14. Sophia
FOURTEEN
SOPHIA
A s the bartender prepares my order, my gaze drifts to the glass doors, where Maxim paces outside. The phone is glued to his ear, his free hand gesturing sharply.
My stomach knots. His body was tense the moment he answered. Did something happen?
I know he’s under a lot of pressure. On the way here, he gave me a glimpse of what he’s dealing with—someone trying to destroy his business while he’s pouring all his energy into finding the person behind my kidnapping.
A pang of guilt twists in my chest. He doesn’t say it outright, but I can see it in the tension in his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. He’s stretched too thin, and it’s because of me. He’s trying to protect me, to give me some semblance of peace, and yet here I am, adding to the weight he’s already carrying.
He doesn’t need this right now, I think bitterly, not when his world is already crumbling in other places. But then how do I tell him to stop? How do I tell him I don’t want him to fight for me when every part of me desperately wants to feel safe again?
I clench my hands into fists, the conflict raging inside me. I should be grateful—he’s doing everything he can to find the person who kidnapped me. But instead, all I feel is guilt for being one more thing on his already overflowing plate. I take a deep, shuddering breath, gripping my glass as the bartender sets it in front of me. As much as Maxim wants to protect me, I can’t help but feel like I’m being dragged into something far darker than either of us realizes.
“What’s a beautiful lady like you doing all alone at the bar?” a deep voice slurs behind me, and a clammy hand grips my shoulder.
The contact sends a jolt through me, and I stiffen. I shrug his hand off, but before I can breathe, it’s back again.
I turn, forcing my trembling hands to steady. “Don’t touch me,” I say, my voice sharp. “I’m not here alone.”
He smirks, leaning closer, his sour, alcohol-laden breath assaulting my nose. “I don’t see anyone, sweetheart. Don’t lie to me.”
My chest tightens as his words slither into my ears. I glance over his shoulder, searching the room for Maxim. Where is he? My eyes find him just outside, pacing with his phone pressed to his ear. Relief flickers, but it’s overshadowed by fear as the man leans closer, his hand brushing my lower back.
My body jerks like I’ve been shocked. “Stop,” I manage, my voice shaking, but he doesn’t listen.
“Come on, don’t be like that. We could have a good time?—”
The sound of his words cuts off abruptly, replaced by a bloodcurdling scream. My heart leaps as I whip around to see Maxim, his face carved from stone, twisting the man’s arm behind his back with brutal precision. The man cries out, his knees buckling, but Maxim doesn’t let up.
“You wanted to know where her boyfriend is?” Maxim growls, his voice low and deadly. He jerks the man’s arm higher, eliciting another agonized wail. “He’s right here.”
The bar falls deathly silent. My gaze darts around, desperate for someone—anyone—to step in, but the patrons are suddenly engrossed in their own conversations, their drinks, their meals. No one dares interfere.
The man squirms, opening his mouth to beg, but Maxim cuts him off by shoving a napkin between his teeth. “I don’t want to hear a word out of that pathetic mouth.” His grip tightens, and the man’s face twists in pain. “That woman you put your filthy hands on? She’s my life. My future. My everything.” Maxim’s blue eyes burn with possessive rage as he leans in, his next words sharp and deliberate. “She’s mine. Do you understand me?”
I stand frozen, my breath hitching at the raw ferocity in Maxim’s voice. The weight of his words presses down on me, leaving me torn between the safety he offers and the fear of his unrelenting control.
The man shakes his head desperately, tears streaming down his face. I know I should step in and stop this before Maxim goes too far, but my voice is stuck, my body rigid.
Then, somehow, I move. My hand touches Maxim’s arm, tentative, like approaching a wild animal. “Maxim,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
He stiffens at the contact, his breathing ragged. For a moment, I think he’ll ignore me, but then he shoves the man away with a sharp, almost casual flick. The man crumples to the floor, clutching his arm, and two staff members appear as if on cue. They haul him to his feet and drag him away without a word, disappearing into a side door.
I stare after them, my heart pounding. Where are they taking him? And why didn’t they stop this sooner?
Maxim turns back to me, his expression unnervingly calm. “Should we sit down?”
I blink, my mouth falling open. “Are you serious right now?” I take a quick breath and rephrase my comment. “We are both on edge right-” Maxim cuts me off mid-sentence.
“Don’t start, Sophia,” he says, his tone clipped, as if I’m the one being unreasonable.
“Don’t start?” I repeat, incredulous. “You didn’t need to do that, Maxim. I could’ve handled him.”
His jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. He steps closer, looming over me, his voice low but brimming with intensity. “I will never stop protecting you. Do you understand that? Never.”
The words hit me like a slap, and my chest tightens. “You didn’t need to protect me,” I snap, my voice cracking. “I’m not some damsel in distress!”
His expression hardens. “You think I’ll just stand by while someone puts their hands on you? After what happened? I couldn’t protect you then?—”
“And you think this makes up for it?” I cut him off, my voice rising with the sharp sting of his words. My heart feels like it’s shattering all over again. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re using my trauma to justify being an overbearing, possessive?—”
“Stop it,” he growls, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I shake my head, disbelief and hurt clawing at me. “Do you? Do you even know what you’re saying, Maxim? Because all I hear is how my kidnapping affected you.” My voice cracks, and I fight to keep the tears at bay. “I was the one they hurt, not you.”
The weight of my words hangs between us, sharp and suffocating. His face falters, and for a brief moment, I see something flicker in his eyes—guilt, regret, maybe even shame. But it’s not enough.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, turning away.
“Sophia—”
“No!” I snap, spinning back to face him. “You don’t get to make this about you. You don’t get to turn my pain into your excuse.”
He takes a step back, his hands clenched at his sides. For the first time, he’s silent.
I shake my head, my voice trembling. “You can’t fix me, Maxim. And you don’t get to try.”
Without waiting for his response, I walk away, my chest heaving, my tears finally spilling over. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to be anywhere but here.
Opening the doors, I step outside, heading toward the benches overlooking the ocean I noticed earlier. The salty breeze stings my face, cool and unforgiving, as if it knows the storm inside me. I sink onto the bench, clutching my arms around myself, trying to quiet my racing thoughts.
The rhythmic crash of waves should calm me, but it doesn’t.
The vibration in my pocket jolts me, and I pull out my phone. The screen lights up with Bobby’s name, and I answer quickly. I’ve been waiting for his call for days.
“Hi, Bobby. Thanks for calling me back,” I say, my fingers picking at the hem of my dress.
“Of course. Tell me about the patient you’re referring to,” he says, his tone light and professional.
I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s me. I’m the patient.”
The line goes silent for a few heartbeats.
“Are you finally ready to talk about your dad?” His voice softens, shifting to the gentle tone he uses with patients.
The mention of my dad sends a sharp pang through my chest, but I push it down quickly. Not now. I can’t add that weight on top of everything else. “No…it’s not about him,” I say quietly, my voice breaking. “It’s worse, Bobby. I didn’t know who else to call.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “You know I’m here for you, always.” There’s a brief rustle of papers on his end before he speaks again. “I’m free right now if you are.”
I glance around. The beach is empty except for a man walking his dog in the distance. Do it now, Sophia, while you still have the courage. If you don’t, you’ll just talk yourself out of it.
Taking a shaky breath, I begin.
I tell Bobby everything. Not about Maxim or the Mafia—that’s a secret I can’t afford to share—but about the kidnapping, what they did to me, how helpless I felt, and how every day since feels like I’m clawing my way out of quicksand. The words tumble out in choked fragments. Every pause is punctuated by the sound of my own sniffles, and I hate how raw and exposed I feel.
It takes longer than I expected to get it all out. By the end, my chest aches, as if I’ve been holding my breath this whole time. I’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour, my tears soaking into the ocean breeze. A strange weight lifts from my shoulders, though the memories still cling like shadows.
Not even Maxim knows the full extent of what happened.
Bobby’s voice is softer now, more deliberate. “Sophia…as your friend, I’m so sorry you went through this. But as a doctor, I have to tell you—you need therapy. Real therapy. Twice a week to start. We need to process what happened and work through these triggers together.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I knew this was coming. Healing won’t be instant, and unloading this onto him won’t magically erase the trauma.
“I’ll have my secretary call you tomorrow to schedule something,” he continues. “You’ve taken the first step, Sophia. Admitting you need help is the hardest part. Do you have a support system? Someone you trust when it gets overwhelming?”
My mind flashes to Maxim.
Maxim, who never leaves, even when I push him away. Maxim, who shoulders his own demons but still tries to carry mine. I nod again, the thought giving me a strange comfort. “Yes. I do.”
“Good. A support system is crucial right now,” Bobby says firmly.
I wish I could say the same about my mom, but the idea of calling her fills me with dread. She’d hover, smothering me with questions, reminders, and pity until I couldn’t breathe. Her intentions would come from a good place, but they’d crush me all the same. She wouldn’t understand that some wounds need space to heal.
Bobby exhales deeply on the other end. “I’ll let you go for now, but expect a call from my office tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Bobby.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Sophia. You’re stronger than you think.”
His words settle in my chest as I hang up, leaving me staring out at the dark ocean. The waves look endless, their rhythm relentless, and for a moment, I feel like I’m drowning all over again.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and look around, expecting to see Maxim somewhere close by. He’s always hovering, always watching, like an anchor I can’t decide whether I need or want to cut loose.
But he’s not here.
A flicker of panic claws at my chest. He wouldn’t leave me, would he? No. I shake my head. That’s ridiculous. He’s probably trying to give me space.
Still, the voice in my head whispers darkly, he’s gone. You finally pushed him too far.
The thought sends my heart into a tailspin. The air feels colder and heavier. My stomach twists. I’ve been fighting to prove I don’t need him, but the idea of him leaving me alone here, hours from home, fills me with dread.
I stand abruptly, scanning the area. My voice trembles in my head. He wouldn’t leave you. Would he?
I can’t shake the gnawing doubt. I need to find him.
Walking back through the doors, I’m greeted by a waiter who offers me a polite smile and gestures for me to follow him. I trail behind, curious, as he weaves through the elegant bustle of the restaurant. The clinking of glasses and murmured conversations fade as he leads me to a back room, away from the noise.
When he opens the door, my breath catches in my throat.
The sight before me is nothing short of magical. My heartbeat stutters then races as I take it all in. Hundreds of fairy lights hang from the ceiling, their soft glow shimmering like fireflies caught in an eternal dance. Two lines of tiny tea lights form a delicate path toward the table, where a dozen red roses sit in a crystal vase at the center, regal and striking. Scattered across the floor are hundreds of rose petals, their crimson hue vibrant against the polished wood.
I step inside, the air fragrant with roses and something warm and musky that’s distinctly him. My throat thickens, a lump of emotion forming as my chest tightens with love, gratitude, and something so profound, I can barely name it.
Slowly, I make my way to the table. Leaning in, I close my eyes and inhale the sweet, earthy scent of the roses. It feels grounding, like everything in this moment exists only for me. A smile tugs at my lips, soft and involuntary. I can’t believe he did this.
“Hi,” his deep, husky voice comes from behind me, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.
I whirl around to find Maxim leaning against the doorframe, watching me. His intense gaze feels like a caress, as if I’m the only thing in the room worth looking at.
He strides toward me in just a few steps, pulling me into his arms before I can even think. With effortless strength, he lifts me, spinning me in a circle. A laugh bursts out of me, light and unrestrained as the butterflies in my stomach take flight. For a moment, it feels like I’m floating, untethered by the weight of the world.
“This is beautiful, Maxim,” I whisper breathlessly when he sets me back on the ground. My voice is tinged with awe, softer than I expected, as if the words themselves can’t do justice to how I feel.
A faint smile curves his lips, his blue eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Let’s eat,” he says simply, his tone deep but tender.
With gentle hands, he guides me to the table and pulls out my chair. The gesture feels so natural yet so intentional, like every move he makes tonight has been carefully planned for me. As he takes his seat across from me, I can’t help but think this feels like a scene straight out of one of my favorite romance novels.
He has outdone himself tonight.