sensation of his mouth commanding mine and coaxing me to open to him was unbelievably good. Kissing my family’s rival, my supposed boss, was so wrong, too.
And it was all that I needed to remind myself of before I pulled back. Out of breath and missing the warmth he exuded, I frowned at him.
“I…” I shook my head, damning how I craved his touch and feeling him pin me to the door as he caged me in against the unyielding surface. “I won’t be seduced, Mr. Orlov.”
He gritted his teeth, no doubt peeved that I was putting distance and a buffer between us with the use of his formal name.
“I won’t be seduced.” I stated it again so it could stick in my head, too.
Getting flirty and making out with Andre Orlov wasn’t my job. It wasn’t part of any expectations I could fulfil, and the sooner I could ease away from him, the saner I could feel.
He didn’t stop me when I gently pushed him back. In the same movement, I ducked to evade him, moving out from the door by slipping under his toned arm.
As he stepped back, I hurried to spin around and escape through the door.
Dammit. What was I thinking? I cringed and closed my eyes briefly as I fled this area of the house.
I hadn’t been thinking at all, swept away by desire when I never let it rule me.
Over the next week, I did my best to avoid falling into that same trap.
Andre complicated that goal.
He was home—all the time now—and always popping in where I was cleaning.
When I mopped the utility room, he snuck in close and caught me from slipping. Somehow, in his arms, I’d caved to kissing him again before logic returned.
Another day, when I was trying to reach up high to put a container back up on a shelf, he appeared and hoisted me up so I could make up for my lack of height.
As he lowered me back to my feet, our lips lined up and he’d kissed me until I caught myself grinding my hips against his.
The sound of Renee approaching spared me from surrendering any further.
Keeping my heart armored against him was no easy feat. Not when my pulse would betray me and go wild every time he was near. Especially not when I had a lapse and kissed him back to experience that soaring magic of forbidden affection.
It didn’t matter when he showed up, clearly tracking me in his building.
I was simply unable to turn him away. All these little blips of his presence slowly persuaded me to give in—just this once.
To accept his interest—one last time. To kiss him back and see how greedy his mouth and hands could get—only for a minute.
He never pushed too hard. He always backed off once he rendered me breathless, my lips swollen from his stolen kisses. Accumulating hits of this desire only had me wanting him more. wishing for so much more.
Impossible.
As I sat on my bed in the maid’s quarters and got my phone out—the burner that had my uncle and cousin’s numbers under encrypted contacts—I knew that wanting anything with Andre was stupidity.
My uncle’s texts proved as much.
You'd better get me something now, bitch.
His message was nothing but a cruel reminder of what he demanded of me.
You need to send me some news tomorrow.
Or else.
Tears burned at the edge of my lids. The small font of his text messages blurred.
Do I need to remind you of what happens if you refuse?
If you fail?
He wasn’t bluffing. He’d attached a video of Esmeralda sleeping, or trying to. Her leukemia weakened her so much. Other chronic issues compiled into a hefty threat against her well-being. Seeing her coughing and struggling to breathe broke my heart.
She won’t last long without her treatments.
I closed my eyes tight, feeling like a horrible fraud.
To Andre, for desiring him but unable to embrace him fully.
To Esmeralda, for wasting time I should try to focus on appeasing our uncle with stolen intel from Andre’s office.
And to myself—caught between duty and desire. Between the hint of security and bliss from the dangerous man my uncle saw as a rival… and the heart-wrenching guilt and loss of knowing my cousin would ultimately pay the price for my mistakes.