28. Sophia
TWENTY-EIGHT
SOPHIA
“ I don’t need a babysitter,” I say flatly, my voice dry as I stand in the entry of my foyer, watching Andrei, half-asleep and yawning, holding two coffees.
“I’m home,” I add, looking past him with a hint of sarcasm. “With Maxim’s men guarding the house, I think I’m well protected. So you can head back home and get some much-needed rest.”
His posture stiffens, and his eyes widen. Yeah, Maxim isn’t as clever as he thinks. I’ve known about the men following me everywhere, and lately, their numbers have doubled. I didn’t say anything to Maxim because they haven’t gotten in my way—they’ve just been reporting my movements, something I tell Maxim anyway. This whole thing is pointless.
I try to shut the door, but Andrei stops it with his boot.
“He didn’t send me.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”
“I’m serious. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
My brows furrow. “Why are you here then?”
“Can we talk inside?”
I sigh, stepping aside, holding the door open for him. We move in silence toward the living room, where he sits on the couch, gesturing for me to sit. I refuse. My body is too wired to relax right now, especially with him here. The tension in the air has me on edge.
“Well?” I ask after a few long minutes of silence. Andrei offered me one of the coffees, but I was already jittery enough. I’ve had three cups already. The alarm on my phone went off this morning at six, alerting me to movement outside. I foolishly checked the feed and saw Maxim’s car parked in my driveway. When I reviewed the footage, I realized he hadn’t left. He stayed in his car all night, watching the house. The fact he’d rather do that than trust the men he pays to keep watch—it’s clear he’s losing control. It made me so angry. I couldn’t go back to sleep.
I spent the next few hours in the gym, trying to work off some of the frustration.
“I came by to make sure you’re doing alright,” Andrei says.
I blink, taken aback. “What did you say?”
Andrei has never supported my relationship with Maxim. He never outright said it, but the way he looks at me—like I’m an inconvenience—speaks volumes. He might be grateful for what I did for Elena, but his glares when he thinks no one is looking say otherwise.
Andrei mirrors Maxim’s movements—tilting his head and running his fingers through his hair with a nervous exhale. I can feel my heart drop. “Maxim really didn’t send me, Sophia. I genuinely came to check on you.”
“Why now?” I ask, crossing my arms. “Why do you suddenly care how I’m doing?” Not once did he visit me after the kidnapping, even though he was there, talking to Maxim outside my room. I know he got updates from Luca and Maxim, but he never took the time to check on me. Why does he care now? What does he want?
He shifts uncomfortably, his gaze darting away from mine. He flicks an invisible piece of lint off his shirt, and I roll my eyes. It’s a move Maxim makes when he’s uncomfortable, trying to seem composed while still looking intimidating. I’ve never noticed how similar they are. Of course, I’ve never been alone with Andrei long enough to pick up on these subtle gestures.
“I understand your hesitation about me being here,” Andrei says, finally meeting my gaze. “I’m sure Maxim told you I was against your relationship from the start.”
“No, he didn’t,” I respond, “because Maxim loves you, and he wouldn’t break your trust by sharing something that’s not his to say. But I’m very observant, Andrei. I figured it out on my own.”
He shifts in the chair, his expression softening. “It wasn’t about you as a person, Sophia. It was about this side of him you brought out. He lost focus on everything. All he wanted was to follow you around like a lost dog, talk about you, be with you.” He exhales, tightening his hand into a fist, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it, as if he’s reliving something painful and letting it go.
“Never in my life had I seen Maxim care about anyone like he cares about you, and you were pushing him away every chance you got. It made me angry. I couldn’t get past it. All I saw was the conflict inside him—the brother I knew was disappearing, and I couldn’t do anything. I blamed you for it.”
He leans back, his gaze falling to the floor. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I acted like an asshole when I should have tried to understand you instead. It wasn’t until the wedding that I saw who you really are. You’re the person who’s healing him. You’re his chance at happiness.” He chuckles bitterly. “Who am I kidding? You’re his only chance.”
He pauses then adds more quietly, “It’s not until recently I realized—us Volkov men don’t open ourselves to love easily, but when we do, we give everything. Our body, our soul. Nothing else matters.”
I’m glad he isn’t looking at me right now as tears begin to fall, each one sharp and relentless. “Why are you telling me this now, Andrei?” My voice breaks, and I struggle to keep myself together.
“Because of the ‘ex-girlfriend bullshit’ comment you made yesterday,” his tone deepens, anger bubbling beneath the surface. I step back, inching closer to the gun I keep hidden behind the couch, just in case. I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but I’d rather be close to it if he snaps. “You’re not over. Whatever stupid fight you had yesterday—it’s just that. A stupid fight.”
“Please, stop,” I manage, my voice trembling with sobs. “Just stop talking.” I take a shallow breath, trying to regain composure. “You don’t understand, Andrei. The fight wasn’t stupid. Maxim came here to break up with me. He thought if he ended things, he could keep me safe. He’s so obsessed with my safety, he can’t think about anything else. For fuck’s sake, the DEA is investigating him, and he hasn’t even done anything about it.”
I pause, the weight of my own words sinking in. “I want to catch the person behind this too, probably more than any of you, but at what cost? His sanity? What happened to all his ambition? The dream of going legit? You said it yourself—he’s losing himself. It’s not because he’s a lovesick puppy. It’s because he’s obsessed with keeping me safe.”
I lower my head, picking at a loose string in my pants. “I understand why he’s acting like this. He’s controlling. It’s in his DNA. And after what happened with my kidnapping, when he couldn’t protect me or find me right away—it changed him. I can’t fully understand it because I’m not in his head. But it’s obvious it took a toll.”
I let out a shaky breath. “All I want is for him to stop obsessing over my safety. I want him to accept I can take care of myself. He did a great job training me, after all. I want him to focus on his life again too.” I whisper the last part to myself more than to Andrei.
A realization hits me then, lifting a weight off my shoulders. I finally understand why I’ve been so adamant about not wanting Maxim to obsess over my safety. It’s not just that I want him to believe in my ability to take care of myself. It’s that I don’t want to be the reason his life falls apart. I don’t want him to regret me later on, when everything he has worked for starts crumbling because he’s been too distracted by me. He’s so focused on my safety that he’s losing sight of everything else.
How can I make Maxim, a man who’s so single-minded, understand what I’m feeling? He won’t truly get it. He’ll blame himself for my feelings, for not being able to fix everything. Maybe it’s better if I just keep my distance. There’s so much healing that needs to happen before we can ever make this work. I need to heal from my trauma, and in a way, Maxim needs to heal too. He needs to accept that none of this is his fault, that there is nothing he can do to change the outcome. And I need to stop resenting him for not saving me.
How can I beg him to stop worrying about my safety and, at the same time, be angry at him for not protecting me?
“Then you need to talk to him about all this,” Andrei says, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
I lift my head and glare at him. “You don’t think I’ve already tried? This has been going on for some time. I thought it would stop when he started training me. But, as you can see, it didn’t.”
“Maxim is a bit hard-headed. He loves to live stuck in his ways.”
I snort a laugh. “A bit hard-headed? The man’s head is harder than a rock.”
We both burst into laughter, the tension between us easing with each chuckle.
“I am sorry about everything, Sophia,” Andrei says, his voice quieter now.
“Apology accepted, Andrei.” We share a warm smile, and for a while, it feels like the weight between us has lifted. Then we talk about everything and anything. We share stories about my childhood, about how life has been for him as a new dad, and he tells me tales of him and Maxim growing up—about all the pranks they used to pull on each other and others. He even shares a few things about my father, the little he knew.
Then he says something that catches my attention. “If you want to know more about your dad and the time he spent with us, you should ask Maxim. They were always together, every chance they got. Maxim looked up to your father like he was his own.”
That piece of information hangs in the air, and my brain short-circuits, unable to process it properly. My father…with Maxim…? My mind races, and I try to push through the whirlwind of thoughts.
I’m not sure how much time has passed before the front door opens. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and my heart skips a beat. I don’t need to look to know it’s Maxim coming this way.
He stands in front of me and Andrei, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, a bag in the other. “I…” He looks from me to Andrei, a mixture of confusion and discomfort flickering across his face. “Um…”
Andrei raises an eyebrow, glancing at me. I shrug in response.
“Good morning,” Maxim finally mutters. I’ve never seen him so speechless. He’s doing his best not to ask what Andrei’s doing here, but it’s clear from the redness creeping across his face that he’s struggling.
“He came to check up on me,” I say quickly, trying to defuse the situation before Maxim combusts. I do not need brain splatter as a new decoration.
Maxim shifts his focus fully to me. “I was on my way to the dealership and wasn’t sure if you’ve eaten lunch yet.” He hands me the bag, and I take it. I expect him to let go, but he doesn’t—and neither do I. We hold onto the bag, just staring at each other for far too long. Andrei shifts uncomfortably, trying to make himself scarce.
He clears his throat. “I’m going to go check on my wife. I’ll be back later with Luca.” He pats Maxim on the shoulder and walks out.
The moment the door closes behind him, Maxim speaks, breaking the silence. “He really came to see how you were doing?”
“Yes, he really did. It was a shock to me too.” I tug on the bag, signaling him to let go, and he does. “Thank you for the food.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Sophia.”
The awkward silence stretches between us. I’m not sure what to say to him. Finally, Maxim breaks it. “Do you have any plans today?”
I inwardly sigh in relief that I don’t have to come up with something to say. “I’m going to go to my mom’s house. She isn’t home, so I’m going to use the time to look for something I need.”
“In your father’s office?”
“Yes.” My eyes involuntarily roll. This man doesn’t miss a thing, does he? “Danny interrupted me, and I couldn’t get what I needed.” His nostrils flare at the mention of Danny.
“What are you going to do at the dealership?” I ask, hoping to shift his mind from Danny and remove the murderous look that has taken over his usually calm demeanor.
His eyes brighten. “I’m going to deal with a pest problem.”
“Is it of the two-legged variety?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. But who am I kidding? Not even the sun’s rays could brighten this situation.
He nods, his face serious again. “I’ll tell you more later. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Then go before you get stuck in traffic.” He hesitates, one leg poised to leave while the other remains firmly rooted to the ground.
“Go,” I urge again.
Maxim closes the distance between us, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Ya lyublyu tebya.” I love you. His voice is low, but there’s a softness to it I’ve never heard before. A breath catches in my throat as I look up into his ocean-colored eyes. Will I ever get over how beautiful he is?
There are so many emotions swirling in his eyes, and I can’t quite pinpoint them until our gazes lock. The uncertainty I saw moments ago disappears, replaced by the all-consuming fire I’ve come to know from him. He leans in, his lips only inches from mine, and warmth spreads through every fiber of my body. The effect he has on me is infuriating.
A sense of emptiness overwhelms me. All I want to do is touch him, kiss him, hold him—but I don’t. Nothing will change if I give in too easily. He’ll never stop with the lies, the half-truths, and his constant obsession with keeping me safe. If I give up now, nothing will change between us.
“Sophia, I?—”
I pull back, my voice firm as I cut him off. “Stop apologizing, Maxim. Please.” My chest tightens as I gather my thoughts. “You and I will have a chance to talk. But right now isn’t the time. We need space to cool down so we won’t say things we don’t mean. We’ve got other, more important business to take care of.”
“Nothing else is more important than you, Sophia. Nothing else matters. I can reschedule the meeting. It’s not a problem.” His voice cracks with visible strain, and my stomach churns. “Please, just talk to me.”
If I keep looking at him, I’ll break. If he can’t be strong right now, then I will. I turn my face toward the wall, focusing on something, anything, other than him.
“Go.” My voice is quiet but resolute.
I don’t want him to reschedule; I want him to handle whatever he needs to, even if it means taking care of someone the only way he knows how. I want us both to move forward from my kidnapping. I want him to trust I’ll be safe even if he’s working. I’m trying so hard to move past this, and he needs to too.
“Sophia, please don’t do this. Talk to me.” He wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me close, and pressing my body against his. I feel the wetness on my shoulders before I hear the soft sobs. My heart breaks, a sharp ache I can’t describe.
“Please, baby. Please talk to me.” Another sob wracks his body, and with it, another tear forms in my chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I don’t respond. I don’t move. I don’t even breathe, afraid if I do, I’ll collapse in front of him, and I can’t afford that right now.
He rests his head on mine for a few moments before pulling away, his arms falling slack at his sides. I hear the door click shut behind him before I allow myself to shatter. I cry and scream until my throat feels raw, until the well of tears runs dry, repeating my new mantra: it will be worth it in the end. It will be worth it in the end.
Eventually, the numbness takes over—my heart and body return to some semblance of control. But doubt creeps in. Is this really worth it? Will pushing him past his breaking point help our relationship, or will it destroy us by forcing him to move faster than he’s ready for?