19. Sasha
19
SASHA
I’m practically floating as I make my way back to my desk, a heady mix of confusion, relief, and leftover adrenaline buzzing in my veins. I’m still outraged at Damien for causing such a scene, but somehow, I’m also light-headed from the memory of his mouth on mine, his hands all over me, the hungry way he looked at me.
God, I’m a mess.
My cheeks are still hot, my hair probably a disaster from being shoved against those dusty shelves, but I can’t bring myself to care. I slide into my chair with a small, secretive smile tugging at my lips, ignoring the curious looks from my coworkers. Let them whisper.
Just as I’m about to pretend to re-immerse myself in Excel, a familiar, high-pitched voice cuts through the air.
“Sasha.”
I look up to see Brittany, arms folded across her chest, her manicured nails tapping in annoyance.
Here we go.
She glances around, making sure we’re somewhat alone, then leans in with a theatrical whisper. “What the hell was that?”
I blink, forcing a calm expression. “Excuse me?”
She lowers her voice, but it’s still shrill enough to attract a few stares. “Don’t play dumb. Everyone saw Damien Zaitsev—our very intense, very unattainable CEO—dragging you off like you were…what, his new favorite toy?”
Heat flares in my cheeks. “It’s complicated,” I manage.
She narrows her eyes, undeterred. “I’ll bet. Also, I saw you at that charity ball.” Her voice goes an octave higher, dripping with forced surprise. “You left with him, didn’t you?”
My blood runs cold. She saw us at the ball? My mind snaps back to the swirling dance floor, Damien’s firm grip on my waist, the faint glow of camera flashes.
My heart pounds in my chest.
“Brittany…” I attempt to stall, flustered. “I—It’s not what you think.”
She snorts. “Oh sure, that old line. So what do I think, exactly? That you’re fucking the boss and hoping no one notices?”
My stomach churns, and my hand tightens around the mouse in a death grip. “It’s not like that,” I whisper, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.
Brittany tilts her head, eyes gleaming. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Brittany, please,” I say, looking around.
This is a nightmare.
“You know, I really didn’t think you’d actually reel him in. When I gave you that text dare weeks ago, I was just messing around.”
I freeze. “What?”
The second the words leave her mouth, Brittany’s expression falters, like she realizes she’s said too much.
“You…wait. What do you mean?”
Her face hardens. “That wasn’t a random number. I knew exactly who it belonged to. I told you I had connections. I never expected that…” She laughs without mirth. “But of course, guys just fall madly in love with you, don’t they? Like Ryan.”
I blink. “Ryan? What does he?—”
She lifts her chin, eyes glittering with anger. “You know he was into you, right? And I was jealous. It pissed me off how he’d always hover around your desk, offering to help you, flirting with you.”
I gape at her. “You…did all this because you were jealous of Ryan?”
She doesn’t say anything at first, but then she cracks. “I thought you’d just send something weird, get in trouble. I didn’t think you’d, you know, actually hook up with him.”
My head spins, fury and betrayal crashing over me in waves. “You—you did that on purpose? I trusted you when you said you didn’t know whose number that was!”
“I wanted you gone, or at least humiliated. So I fed you that number. You took the bait.”
My blood feels like it’s boiling. “I—do you realize how insane that is?”
Brittany presses her lips together, looking away. “I never expected it to go anywhere. But then I saw you two at the ball, and now he’s stomping in here like he owns you?—”
I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingertips to my temple.
“That’s messed up,” I say quietly, voice trembling with fury. “You nearly ruined my life, Brittany. Do you get that?”
She exhales, fiddling with her nails, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, I’m sorry it got…out of control. But it’s not like you’re a victim. You had a choice. And you certainly made it.”
I can barely believe her nerve. “You’re unbelievable. You knew it was Damien. You hoped it would blow up in my face.”
She shrugs again, defensive. “I didn’t want you messing with Ryan. And I just…acted out, okay? I thought you’d send the dirty message, he’d be creeped out, you’d get humiliated, end of story.”
I shake my head, hardly able to look at her. “Just—stay away from me.”
She flinches, but her mouth hardens. “Fine.”
Then she spins on her heel and marches off, hair flipping behind her in a gold arc. I slump into my chair, pressing my shaking fingers to my forehead.
It’s well past eight by the time I leave the office, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. I stayed late to finish some pending work. Damien offered to drive me home, but I ignored his text. The last thing I need is for him to baby me.
Brittany’s words keep replaying in my head, looping over and over until I can’t tell if I’m more furious or hurt. I was jealous…I knew it was his number…I thought it’d just blow up in your face.
It’s not just about Brittany—though God knows, I’d love to strangle her—but about everything.
Damien, the texts, the sex, the way he looks at me like I belong to him.
What even is this anymore?
I can’t think straight.
I take the subway like always, but even the familiar clatter of the train doesn’t ground me. I sit there staring at the graffiti-stained walls whipping past, wondering how my life spiraled to here.
When the train jerks to a stop, I shuffle out with the crowd, my steps automatic. I don’t realize how dark it’s gotten until I’m already outside, pulling my coat tighter around me.
My neighborhood’s not bad, just…not great either. Too quiet this time of night. The main street’s still lit, but the shortcut I usually take—two blocks behind the corner store—is practically dead.
Still, I walk it. Because it’s habit. Because I’m too lost in my own head to think twice.
Brittany’s voice won’t stop echoing. I’m too deep in my thoughts to notice the car at first.
Black, nondescript, engine running low.
The air smells like cold metal and trash.
I glance up.
Two men step out from the alley. No hoods, no masks—just blank faces, dark clothes.
One glances at the other, then back at me.
“Hey,” he calls, voice too casual. “You lost?”
Every instinct screams run . My heart drops to my stomach. I don’t answer. I pick up my pace, shoving my hands deeper into my coat.
Wrong move.
I hear them behind me, fast. A hand clamps around my arm, yanking me back so hard I stumble.
“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t make this harder.”
The other guy grabs my other arm, and suddenly they’re pulling—toward the black car idling half a block down. The door’s already open.
Panic explodes in my chest. “Let go of me!” I scream, twisting, kicking—anything.
No one hears. There’s no one around.
“He should’ve known better than to leave you walking around like this.”
The words barely register through the panic, but something about the word “he” makes my stomach twist. What does that mean? Who’s “he”?
I kick harder, nails clawing at the hand over my mouth. They haul me closer to the car, one guy yanking the door open.
“She’s coming with us,” the other hisses. “Let’s see how Zaitsev likes getting a little message.”
My blood runs cold. Zaitsev. Damien.
That’s when it hits me—I’m not some random target. This is about him.
They start shoving me inside. I scrape my foot against the doorframe, fighting for balance, but the grip on me tightens.
And then—like something out of a goddamn movie—I hear his voice.
“Let. Her. Go.”
It’s low. Deadly. And familiar enough that my knees almost buckle.
The grip on me falters. One guy turns—too slow.
Damien is on him like a predator, slamming him into the car so hard the door caves. The other guy curses, tries to run—only to get caught by Damien’s fist.
I stagger back, heart racing, as Damien towers over them, breathing hard.
“Touch her again,” he growls, “and I’ll fucking kill you.”
I stand there, frozen. I stumble backward, nearly falling, gasping for air as both men scramble away.
Damien doesn’t chase. He just stands there, breathing hard, watching as the car peels out with a screech, leaving tire marks on the pavement.
For a second, all I hear is my own ragged breathing.
Damien turns to me, chest heaving. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, throat too tight to speak.
He’s here. He came for me.
And God help me, I’ve never felt safer—or more terrified—than I do right now.
“What the hell…Damien? What—what are you doing here?”
His jaw tics, but he doesn’t answer. Just stares at me like I’m the only thing holding him tethered right now.
“Are you following me?” My voice cracks. I’m shaking so badly I can barely speak.
His gaze softens—but only for a second. “You’re not safe here.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“You have to come with me.”
“Excuse me?” I blink at him, still dazed. “I—what? Damien, you can’t just?—”
“I’m not asking,” he cuts in, voice quiet but firm. “Get in the car, Sasha.”
I stare at him, my whole body trembling, mind spinning from the attack, his appearance, and the way his voice leaves no room for argument.
The car door slams shut harder than necessary as I slide inside, still shaking. My throat feels raw, like I’ve been screaming even though I barely made a sound. Damien slips in beside me, his jaw clenched tight.
The car pulls away from the curb fast—too fast—and for a long stretch, neither of us speaks.
My mind won’t stop replaying it. The way the guy said Damien’s name. The way they knew who I was to him.
I swallow hard, voice hoarse. “They…they mentioned you.”
Damien’s head turns sharply. “What?”
I glance at him, hating how small my voice sounds. “One of them said…‘Let’s see how Zaitsev likes getting a message.’” I grip my knees, knuckles going white. “This wasn’t random, was it?”
His jaw flexes. He says nothing, just turns the car around.
“Wait,” I say, frowning. “This…this isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“Change of plans.” His voice is low, flat.
“What?” I turn fully, heart thudding. “Where are you taking me?”
He exhales through his nose but keeps his eyes on the road. “I’m not taking you back there, Sasha.”
My throat dries. “Then…where?”
A beat.
“To my house.”
I blink, the words hitting harder than they should. “Your house?”
He nods once, jaw still tight. “You’re not safe. Not out there. Not anymore.”
I sit back, stunned into silence. His house. The words circle in my brain as the city lights fade behind us.