Chapter 23
Aurora
Alexei’s statement knocks the oxygen from my lungs.
I stare, certain I’ve misheard him, sure that this is a new twist in the nightmare of my life. Except, the giant solitaire diamond ring he shoved on my finger doesn’t lie.
After the other men left, Alexei barged into the guest room armed with a scowl and a ring. He issued a ridiculous claim that we’re getting married and then retreated, leaving me to chase after him.
His face remains impassive, those cold blue eyes revealing nothing as he watches me process his statement.
He prowls to the bar with that fluid, predatory grace that prickles my skin.
The clink of crystal against glass feels absurdly mundane in this moment of madness as he pours clear liquid into two tumblers and offers one to me.
I toss back the liquor in two gulps. The alcohol burns all the way down. “I’m your what?”
“Fiancée.” He says the word with the same flat tone he might use to comment on the weather.
Pleasant outside today. Only a few clouds in the sky.
“I told my Uncle Roman that you’re my fiancée.
That was my mother’s engagement ring, so don’t lose it.
And make sure you wear it around anyone else in the family.
She died when I was young, and I’ve had the ring in my safe for years, but everyone will recognize it. Wearing it will keep you safe.”
The room tilts beneath my feet. I press my palms to my temples and squeeze as if that might help me understand. “Un-tell him, then. Go back and say, ‘Just kidding, she’s just a random girl I abducted. Feel free to shoot her.’ I’ll take my chances!”
He sips his drink, those winter-cold eyes never straying from mine. “No, you won’t. He’s the Pakhan. The head of the Kozlovs. My family.”
My blood runs cold.
Three simple words. A statement of fact.
He’s the Pakhan. Even I know what that title means. Roman is the boss and patriarch. The man at the very top of Alexei’s bloody, brutal family tree. The pinnacle of the Russian mafia food chain.
My legs act before my brain issues the command.
They pace back and forth across the frigid concrete floor, each stride quicker than the last. My thoughts race even faster.
The man who just left—Roman—would kill me without hesitation.
I’m nothing to him. No, worse than nothing.
I’m a loose end. A potential witness. A problem to eliminate.
Unless I marry into the family.
I drag a hand over my face. “This is insane. Completely freaking insane.”
“Agreed. But we’re both still alive. And if I hadn’t come up with that idea, he’d have killed you.” The tumbler dangles from his fingers, glistening in the light as I pass. He tracks my every motion like I’m prey he’s not quite ready to pounce on.
I’m trapped.
If I stay, I’m his.
Tethered to Alexei in a way I never conceived of. My heart pounds for reasons I don’t want to examine too closely.
But if I run, where would I go?
He found me once. He’d find me again.
And Gio? He wants me dead. He’s already threatened Sam. Twice. Fleeing just places a bigger target on my sister’s back.
I’m caught between two predators—two organized crime families—with nowhere to run.
My body trembles as my mind races through the perils and inanities of the situation.
“But…fiancée?” The word tastes foreign. “We can’t get married.
I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know your favorite color.
You probably don’t even have a favorite color, do you?
If you say gray, I’m going to slap you.”
He snorts, then coughs. Either he’s masking a laugh, or the bastard choked on his vodka.
I could never be so lucky.
I spin on my heel, glaring over my shoulder. “You’re a Scorpio, aren’t you? Oh my god.”
His lips curve into a dangerous grin.
“This isn’t funny! We can’t get married. You’re a…” Criminal hovers on the tip of my tongue but instead, I finish lamely with, “…gun enthusiast.”
He quirks an eyebrow but remains silent.
“And I’m a cocktail waitress with an art degree I never finished because my grandmother died and I had to take care of Samantha.
Now I’m so behind on her tuition that they’re threatening to drop her from next semester’s classes.
I have three unpaid parking tickets, and my phone bill is two months overdue, and my credit score is a joke, and I can barely afford to buy groceries, and—”
“Money?” He sets down his glass, head tilting to the left. “You need money?”
I stop pacing, startled by the interruption. “What?”
“Mo-ney.” He enunciates the word as if I might not understand the concept. “You need money? I have plenty.” That statement—so simple, so matter-of-fact—leaves me speechless. “How much do you need?”
A high, brittle laugh escapes me. “I don’t want your damn money!”
Even as the words leave my mouth, Samantha’s face flashes in my mind. Her future. Her safety. Everything I’ve sacrificed for her hangs in the balance.
Alexei crosses the distance between us in three long strides. Before I can retreat, he cups my cheeks.
My pulse drums a frantic beat in my throat.
“Listen closely. You don’t have a choice. I don’t have a choice. You were a witness. Roman knows that.” His thumbs trace small circles on my cheekbones, the gentle motion at odds with his harsh words. “If we don’t get married, you die.”
Coldness seeps into my veins, starting at my crown and washing downward until even my toes go numb. I suck my lower lip between my teeth.
His eyes drop to my mouth, linger there, then lift to meet my gaze again. “I was supposed to kill you. But for some reason I’ve yet to comprehend, I didn’t. Now I’m saving you the only way I can.”
The confession skates down my spine. I can’t look away. Can’t break free from the unexpected depths of his gaze. Behind the icy calculation, beneath the violence and the control, lurk other emotions. Jagged and painful. A darkness shot through with desperate hope.
Brutal killer…but not a threat to me. This brutal killer wants to keep me safe.
For a split second, I see a man imprisoned by his own rigid rules. Alexei wants me alive. As his “fiancée,” I’ll be an asset for him to protect.
Gio Falcone wants me dead. The choice isn’t between freedom and a cage. It’s a choice between a cage and a coffin.
“Money?” The words slip out, barely above a whisper.
His hand tightens, his thumb pressing against my lower lip. “How much do you need?”
“A fuckload.” I grimace at how mercenary that sounds. “Little sisters in college are expensive.”
His gradual, predatory smile slides over my skin like a caress. “Good.”
I inhale, steadying myself against the dizzy feeling his proximity inspires. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Not a random number. That amount will pay for Samantha’s tuition, her books, her housing for the next two years, and her medical school.
The amount will launch my sister into a life I can only dream of.
Will ensure that no matter what happens to me, Sam will be okay.
And I can finally pay off the debt I’ve been juggling for years.
If I’m trapped, I’m claiming something for myself too. I’m securing the one thing that matters.
I expect him to balk at the amount.
To laugh.
To negotiate.
Alexei doesn’t even blink at the outrageous price I declared. He simply pulls out his phone. “What cash app do you use?”
My ears start to buzz, but I share my information. He shows me his screen to confirm he found my account.
The buzzing in my ears grows louder, approaching a dull roar.
He taps the screen a few times, fingers moving with casual confidence. Then he slides his phone back into his pocket. “Done. Samantha and your bills are all taken care of.”
Just like that.
Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Gone from his world and transferred into mine. Like ordering a pizza.
Or fifty zillion pizzas.
“Where’s your laptop?” The question tumbles out before I can second-guess myself, but I need to secure the money before he changes his mind.
He gestures toward the sleek computer on his desk in the corner. I collapse into the chair, aware of him hovering behind me. Even without his touch, his presence is a physical weight against my back.
He has me wait an hour before checking my account. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I log into my bank.
The number is dizzying.
Six figures where there should be three.
Next, I navigate to Northwestern’s payment portal, access Samantha’s account, and transfer most of the money for her tuition, housing, meal plan, and books. Everything. Paid in full. My finger hovers over the confirm icon. The remaining balance will cover my outstanding bills.
With one click, Samantha’s future is secure. No more worrying. I’ve accomplished the only thing I’ve fought for since our grandmother died. And my sister will never have to know what I’ve done to keep her safe.
Even if I die tomorrow, nothing can stop her from living her life to the fullest.
I press the icon.
For the first time in years, the tight, painful knot in my chest loosens. Whatever happens next, Samantha will be okay. She’ll finish school. She’ll have her life. She’ll enjoy everything I’ve always wanted for her.
I close the browser and erase the history. When I turn around, Alexei is watching me with that same unreadable expression, but I notice a new gleam. Possessive. Proprietary. Like he’s bought me rather than paid for Samantha’s education.
Maybe he has.
The thought should frighten me. Instead, a new idea forms, one sharp enough to cut through my fear.
If he owns me, he also owns my problems.
My spine straightens as I face him. “If I’m going to be yours, people will look into me. They’ll find my sister. What happens when one of your enemies decides the easiest way to get to a Kozlov is through his sister-in-law?”
His eyes spark. Not with surprise, exactly. More like respect for a chess move he didn’t anticipate.
He gives a single, sharp nod. “If you’re mine, she’s mine. I’ll protect her.”
I swallow hard. “Okay.”
A wave of relief crashes through me, so profound I nearly stagger. This sensation leaves me lightheaded. This beautiful, terrifying man can protect Samantha in ways I never could. Shield her from threats I can’t even fathom.
“What else?” Alexei slices through my thoughts.
My mind draws a blank. “What do you mean?”
“What else do you want?” He asks like it’s simple. Like we’re haggling over a car or a house rather than the terms of my engagement-disguised captivity.
What else is there but Samantha’s safety? “How about another glass of vodka?”
A dangerous smile touches his lips. “Now’s your chance, lyubimaya. Being mine comes with privileges. What do you want?”
The buzzing in my ears has calmed down. My nerves aren’t quite so frayed. “Are we…negotiating?”
The smile spreads, warming his eyes with what might be amusement. He prowls back over to the bar, pours more vodka into the two tumblers, and hands one to me. In the exchange, his fingers brush mine, and a spark shoots up my arm.
Though I accept the drink, I hesitate before I sip. Half an hour ago, I was so shocked that I barely tasted the first pour. The vodka is smooth and cold, nothing like the cheap stuff I’ve consumed before. The liquid burns a clean path down my throat, warming my chest.
What do I want? Truly? For myself? No one’s ever asked me that before. Beyond survival, Samantha, and fear, what’s left of Aurora Madeline Bailey?
The answer rises up, stunning me with its clarity.
“My art.” The words come out soft but certain. “I want to do art. But…I need supplies.”
Surprise softens Alexei’s features. Clearly he expected a different reply. Maybe a flashy, meaningless object or luxury item.
After a long, searching look, he nods. “Done.”
We’re physically closer now, though I don’t remember either of us moving. The air between us thickens with things unsaid. He comes to within an inch of me, not touching but near enough that I feel the heat radiating from his body. Vodka mingles with the clean scent of his soap.
I press a finger against the solid wall of his chest. A barrier. A boundary. “And one more thing.” I try to sound like a cool negotiator instead of a kidnapping victim with her heart lodged in her throat. “No sex. Not until we’re married.”
Perfect loophole, since the actual marriage will never happen. There must be some way out of this forced arrangement.
The atmosphere shifts. The lazy confidence in his posture vanishes, replaced by a coiled, predatory stillness. A darker emotion rises to his features. One that conjures the thrill of the hunt.
“Fine.” He cradles my face, his thumb stroking along my jawline in a touch that’s both possessive and oddly gentle. “No sex.”
I resist the urge to rear back. “Good.”
He leans in, his lips brushing mine in the barest whisper of contact. More of a promise than a kiss. “But I will have every other part of you. How and when I want it.”
My body hums with a traitorous electricity I refuse to acknowledge. This is survival. This is strategy. Nothing more than a necessary evil to keep myself, along with Samantha, alive.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway, as I breathe against his mouth. “Deal.”
I know, even as the word escapes my lips, that I’ve just bargained with the devil. But I’m alive. Samantha is taken care of.
It’s not freedom.
It’s not safety.
But it’s something. And it’s mine. For now, that will have to be enough.