Chapter Thirty-One
Aleksei
The door slams against the wall with enough force to rattle my desk.
Sofia storms in, her designer heels stabbing the hardwood floor like daggers. The scent of her signature Chanel perfume hits me — cloying, suffocating.
“How dare you humiliate me like that?” Her voice reaches that shrill pitch that sets my teeth on edge. “In front of everyone!”
I don’t bother looking up from the contracts spread across my desk. “ Zatknis .” The Russian command to shut up slips out before I can stop it.
“Don’t you dare tell me to shut up!” Sofia’s manicured hands slam onto my desk, scattering papers. “You made me look like a fool in front of the entire Bratva!”
My patience, already wearing thin from lack of sleep and thoughts of Stella, snaps like a rubber band pulled too tight. I rise slowly from my chair, letting my height and size remind her exactly who’s territory she just wandered into without an invitation.
“You want an explanation, Sofia?” The quiet in my voice carries more threat than any shout. “Here it is — I won’t marry you. Not today. Not ever.”
Her perfectly painted lips tremble. “But the alliance—”
“Fuck the alliance.” The words feel like freedom. “Your father’s support isn’t worth a lifetime of this.”
Sofia’s face contorts, tears threatening to ruin her immaculate makeup. “Is there someone else? Did you find yourself a whore?”
The accusation ignites something dark inside me. I lean forward, palms flat on the desk, watching her instinctively step back. “Choose your next words very carefully.”
Sofia’s face crumples, mascara-stained tears tracking down her cheeks. “You humiliated me, Aleksei. In front of everyone!”
Ah.
Now we’re at the root of the matter.
I remain unmoved by her display. Tears are weapons women use to manipulate men weaker than me. “You’ll get over it, Sofia.”
“Never!” she sobs. “My reputation is in ruins. I am a laughing stock!”
“People forget. Next week, they’ll be laughing about something else.” I shrug.
“I can’t believe you’d say such a thing!” She shakes her head. “It’s not just me, you know. My father’s good name has been dragged through the mud. Not to mention the money he spent.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He can afford it.” Considering the old piece of shit made most of his fortune on human trafficking, I don’t feel any guilt.
“My dress alone cost $283,000! As for my hair and shoes—”
I snort out a laugh. “Who the fuck spends $283,000 on a wedding dress?”
She gasps. “Kim Kardashian spent $400,000 on hers and Salma Hayek’s cost $613,000!”
“Well, there’s your problem. You should be marrying Kanye West.”
“You’re not taking me seriously,” she wails.
“You’re right. I’m not. I warned you from the start that this was not something I wanted. It’s not like I didn’t make myself clear.” I lean back in my chair, studying her.
“Your sister said this was an agreement between our families. I should sue you for breach of contract!”
I tilt my head. “Ah. So that’s what this is about. Money. How much?”
“What are you talking about?” Her eyes narrow.
“How much to heal your ‘broken heart,’ Sofia?” There’s no mistaking the sarcasm in my voice.
“That’s not what this is about, Aleksei. I…” She trails off. I’m starting to speak her language.
“A million?” I ask, reaching for my checkbook.
“Two,” she finally says.
My lip twitches. There she is. This is the real Sofia — not the crying fiancée, but the mercenary beneath. I start to write.
“A year,” she adds. I glance up at her. “For the rest of my life.”
I put down my pen. “ Pizdets! You expect me to pay you two million a year indefinitely?”
She nods. “It’s the least you can do.”
I scoff. “The least I can do is give you nothing.”
“You owe me!” Her voice rises. “For all the pain and embarrassment. Two million is a small price to pay.”
I pick up my pen again. “So, you’re saying that you want me to pay you two million dollars until… you die?”
Her mouth opens then snaps shut again. “What are you trying to say?”
“Think about it, Sofia.” My eyes lock with hers. Her face has gone pale. The threat in my words doesn’t need to be spelled out.
And then it’s as if a switch flicks inside her.
I watch the change sweep across Sofia’s face like a storm front — her tears drying instantly, replaced by something far more dangerous. The pampered socialite vanishes, revealing the predator beneath.
“You think you can threaten me?” Her voice drops to a serpentine hiss. “My father will—”
“Your father will what?” I study her with mild curiosity. “Start a war with the Tarasov Bratva over his daughter’s bruised ego?”
“There are other ways to hurt you.” Her sharp nail traces patterns on my desk. “Ways that don’t require armies.”
I bark out a laugh. “You have nothing.”
“Not yet,” she spits. “But it won’t be long.”
“Careful, dorogaya .” I inject just enough threat into the endearment to make her step back. “You’re playing a very dangerous game.”
“So are you.” She straightens her designer jacket. “Rejecting me was your first mistake. Threatening me was your second. Don’t make a third by underestimating what I’m capable of.”
My hand itches to reach for the gun in my desk drawer. One bullet would solve this problem permanently. But Sofia isn’t stupid enough to come here without insurance.
“I’m going to forget you said that because you are clearly upset, suka. ” I force myself to remain seated.
“I will end you, Aleksei Tarasov,” she spits the words out. “You think I’m not serious?”
“This conversation is over.” I finally rise, keeping my temper in check through sheer willpower. I press the intercom button on my desk. “Boris, send up two men to escort Ms. Novikova to collect her belongings.”
Sofia’s face flushes an ugly shade of red. “You can’t just dismiss me like some common—”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” I check my watch. “You have twenty minutes to clear out your things before security removes them for you.”
“But I’ve my things all around the mansion! Valuable things!” She gestures wildly. “And my jewelry—”
“You should have been less careless.”
“Aleksei!”
“Nineteen minutes now.” I turn back to my paperwork. “Whatever’s left gets donated.”
“You… chertov mudak !” She snatches a crystal paperweight from my desk and hurls it at my head.
I catch it easily. “Eighteen minutes.”
Heavy footsteps approach — Boris with two of our security men. Sofia spins to face them, her face a picture of pure hate.
“Mr. Tarasov?” Boris’s voice carries a note of concern.
“Help Ms. Novikova pack her belongings.” I set the paperweight down with deliberate care. “She’s leaving.”
“You can’t treat me like this!” Sofia’s voice rises to that glass-shattering pitch again. “I am Sergei Novikov’s daughter!”
“You’re nothing to me now.” I finally meet her gaze. “Just a failed business transaction.”
She lunges at me, nails aimed at my face. Boris catches her mid-leap, lifting her easily despite her thrashing.
“Get your hands off me, you ape!” She kicks out wildly. “Do you know who I am?”
I watch Sofia’s tantrum with detached amusement. Her threats are as empty as her soul — just another spoiled princess who thinks Daddy’s money makes her untouchable.
“Seventeen minutes,” I remind her, enjoying how she bristles at being ignored. “Clock’s ticking.”
“You think this is funny?” She yanks free from Boris’s grip, smoothing her designer dress. “I know things, Aleksei. Things that could destroy everything you’ve built.”
I roll my eyes. “ Blyad , you sound like a bad movie villain.”
“Mock me all you want.” Her lips curl into a cold smile. “But remember this moment when it all comes crashing down.”
I lean back and stretch lazily, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Are you still here? Sixteen minutes now.”
“Your arrogance will be your downfall.” She straightens her spine, attempting dignity. “I promise you that.”
“Alright, enough. Get the fuck out.” I wave dismissively. “Boris, help Ms. Novikova find the exit before she embarrasses herself further.”
“This isn’t over,” she hisses as Boris guides her toward the door. Her breath is coming in sharp gasps. “You’ll regret this, Aleksei. I swear on my mother’s grave—”
“Fifteen minutes.” I cut her off mid-threat. “And your mother is still alive.”
The door slams hard enough to rattle the windows. I hear her shrill voice echoing down the hallway, ordering the security team around like servants. Poor Boris — he’ll earn his pay today dealing with the stupid suka .
I pour myself two fingers of vodka, savoring the quiet now that she’s gone for good. Let her plot and scheme. What can she possibly do? She has no real power, no true connections. Just another pretty face used by her father to secure alliances.
Sofia Novikova is nothing to me.
And there’s nothing she can do to touch me.