CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWELVE YEARS AGO
CLAIRE
Ivan Sokolov joined Rosemary High School in the eleventh grade. Our homeroom teacher assigned me the task of showing him around the school. Although he was from Russia, his accent was mild, suggesting he had likely been in the U.S. since childhood. His father was a prominent businessman, so Ivan was always accompanied by his security team.
He stood about six feet tall, with striking medium-length blond hair and blue eyes. As I showed him around, girls seemed to swoon at every opportunity.
However, he appeared uninterested in them, his gaze fixed on me.
My focus was on my favorite class sewing and the courses I needed to secure a full college scholarship. Boys weren’t on my mind, though it was obvious they were thinking about me.
My sister, Hope, hated that. She’d always say I didn’t even have to try to get a boy’s attention. For some reason, they just tried harder when it came to me.
Ivan was the smoothest of them all. He’d flash a smile at the other girls, then casually throw an arm around my shoulder, grinning as he said, “Sorry, girls, I already have a girlfriend.”
We continued down the hallway. “Ivan, you could date one of them or all of them. But if you want to avoid any hassle, feel free to say I’m your girlfriend,” I suggested.
His blond brows lifted. “Does that mean you’ll actually be my girlfriend?”
I chuckled. “No. I’m not interested in a real relationship. But we’re cool.”
He smirked, cocky yet amused, and I took that as confirmation he understood.
We studied together and even went to junior prom together.
Pretending to be Ivan’s girlfriend was easy, effortless. The other boys backed off. But then, everything shifted.
Ivan appeared at my side, grinning. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I beamed. “Thank you.”
Then, without warning, his lips claimed mine in a kiss I’d never forget. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered, “I love you, Claire. I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”
My heart pounded. I liked him too more than I wanted to admit, but I’d always pushed him away, too focused on my future to let anything derail me. But this time, I didn’t. This time, I said yes.
For months, we explored each other in ways that left us breathless. Then, on prom night, we had sex for the first time. I was on birth control, so we agreed we wouldn’t use condoms. He promised I didn’t have to worry about other girls—he only wanted me. And I believed him.
I was thrilled to go to college far from my life in South Carolina. The University of California, Berkeley offered a refreshing change of scenery. Ivan was at Stanford, so we got to spend a lot of time together. Our relationship was so ideal that my friends were envious, often telling me how fortunate I was to have such an amazing guy.
Ivan started to change during our senior year of college. His father had made it clear after graduation, Ivan was expected to return to Russia and run the family business. He confessed that he’d known about this for a while, but had hoped he could find a way out. Now, it was obvious there was no escaping it.
He wasn’t the same man I had known since I was sixteen. The warmth in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by something darker, something angrier. He picked fights over nothing. His possessiveness turned suffocating. If a guy so much as looked at me too long, he’d start a fight. If my skirt was too short, he’d demand I change.
Then one night, he showed up at my dorm, drunk, reeking of alcohol, his eyes wild. He declared with a chilling intensity that we could never be apart. He sounded deranged, like a madman. His words sent a chill down my spine. Ivan pressed soft but insistent kisses on my neck.
“I love you, Claire,” he murmured with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
I smiled, trying to ignore the unease creeping into my chest. “I love you too.”
We tore each other’s clothes off and fell into bed, the heat between us momentarily washing away my worries. But then, as he hovered over me, his lips at my ear, he whispered, “You have to move to Russia with me. It’s just for three years. Then we can come back to the States.”
“Ivan, no,” I said gently. “My life is here, you know that. But I’ll be here when you return. I can visit.” I traced soothing circles on his back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, hoping to calm him.
His expression darkened. In an instant, his hands wrapped around my neck, fingers tightening.
“You think I’d leave you here so you could fuck some other guy?”
I gasped, my hands flying to his wrists, struggling to breathe.
He fucked me hard, his grip relentless, and as darkness edged my vision, my body teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. Finally, his hands loosened, releasing my throat.
His eyes widened in horror. “Claire, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I shoved at his chest, my breath ragged. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”
His blue eyes, once icy, softened like melting snow. “I’m your man,” he murmured, pulling me into his embrace with a grip that promised safety.
After that night, Russia ceased to be a topic of conversation.
We barely saw each other over the next two weeks. Then, out of nowhere, he showed up, took me to dinner, and we spent the weekend at his place. I dared to hope things were returning to the way they were.
Then the vicious cycle started again. Ivan barely texted. He didn’t call. Days passed in silence. What the fuck was going on with him?
I’d reached my breaking point. If we were done, it was time to end it. I couldn’t live in this limbo anymore.
I drove to his condo across from Stanford. Egor, one of his ever-present bodyguards, stood sentinel at the door.
I smirked, masking my turmoil. “Hello, Egor.”
“Claire?” he questioned, his bushy brows arching in surprise at my unannounced arrival.
Ivan and I had been showing up at each other’s places for years.
“Tell Ivan I’m here,” I commanded, my voice sharp.
Egor exhaled, hesitant. “Is he expecting you, Claire?”
From inside, laughter pierced the air. “Ivan, play nice,” a woman’s voice trilled, igniting a firestorm of rage within me.
I slammed my fist against the door, fury driving my actions. “Ivan, open the fucking door.”
The door flew open immediately—he wouldn’t want to draw unnecessary attention in his building.
His lifeless blue eyes met mine, void of the warmth I once knew. So this was how he was dealing with moving to Russia without me? By cheating?
“Ivan, do you want me to send her home?” Egor asked.
My jaw dropped.
“I’m his girlfriend,” I hollered, peeking inside.
I pointed at the woman. “Make that bitch leave.”
I couldn’t believe the bitch was fucking naked.
Tears pricked the back of my eyes. How could my life unravel like this?
I stormed inside. My eyes moved between Ivan and the dark-haired chick with porcelain fake boobs and the towel wrapped around his waist.
She didn’t bother covering up.
Behind me, the door clicked shut.
“Everyone says we’re the perfect couple.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Joke’s on me, huh? It’s clear we’re not together anymore. All you had to do was tell me it was over, Ivan.”
His hand shot out, gripping my jaw tightly as he yanked me toward him. “And that would’ve been enough for you?” he growled.
“You think you could just walk away from everything we’ve built over the years?” he roared, his voice an unrecognizable snarl.
Chills clawed up my spine. What happened to my boyfriend, the kind, loving one I knew? Had it all been a lie?
“I’m in love with you, Claire,” he declared, grinning with a madness that sent shivers through me. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”
His eyes closed momentarily. “I only want to be with you. My life has changed so much in the last year. I can no longer be the nice guy.”
His blue eyes darkened and his jaw twitched. The glimpse of the Ivan I knew was now gone forever. My heart sank to my feet.
He forced me down onto the seat at the black marble kitchen countertop.
A mirror sat in front of me, several neat lines of cocaine waiting.
“Snort a line,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“No,” I snapped, defiance lacing my words.
His hand pressed against the back of my head, forcing my face toward the mirror.
“Do it,” he growled. “I don’t want to hurt you, Claire, but I will if I have to.”
Memories of him choking me during sex flashed through my mind. Would he do it again?
I snorted the line, the drug hitting me like a freight train, leaving me hyper-aware, my eyes bulging with intensity.
Ivan took his own hit, then slid the mirror toward the woman who eagerly followed suit.
“We’re going to party with Masha,” he announced with a smirk.
“She’s a gift from my cousin in Russia.”
He yanked me to my feet, encircling my waist with an iron grip. “When we move to Russia, we can have her over for playtime or another woman,” he suggested, his words laced with dark promise.
I stiffened. “Ivan, I told you I’m not moving to Russia.”
He sighed, like I was being difficult. “I have to marry Polina Abelev,” he said, voice laced with irritation. “Our fathers made a deal to unite the Bratva families when I become the boss. I’ll split my time between two houses.” His lips trailed down my shoulder. “One with my wife… and one with my mistress.”
My stomach twisted.
How the hell had I gone from being his girlfriend to his mistress?
“You can’t make me move to Russia,” I snapped, my voice shaking.
Ivan’s expression grew sinister, but before he could respond, Masha let out a giggle as she twirled around the room, her long, dark hair whipping across her face. “He can. He just told you he’s in the Russian mafia. He can make you do whatever he wants.”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” My words were sharp, but the cocaine had me too messed up to feel the full weight of the situation.
Ivan grabbed my wrist and dragged me back to the mirror. “Do another line.”
“No,” I shouted, my defiance cutting through the fog in my brain.
His hand disappeared into a drawer, and when it emerged, he was holding a Glock. My breath hitched.
Ivan pressed the cold barrel against my temple. “Snort the fucking line,” he roared.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. I wasn’t ready to die. Trembling, I did as I was told. The second hit sent me spiraling. My body felt weightless, my thoughts sluggish. I could barely keep my eyes open as I stumbled toward the door, desperate to escape.
Without warning, Ivan swept me off my feet, carrying me like a broken puppet into the bedroom.
He set me on the bed and stripped me bare. I was too dazed to fight back, too numb to react as I watched Masha yank off his towel, sink to her knees, and suck his dick. My stomach twisted as he fisted her hair, dragging her up before bending her over the side of the bed. He fucked her hard and raw. No fucking barrier between them.
I retreated to the corner of the room. Because this couldn’t be my life. How did I not see that my boyfriend was a fucking monster?
I didn’t even feel when Ivan pulled me to my feet by my hair. “Time for you to ride me.”
“No. You just had sex with her without protection. I’m not fucking you.”
“You will,” he said before sinking his teeth into my shoulder, unleashing a searing pain.
“Ouch,” I yelled.
My eyes widened again.
“Where are the condoms? You have to have some here. Get a condom. And I will ride you.” My voice trembled.
What else could I say? No one was coming to my rescue. I’d fuck him and leave.
Ivan pulled me into his arms, pinning my trembling thighs against his chiseled torso as he plunged into me. Even in my drug-addled haze, every thrust triggered waves of nausea and revulsion. He emptied himself inside me, then callously dropped me onto the cold floor when his hunger was momentarily sated. Slipping away to chase his next high with Masha, Ivan left the room in a haze of depravity.
I crawled, shattered and numb, into the bed and pulled the sheet tightly around my broken form. As tears streamed relentlessly down my face, I fixed my gaze on the barren wall, each silent sob a testament to the life I no longer recognized, until eventually, exhaustion claimed me in the depths of a tortured sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, I got dressed and mentally pulled myself together. There was no time for emotions, no space for weakness. I stepped into the living room. Masha and Ivan were asleep on the sofa, lying naked at opposite ends.
Hold it together, Claire. There’s no time for tears.
“Hey, Ivan.” I gently brushed his hair aside and kissed him.
“I have a class. Call me later.”
His eyes slowly opened, and he gave a faint smile. “Okay.”
I stood up, still holding that smile.
“I love you, Claire.”
My skin crawled. I wanted to slam my fist into his face.
“I love you, too, Ivan,” I replied. The words felt like poison on my tongue.
Egor didn’t stop me as I left. Once in the parking lot, the urge to sprint to my car was overwhelming, but I restrained myself, desperate not to draw suspicion.
I glanced up at the gray sky, hoping for a break in the clouds, for a glimpse of the sun. For anything that would tell me I wasn’t trapped in this nightmare.
How would I escape Ivan? I had to formulate a plan.
A man I didn’t recognize walked toward me with purpose.
My heart pounded. Oh, shit. Who the hell was he? Was he one of Ivan’s new bodyguards?
“Claire, come with me,” he said. His tone was firm, absolute. “Polina wants to see you.”
I stiffened. “No. Tell her I just found out about her. I don’t want anything to do with Ivan. She can have him.”
A sudden blow to the back of my head plunged me into darkness.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself bound to a chair in the center of a well-lit warehouse. My wrists and ankles burning from the tight ropes.
“Claire, how nice of you to join me,” she growled with a thick Russian accent.
Her fist crashed against my face repeatedly.
She stepped back, her chest heaving in a tight black t-shirt. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and fury burned in her icy blue eyes.
Pain throbbed through my swelling right eye.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?” I spat blood onto the cold, hard concrete.
“I don’t want Ivan,” I snarled.
“You’re a lying bitch.” She unleashed her fury, her fists raining down on me.
Some time later, two men dragged Masha into the building, completely naked.
Damn, she hadn’t put clothes on since I saw her this morning. Did they snatch her out of Ivan’s condo?
“You two enjoyed yourselves with my fiancé last night,” Polina taunted.
I watched in horror as the bodyguards strung Masha up in the center of the warehouse like a piece of meat.
My chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. What the fuck was happening?
Polina glared at Masha. “You fucked my fiancé good, huh?”
Masha began pleading in Russian, her voice high-pitched, frantic.
Polina calmly reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out a blade. She twirled it between her fingers. “He told you I was okay with you fucking him?”
My pulse pounded. Oh, shit. She should’ve kept her damn mouth shut.
Polina’s expression turned ice-cold. “I don’t approve of any woman fucking my man,” she said, voice razor-sharp.
Then she raised the knife high over her head.
“Polina, no. Stop,” Ivan’s voice thundered from behind us.
Polina spat something in Russian, then jammed the knife into Masha’s chest.
Ivan lunged, grabbing Polina and yanking her back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he roared, his face twisted in fury.
The relentless ringing in my ears was deafening, and my entire body convulsed with a violent intensity. It felt like I was next on death’s list. My heart sank with the realization that I’d never see my dad, sister, and brother again. They’d remain in the dark about my fate forever.
Masha’s head lolled between her shoulders, a grotesque fountain of blood trickling down her lifeless body.
Ivan’s voice cut through the chaos. “This is an arranged marriage, Polina,” he reminded her, his tone tight with frustration.
Polina turned to him, eyes blazing. “So what? You think I’m just supposed to sit back and let you play with your little toys?”
“Claire was never a toy,” Ivan snapped. “She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been together since high school.”
Polina’s expression twisted into something dark and dangerous. Without hesitation, she pulled a Glock from her waist holster and pointed it at me.
My heart thundered in my chest, each beat a drum of impending doom.
My right eye involuntarily closed, impairing my vision at the worst possible moment. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t have to witness the shot that would end me.
“Oh, so she’s still your girlfriend?” Polina screamed, her voice echoing off the warehouse walls.
Ivan was going to get me killed.
“She didn’t even know about you until last night,” he admitted, his voice strained.
At least he told the truth.
Polina’s grip tightened. Her lips curled into a snarl. “I don’t believe you,” she spat.
Then she pulled the trigger.
A deafening bang cracked through the air.
Pain exploded through me, white-hot and searing. A scream tore from my throat.
My good eye fluttered open just in time to see Ivan seize the gun, yanking it upward over Polina’s head. His wild, frantic gaze found mine.
“Get her out of here,” he roared.
Polina barked orders, desperate to assert control, but it was clear who held the most power in the Bratva.
The pain, the blood soaking my clothes, the icy numbness creeping over my skin. It was all too much. My body convulsed. The edges of my vision blurred.
And then nothing.
When I came to, I was lying in my dorm room bed, the familiar scent of lavender laundry detergent mixed with something sterile, something wrong. A dull, relentless pain throbbed in my arm. Every movement sent a fresh wave of agony through me. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself into a sitting position, my fingers ghosting over the thick bandage wrapped around my arm.
On my nightstand, two pain pills and a glass of water waited. I ignored them. The pain was grounding, a cruel reminder that everything had really happened. My face ached, swollen and tender, and I could only see out of one eye.
But I couldn’t stay here. Not after the last twenty-four hours. I refused to sit around, waiting for Polina or Ivan to find me.
Summoning every last shred of strength, I packed what I could into two plastic storage totes my most valuable sketches, my laptop, anything I couldn’t bear to lose. Then I ordered an Uber. The moment it arrived, I enlisted the dorm attendant to help carry the totes to the car. I yanked a baseball cap low over my forehead, slipped on a pair of oversized sunglasses, and prayed no one would recognize me.
At a nearby shipping store, I had the driver haul the totes inside.
I was shipping the totes to my friend Gia in Milan. She attended college with me, but recently had to fly home for an emergency. I hated to bother her with my mess, but I had no one else I could turn to.
The bright fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. As the shipping agent typed in the shipping address, I fumbled for my phone with shaky hands and dialed Gia’s number.
She answered on the second ring. “Claire, you don’t have to check in every other day. My grandfather’s fine—”
“Gia,” I cut her off, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m shipping you some things. Keep them safe for a few weeks, please.”
Her tone shifted instantly. “Claire, what happened?” Concern bled through the line, laced with anger.
I swallowed hard. “I can’t talk about it right now. But I’m in trouble.”
I paid in cash, thanked the shipping clerk, and turned toward the door.
“I have to start over,” I whispered.
Gia’s voice softened. “Get to Miami. When you get there, call me. My family’s jet will take you anywhere you want to go.”
Tears burned my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. My breath hitched as a sob broke free. “Thank you,” I choked out.
“Whoever hurt you will answer to the Agrestas,” she said darkly.
I stiffened. Great. Now I’d dragged the Italian mafia into my mess. If I could just start over with a new identity, that would be enough.
So I walked away.
I changed my name. Finished my last year of college at NYU, keeping my head down, my past buried.
Every night, I cried myself to sleep, the weight of everything I’d lost pressing down on me like a vice. I lied to my father, telling him I’d accepted an internship right after graduation. He had wanted to see me walk across the stage at Berkeley. He’d been so proud of me. I couldn’t tell him that the boy he had welcomed into our home was a monster, a Bratva prince who had nearly destroyed me.
And to top it all off, Ivan had given me chlamydia.
I never wanted to have unprotected sex again. Hell, I never wanted to fall in love again. Especially not with some rich asshole who thought his money could buy me.
My fingers tightened around the drawer handle in my office.
“Claire, Claire, Claire?” I glanced up at Amadeo, pushing the horrific memory aside.
“Sorry, yes?”
His sharp gaze studied me. “Are you okay?”
I plastered on a fake smile. “Yes.”
“You’re not. And that’s okay,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I don’t like Polina. I won’t let that woman step foot in this building again.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I struggled to swallow it down. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. “Please… don’t tell my benefactor about Polina. I don’t want them backing out of the arrangement.”
Amadeo’s expression darkened. “Claire, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” His voice dipped lower, deadlier. “If you need her handled, just blink twice, and it will be done.”
A single tear slipped down my cheek.
“Oh no.” I waved my hands franticly.
“I’ll be all right,” I whispered, lying again.
His jaw clenched, and I could see the restraint in him, the barely contained rage simmering just beneath the surface. Amadeo wanted blood on my behalf.
“Thanks for looking out for me,” I murmured. “I don’t have many people in my corner…” My voice cracked, but I forced down the wave of emotion.
“Can you order lunch? For you, Renato, and me?”
I knew Angelo probably sent lunch for me. But I wanted the guys to order whatever they wanted to eat.
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. Then, before leaving, he met my gaze and added, “Just so you know, Claire, Renato and I will always protect you. And we have no problem taking people out.”
Then he turned and walked out of the building, just like that.
I sat frozen, my mouth slightly open, a strange warmth washing over me. Protection. Loyalty. Things I had lost faith in. Yet, no matter how much I wanted to believe I was safe, the fear never left me.
He and his men wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter my private security without a second thought. They’d do it with the same cruel efficiency as they had before.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling shakily. Maybe it was a blessing that I hadn’t heard from Vino. Maybe he had finally given up on me. Good. I couldn’t risk his life.
Every night, I woke drenched in sweat, haunted by the nice Uber driver who died simply because he took me to the bus station. He hadn’t even known where I was going. But Ivan had killed him, anyway.
And the clerk at the shipping store.
More innocent blood spilled because of me.
Secrets I carried alone.
Gia was untouchable, thank God. I still hadn’t told her what Ivan did to me. I couldn’t let her go to war for me.
But now, as I sat in my office, heart hammering in my chest, a terrible thought took root.
Would I have to let go of my business?
Would I have to walk away from my life again?