Chapter 9 - Lev
I pace back and forth in my room like a caged bear, unable to escape the thoughts that consume me. Pippa's words ring in my ears, her accusations of entitlement stinging more than I'd ever admit. I clench my fists and fight the urge to punch the wall.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, feeling an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability. My usual reckless behavior wars with this newfound desire to prove Pippa wrong. I find the whole situation unfair, given how she knows nothing about me. At the same time, it confuses me to feel this angry over her words, when her opinion shouldn’t matter so much. She’s my captor, so why am I walking around, beating myself up over some words which probably meant nothing?
"Could it be that she’s right?" I ask myself, stopping in my tracks. I’ve seen how self-made she is, without even a grain of the support I’ve been given my whole life. Is that why to be called entitled by someone so self-sufficient hits harder than it should? "Am I really just another entitled bastard who thinks the world owes him something?" A bitter laugh escapes my lips, the sound mocking and hollow. It's not a question I ever expected to ask myself, let alone all because of a woman.
But maybe she is right. Memories rush back of my brothers picking up the pieces from the chaos I’ve caused. I think back to the time when I was in Russia as a child and stole the neighbor’s dog because I wanted a pet. My brothers bought me my own dog, returned the one I stole, and had to compensate the owner for the distress I caused him. I think back to a few years earlier, when I got into trouble with the mafia in New York, undercutting them in the gambling world on their terrain, ignoring the agreements my brothers had made between the Bratva and the mafia. In their quest to buy me forgiveness, Boris had to pay out over ten million to the mafia.
They never said a word to me. I groan and place my head in my hands. Time and time again, I’ve fucked up, and Boris and Damien have paid the price.
I take a deep breath, reeling from the weight of my own mistakes. Pippa's words echo in my mind, a constant reminder of my shortcomings. With a heavy heart, I make a decision. I can't change the past, but I can try to be better. For my family. For myself.
Instead of trying to change her to be a little more like me, perhaps I need to change and see things from her perspective and imbibe a little more of her. There’s no doubt that by this point, I admire her. Is it so wrong to want to take a page or two out of the habits of a person I respect?
After I reflect, I realize she might be right in her anger. Knowing who she is, how she thinks, it is honorable that her pride won’t allow her to take money she hasn’t earned.
Maybe I need to make some amends. To show myself I can change, more than anything else.
I take a deep breath and step out of my room. The hallway suddenly feels too long and narrow, like the walls are closing in as I approach Pippa's door. My heart hammers in my chest, each heavy beat reminding me that this is uncharted territory.
I’ve never tried to make amends before.
"Get it together, Lev," I mutter to myself, trying to quell the nervous energy coursing through my veins. Clenching my fists by my sides, I stand in front of her door, hesitating for just a moment before raising my hand and knocking.
"Who is it?" Pippa's voice comes from behind the door, guarded but curious.
"It's me, Lev," I reply, struggling to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Can we talk?"
There's a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling within the room. The door cracks open, revealing Pippa's wary eyes peeking out at me. She studies me for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to let me in. Finally, she sighs and opens the door wider, stepping aside to allow me entry.
"Alright," she concedes, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks me up and down. "What do you want?"
"Look, I… I wanted to apologize," I begin, forcing the words out even though they feel foreign on my tongue. "For interfering in your financial matters. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."
Pippa raises an eyebrow in surprise, clearly not expecting the apology. Her skepticism is palpable, but there's also a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes as she regards me warily.
"Is this some kind of joke?" she asks, still not completely convinced of my sincerity. "Or are you just trying to manipulate me again?"
"No, it's not a joke, Pippa," I insist, my voice firm but gentle. "I know I've been… well, a bit of an asshole. But I'm trying to change."
She studies me for a moment longer, still unsure but willing to hear me out. "Alright," she says slowly. "I'm listening."
"Like I said, I shouldn't have interfered in your money situation," I continue, feeling a bit more at ease now that she's giving me a chance. "It wasn't my place, and I didn't handle it well. You're right; I can be entitled and irresponsible. But I want to prove to you that I can do better. After hearing what you had to say, I think it’s right that you live life on your own accord, without taking… handouts ." It stings as I say the last word, remembering the things she said to me.
Pippa's gaze softens slightly as she listens, her arms dropping to her sides as the tension between us begins to dissipate. She purses her lips, clearly mulling over my words and deciding how to respond.
"Okay…" she finally says, her tone cautious but not entirely dismissive.
"So I was thinking," I propose, my mind racing with ideas. "You've been cleaning houses to earn money, right? Well, why not clean mine instead?"
Pippa raises an eyebrow, her skepticism evident in the tilt of her head. “Your house?”
“Yup. Just mine. And later, if you feel you have more time on your hands with this place and your schoolwork, I could introduce you to some of my colleagues.”
Okay, that will never happen. For some reason, the thought of this woman I am enchanted with cleaning homes for other men just doesn’t sit well. But for now, to appease her, I say what I must.
“But cleaning your house won’t cut it for me.” She bites her lower lip. “My expenses, they—”
“I pay my cleaners $30/hour. I’ll reassign the current ones to my other properties. This whole place will be yours to clean. We have over 27 rooms, Pippa. I guarantee you’ll have more than enough work.”
"Is this another way for you to control me?" she asks, her eyes narrowing as she searches my face for any hint of deceit. "Because if it is, I'm not interested."
"Control you?" I feign offense, placing a hand on my heart dramatically. "Pippa, I'm honestly just trying to make amends here. Plus, it's a win-win situation—you get paid well, and I get a clean house without the worry of you trying to run away or being kidnapped by a rival. There's no hidden agenda, I promise."
She seems to consider my offer for a moment, her gaze flicking back and forth between my eyes as if trying to read my intentions. The air crackles with tension as we stand there, both waiting for her decision.
"Listen, Pippa," I say, trying to ease the tension with a lighthearted tone. "I know you think otherwise, but believe it or not, I do understand the value of hard work. And I want you to feel empowered and in control of your own life."
"Empowered, huh?" she raises an eyebrow, her chocolate brown eyes challenging me. "Coming from the guy who practically kidnapped me and made me his payment?"
"Ouch," I wince, rubbing my chest as if her words physically hurt me. "You really know how to hit where it hurts, don't you? But yes, I've made mistakes, and I'm trying to make things right. So, what do you say?”
She hesitates for a moment, still eyeing me skeptically, before extending her hand. "Fine, but remember—one wrong move, and I'll show you hell."
She says it so seriously, with a straight face and I need to muster all my restraint to not laugh at how adorable she looks. The idea of her making my life hell… Impossible.
"Understood," I reply with feigned seriousness, taking her hand in mine. The moment our palms touch, a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm, making my heart race like a wild stallion. Our eyes lock, and I see the same surprise mirrored in her gaze.
"Deal," she says softly, her voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.
"Deal," I echo, unable to tear my eyes away from hers. We stand there for a few seconds, our hands clasped together, the air thick with anticipation and something else… something I can't quite put my finger on. But whatever it is, I can't deny that it's exhilarating.
At this very moment, it's as if time has slowed to a crawl. Her eyes, those warm chocolate pools, seem to draw me in, daring me to make a move. I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, she feels the same magnetic pull that has ensnared me.
After all, she’s the first woman who has ever managed to get an apology out of me. There must be something here, beyond the basic fact that I find her fucking beautiful, to have made her hold a power over me enough to convince me to do the right thing. For once.
"Lev," she breathes out, her voice wavering ever so slightly. It's all the encouragement I need. In one swift motion, I pull away my hand and place it on her waist, pulling her close to me. Her lips part and I place my fingers on her chin, pulling her toward me.
“Pippa,” I moan, crashing my lips against her, my fingers digging into her soft waist. In this very instant, the world around me fades away, and I’m lost in her; the taste of her lips, the feel of her curves, the way her hair gently grazes my cheek. My entire body alights in a heated fire, and I feel the blood gushing to my cock, wanting her, needing her… it's overwhelming in the most delicious way possible.
I reach over and slide my hand under the hem of her shirt, just grazing her back a little, and then, to my surprise, she pulls back. For a second, I want to lean in again, but she gives me a small, wry smile. “It’s getting late,” she whispers.
That’s my cue to go. Disappointment seeps through my heart, but I nod and give her a small kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Pippa.”
“Good night, Lev.” She shows me to the door.