Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
NIKOLAI
Families swarm the theater lobby, buzzing with excitement, ready to watch their loved ones take the stage for the last time as students.
Vadim and I blend in surprisingly well, camouflaged among the proud parents. We’ve swapped our Brioni suits and Patek Philippe watches for merino wool sweaters and brown loafers—shoes I plan to burn at the first possible opportunity.
Our tattoos are covered with makeup, and I’m wearing black wire-rimmed glasses to round out the history teacher look. Long ago, I ditched the eyebrow ring and the shaved head I sported right after prison. To be taken seriously, I had to look the part of pakhan.
Vadim has an enormous bouquet of white roses in his arms, like some doting father ready to surprise his kid after the performance.
“I feel like a fucking chump,” I mutter under my breath. “How did you talk me into dressing like a?—”
“Normal person?” Vadim interrupts. “I should take a picture to commemorate this moment. You look civilized for once.”
“I could say the same to you.”
With his tattooed knuckles concealed and his unruly dark curls slicked back, Vadim looks less like a man who could kill with his bare hands and more like someone ready for an afternoon on the golf course, which is exactly the point.
“Take a look at this,” he says, sliding a program into my hands as we linger off to the side, watching the crowd.
I take the program and flip through it until I find her name. Sofiya Ivanova. She’s scheduled to dance the final performance of the evening—a solo that she choreographed.
A Hades and Persephone retelling.
I bite back a laugh. If I remember my Greek myths right, Hades, the god of the Underworld, sees Persephone picking flowers one day, and he’s so captivated by her beauty that he takes her by force to the underworld and eventually forces her to marry him.
Well, shit. The irony is almost too much.
Vadim grabs a champagne flute from a passing waiter. “Looks like there are a few undercover guys. That one by the exit—” he angles his head in the man’s direction, “—and another by the staircase.”
I glance over, following his line of sight. Their suits may help them blend in, but the way they stand—feet slightly apart, hands clasped in front, scanning the room—gives them away. It’s a stance I’ve seen countless times in my own men.
Considering this is a public event, I’m not surprised. Still, I’m a patient man, and if I’ve learned one thing over the years, it’s to bide my time and wait for the right moment to strike.
A dramatic kidnapping would alert Roman and his men. We want to get her out of Moscow as quietly as possible. No one will realize she’s gone until it’s too late.
The auditorium lights flicker, signaling that the show will start soon. I join the crowd, filing into their seats, while Vadim disappears backstage to scope things out. Even though he’s striking, he’s very adept at blending in when he needs to be.
I take a seat among the smiling faces of families gathered to watch their friends and relatives take the stage. Sofiya is graduating from Moscow’s elite performing arts school, but she has no one here to celebrate her. Her parents sold her to my brother to cover their debts. The realization settles over me—I’m her husband, her family now, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
The lights dim, and the show begins, one performance blurring into the next. I barely register what’s happening onstage. Every nerve in my body is primed, waiting for Sofiya. I want to watch her move, to see the way her body commands the stage.
After what feels like fucking forever, it’s finally time for her solo. The music shifts to something dark and ominous, and Sofiya steps onto the stage. The pictures I’ve seen didn’t come close to doing her justice. Her pale skin glows under the lights, her auburn hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Her costume clings to her skin, revealing full breasts and solid muscle built over the years.
Sofiya begins to dance, and she’s mesmerizing, gliding across the stage with effortless grace. The flowing fabric of her costume swirls around her as she spins, her silhouette softening, then snapping into sharp, controlled movements. She exudes confidence now—a far cry from the scared little girl I found in that chapel.
I don’t know if Persephone fought Hades when he dragged her from the field, but I have no doubt Sofiya will put up more of a fight when I drag her back to my city. Not that it will stop me.
When her performance ends, the audience erupts in applause, rising to their feet. She’s breathing hard, but her eyes shine as a smile spreads across her lips. I’ve never seen a woman look as exquisite.
The rest of the students join her, and they all take their final bows, soaking in the crowd’s energy.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, revealing a text from Vadim instructing me to meet him in the car out front. I let out a quiet breath, my attention still on Sofiya as she basks in the moment. With one last look her way, I turn and head for the exit.
I’ll be seeing her again soon. And when I do, I won’t just be watching. I’ll be taking her with me.
Entering the car, I pull the door shut, the cool leather pressing against my back as I settle in. Vadim glances over, a smug smile tugging at his mouth.
“I’m guessing everything went well?” I note.
He cracks his neck. “Almost too well, if I’m being honest. Was looking forward to a little more challenge.”
I raise a brow, turning to face him.
“I overheard Sofiya and her friends talking. They’re planning to hit up a club in the city called Soundsystem tonight.” His smirk widens. “Without her bodyguard.”
My fists clench. A packed, loud nightclub with no bodyguard is the perfect setup for someone to take her. Someone like me. I should be grateful she’s making this so damn easy, but what the hell is she thinking, being so careless with her safety? It makes me want to bend her over my knee and teach her a lesson.
“Soundsystem,” I mutter, running a hand through my overly gelled hair. “One of the Syndicate’s clubs?”
“Nope. Owned by a couple of tech billionaires with no bratva ties.”
I nod, clearing my throat. “Looks like it’s our lucky day.”
“And just in time. I overheard one of her friends talking about Sofiya’s plans to move to Berlin after graduation.”
My eyebrows lift. “What for?”
Vadim guides the car into Moscow traffic. “Who the hell knows? Probably for a job.”
I take off the fake glasses and rub my temples, the wool sweater suddenly itchy against my skin. Whatever plans Sofiya had don’t matter anymore. Everything’s about to change. Someone with a heart might feel bad about that, but I’m not that guy.
Leaning back in the seat, a grin tugs at my lips. “Tonight should be interesting.”