Chapter 3 - Lev
I lean against the closed door, taking in Lilah's reaction to the room that will serve as her temporary prison. Her eyes widen with terror, darting from one corner of the room to another as if searching for an escape route. She bites her full bottom lip, and I’ll admit, I feel a little sad for the girl. But just a little. I feel worse for my brother Boris, who doesn’t even know that his subordinate is stealing from right under his nose.
I have her here because I don’t want to trouble my brother. I can handle this myself with that traitor. His daughter just so happens to be collateral damage. This is what must be done to teach Lenny Ramsey a lesson.
"Welcome to your new home," I say with a sarcastic grin, trying to alleviate some of the tension building up in the room. I don’t deal well with unpleasantness. "Cozy, isn't it?"
Lilah's doe-eyed eyes snap towards me, the fear rushing into her eyes as though she’d almost forgotten I was here. "This has nothing to do with me, Lev. That’s your name, right, Lev?” she stammers, trying to form some kind of bond with me which I have no interest in forming.
“You can call me whatever you want, darlin’,” I grin at her.
A flash of hurt crosses her eyes at my lack of receptiveness at the olive branch she extends for us to reach grounds of familiarity. “Please, Lev,” she murmurs, clutching her hands together. “I don’t know why I’m being dragged into this mess.”
She doesn’t look me in the eye, probably terrified of me. I’ll admit, she clearly thinks she’s in grave danger, and I’m okay playing this game a little longer. It’ll be easier to keep her in check this way, and once Lenny clears up the accounts and she’s back home safe, who knows? She might even forgive me.
"Ah, see, here I thought it was quite clear," I say, kicking back against the door and standing upright to walk toward her. She cowers into herself, her eyes going wide, as I close the distance between us. "Your dear father betrayed my family, and now he'll pay the price."
"By kidnapping his daughter? Even though she in no way controls her father’s actions?" she questions back, chin lifted defiantly, showing a rare sign of anger at the injustice of it all. “That’s low, even for you.”
“Even for me?” I raise an eyebrow, noticing how she’s still trying to deny her identity, referring to Lenny’s daughter as she instead of me . “I didn’t know you were a fan. So tell me, what else do you know about me?”
Lilah frowns and looks away. She’s intriguing. She juts out her lower lip, trying to keep a face that says she’s not afraid when every fiber of her trembling body being says otherwise. “I know you’re from the Bratva, and that’s enough for me to make a conclusion on what kind of a man you are.”
“Have you ever read a book, Lilah?” I ask.
“What?” she sputters, looking confused.
It takes everything in me to not laugh. I keep a straight face and tell her it’s best not to judge a book by the cover.
"It’s not just the cover,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You kidnapped me, threatened me with guns. After all this, what am I to feel but threatened? Is it wrong of me to assume the worst?” her voice cracks, and tears spring to her eyes, which she quickly wipes away on the sleeve of her arm, clearly not wanting me to see her vulnerability.
A quiet silence falls over the room as she turns her back to me, and stares out of the window. I see her back rise and fall, like she’s crying quiet tears. For some reason, it annoys me. She isn’t in any actual danger here, for the love of God.
“Look,” I say, circling back to the topic at hand. “When someone messes with the Zolotovs, they pay the price. That’s about it. It’s nothing personal, love.”
“Perhaps,” she says at last, after a few moments of silence and then turns around to face me. Her eyes are red, wounded. “But no one’s going to be paying a price here because—news flash—Lenny Ramsey isn’t my father.”
“Afraid, are you? Enough to try to hide who you are?” I snarl back, enraged that she’s still set on playing games.
“Of course, I’m afraid,” she cries out, desperately. “But also just as honest. Please,” she rushes forward, her arms outstretched in a plea. “You have to believe me!”
"I have to believe nothing you say," I narrow my eyes.
“Then all of this would be for nothing,” she shakes her head. “Lenny isn’t going to come for me, because I’m not his daughter. What… what will you do with me, then?” her eyes widen in fear.
“Oh. I don’t know,” I shrug, thinking that two can play this game. “Kill you, maybe?”
She startles, almost jumping off the ground and backs away from me in rushed movements. It takes everything in me to hold back the chuckle threatening to spill out. Does she truly believe I’d kill her? I’m just having some fun, playing games, that’s all. It’s not like she’s doing anything different, by pretending to gaslight me into thinking she’s not who she is.
“Come on now,” I say, at last, needing her to look less afraid. “If you comply, it’ll just be easier for you.”
“Comply?” she suddenly looks up, that same rare fleeting flash of anger in her eyes. “Fine. You want me to lie? I’ll lie. I’m Lilah. Keep me here for however long you want, but eventually, you’d realize what a futile mission this has been.”
I stare at her, noticing the fire blazing in her chocolate-brown eyes. I can tell she's battling with fear, annoyance, and anger, yet determination seems to be winning as she lifts her chin defiantly. It's an interesting sight, one that piques my curiosity. I never thought the meek doe would have a fight in her, but I’m beginning to realize when she believes something is wrong, she’d fight it. No matter what, no matter whom against.
"Listen," she says, her voice now a defeated whisper. "I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you this. You've got this all wrong. I'm not who you think I am."
"Sure, and I'm not the guy holding you hostage," I retort, crossing my arms and staring down at her.
"Lev, seriously," she pleads, desperation creeping into her tone. "I'm not lying.”
“Nice try, Lilah,” I say dismissively, rolling my eyes. “But I know a liar when I see one, and right now, I see one standing in front of me.”
“I get it,” she says, stepping closer to me, her frustration evident in every word. “Your family was betrayed by Lilah’s father, and you want revenge. But I didn’t do anything to deserve this. I’m just a college student trying to make ends meet. I clean Mr. Ramsey’s home, that’s all.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Do you really expect me to believe that? You? A cleaner?”
Her father’s obviously trained her well to ensure her identity remains a secret, should such a situation ever arise. Clearly, she’s a good student.
"Believe whatever you want," she snaps, glaring at me, her patience wearing thin. "But when you find out you're wrong, don't come crawling back to me for forgiveness. Just FYI," she bellows at me. “My name is Pippa Anderson!”
She’s now furious. I swear, her emotions? They’re a rollercoaster. In one conversation, she’s gone from terrified, to judgmental, to protective, to furious. One thing’s for certain. She’s going to keep me on my toes. Usually, I’d be bored by now, but she keeps me reeled in, interested to see how long she can play this game of false identity.
"Trust me, Sweetheart," I say, smirking at her feisty attitude. "I might come crawling for many things, but forgiveness won’t be one of them."
She takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself down. "If you won't believe me, at least let me prove it to you."
"Prove it?" I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by her proposal.
"Give me a phone," she demands, extending her hand. "I'll show you texts, pictures, anything you need to see that I'm not Lenny's daughter."
"Nice try, but I'm not giving you a phone," I say firmly. "I'm not taking any chances of you contacting anyone."
"Then what do you want from me?" she asks, exasperated. "How can I prove it to you?"
"Aw shucks, Darling. What made you think I was a judge or jury? You got nothing to prove to me here.”
I watch as she takes a deep breath, preparing to share more about herself in an attempt to prove her innocence. But it’ll be futile. I know how this works. She’s obviously going to lie. Her father taught her to.
“I’m an innocent bystander,” she whispers, almost to herself, looking out at the barred window.
"An innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," I speak loudly so she gets the message and drops the act. “Convenient, isn’t it?”
"Or a coincidence!" she exclaims, her hands gesturing wildly. "Please, why can’t you deal with him directly instead of involving innocents in your mess?"
"Because, Sweetheart," I reply, "Lenny has a way of slipping through my fingers. And until I get what's rightfully mine, you're not going anywhere."
A soft gush of wind comes in through the grill in the window, and her soft brunette hair swooshes around her face, framing her gorgeous apple cheeks, moving away just enough to let me catch sight of her dimples.
I never noticed how pretty she was… until this moment. There's something about her—a fire in her eyes, a determination that I can't help but admire. She's nothing like her weak-willed, ass-licking father, and it makes this whole situation even more interesting.
"Since you have nothing more to say that would prove useful to me, Lilah," I say, smirking as I take in her defiant posture. “I think we’re done here now. Better make yourself comfortable. You’re going to be here a long, long time. You might as well get comfortable with that idea.”
With that, I turn to leave. The lock clicks into place, the sound echoing through the dimly-lit room. I lean against the door, smirking as I imagine Lilah pacing inside like a caged lioness. The thought of having her here, my unwilling captive, sets a thrill coursing through my veins. Lilah is unlike anyone I've ever encountered before—a spitfire with the courage to stand up to me, even in her current situation.
I shake my head and wipe the smile off my face. Now’s the time for such musings. I need to see if we’re any closer to getting our money back.
I walk to my office and call in one of my men.
“Daniil,” I say as soon as he enters. "Any news from Lenny?"
"Nothing yet," he replies. I frown and lean back, ready to dismiss him. I check all incoming communication on my end. No messages.
An hour goes by with no word from Lenny. Worry gnaws at the edge of my mind, but it's not about the Zolotov money. Instead, I find myself concerned for an entirely different reason. What if she speaks the truth and really is just an innocent girl caught up in this mess?
"Daniil," I say into the earpiece. "I need you to look into Lenny's whereabouts. Find out if there's any truth to what the girl said about this being a case of mistaken identity."
"Understood," Daniil replies curtly.
As I wait for my right-hand man to report back, I can't help but think about Lilah in that room, full of fury and frustration. She's nothing like the women I've known before—submissive and eager to please. She challenges me, pushes me to my limits, and somehow, I find it intoxicating.
Somehow, she’s embedded herself in my mind.
"Lev," Daniil's voice interrupts my thoughts as the door bursts open. "We found something. Lenny left his house, but we're still looking into where he went."
"Stay on it," I order, my heart racing. “I need that money back.”
“There’s something else.”
He slams his phone on my desk. An Instagram page pops up for Lilah Ramsey. There are tons of photos of Lenny and her on it. Daniil plays her current Instagram story.
It’s Lenny's daughter at some exotic beach resort. She's definitely not here, and she looks nothing like the woman I have captured. The girl in the pictures is skinny, with thin legs, flat breasts, and black hair.
A sinking feeling forms in my chest. I've made a grave mistake.
“Find Lenny,” I tell Daniil, dismissing him.
He closes the door behind him. The weight of my actions settles heavily on my shoulders as I realize I’ve got the wrong woman.
I quickly go on the internet and search for the name she gave me. A few profiles later, I find her on Facebook. Pippa Anderson is who she says she is. A college student who works part-time, on a scholarship.
It all checks out.
I lean against my chair, running a hand through my hair as I process the information I’ve gathered. Lenny Ramsey has abandoned his house, leaving no trace of where he's gone. The daughter, Lilah, is out of town, sunning herself on some beach without a care in the world.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, feeling the churning in my gut as it sinks in. Pippa was telling the truth—she's not the one I was supposed to kidnap. She's innocent, and yet here she is, locked up in this godforsaken room because of my actions.
My thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I only wanted to protect my family and get the money we're owed. Pippa isn’t the answer to that.
I should just let her go.
Yet despite the truth gnawing at me, something inside me refuses to let her go. She’s kept me thoroughly entertained, and things have been boring around here. I saw her rise from terror to defiance to rage, a curious change in her nature, depending on what I say. I wonder what other sides I can bring out in her. For some reason, I want to know just how fiery Pippa is capable of being. Besides, she’s not sore on the eyes…
But, she’s not mine to keep. It's an impossible situation, and for the first time in my life, I'm unsure of what to do next.
"Lev…" I mutter to myself. "You're losing your damn mind."
Perhaps I don’t have to decide right now. Maybe I should sleep on it and take a call tomorrow. My impulsivity landed me in this mess, and there’s no need to go make another impulsive decision. With that in mind, I head to savor a nightcap and tumble into bed after that nightcap turned to three. I toss and turn, sleep evading me for a while until the world goes dark.
At some point in the early hours, Pippa comes into my mind. Her lips are glossy, and her face? Enraged. She’s telling me I’ve got this all wrong, and I try to tell her I know, but she won’t listen. A strand of her hair is stuck to her glossy lip and that’s all I can see. In the midst of our argument, I walk over and reach out to remove that strand of hair. She looks up at me, biting her lower lip. She looks delicious, good enough to eat, and the next thing I know, my hands are fisted through her hair, she gets on her toes and I lean down, taking her lips in mine.
I wake up with a start, sweat running down my back. I look around my room, orienting myself. Did I just dream about Pippa Anderson? Jesus.
Is it really so wrong to want to keep her around…just a little longer?
I’ve been with dozens of women in my life. Most whose names I don’t care to remember. Yet here I am, having wet dreams about Pippa Anderson. If I had met Pippa in another situation, she’d still have me reeled in. That’s no mere coincidence. So, how can I let her go?
Perhaps I don’t have to. Perhaps she can still help me reach Ramsey, in time. Maybe she’s friends with Lenny’s daughter. I don’t know.
Deep down, I know I'm just grasping at straws, trying to find a reason to justify keeping her with me. And since she works for Ramsey, that’s reason enough for me.
Pippa Anderson will continue to remain my prisoner. It’s late tonight. But in the morning, she’s going to learn that.