Chapter 10
SONYA
“You’re going to be okay.”
As I walk home, dodging people on the busy sidewalk, all I can hear on the other end of the line is quiet sobbing.
“I need you to go to the address I gave you, taking only what you need and can pack in ten minutes. It’s a shelter; they know you’re coming and they also know you’re my client. There will be a debit card and a burner phone waiting for you so you have some money and you can contact me.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“I know you can,” I tell the woman on the other end of the phone. “This is going to be the hardest thing you do in your life, but I know you can do it. I’m here to support you. Call my number whenever you need to. But you have to get out—now. You will be okay.”
I hear a choked sob then a sharp exhale as my client tries to pull herself together while facing terrible odds.
I’ve heard and seen it all many times before, but I have yet to detach myself from it.
I hope I never do—no matter how much it hurts to know what my clients have been through, what I feel for them is what drives me forward, what gives me my motivation.
“Okay.” It’s a single word, but it’s the one I’m waiting to hear.
“Tell me where he is right now.”
“At the bar.”
“Okay. Grab whatever you can and get out. Go to that address. As I said, they know you’re coming. Call me when you get there.”
The call disconnects and I take a deep breath, adjusting the bag of groceries biting into my arm and praying her husband doesn’t come home early.
I send the woman at the shelter a text to let her know my client is coming. I’ve already forwarded her the information to fast-track her intake.
It’s true I want to get back at Samson, but this is the real reason I’m taking money from Matvei.
Because if I can open my own law firm, one that doesn’t exist on charity, I can hire a full-time staff to protect my clients.
The Russian bear that is Evgeny comes to mind, and I wonder if I’ll be able to entice any of Matvei’s men into my service.
All above board, of course. I’m not taking charity from the Russian mob that will come back to bite me in the ass someday.
But I can’t think of anyone better to protect my clients.
I vet the people who volunteer with us as best I can, but I don’t have the kind of connections Matvei does.
I text my boss to let him know my client is on her way to the shelter, nearly dropping my groceries when a sharp crack splits the air, shattering the window next to where I’m standing.
My feet are in motion before my mind catches up.
Screams erupt all around—mine included—as people scramble to get out of the way.
Another shot rings out, and more glass shatters behind me.
Someone runs into me and I go flying, landing hard and skinning my knees, probably shredding my skirt along with my skin.
Apples and a bottle of salad dressing scatter across the pavement.
Get up! I scream at myself internally. Get up, get up, get up. My purse is on the ground, but I leave it as I struggle to get up, the grocery bag knocking painfully into my thigh. I spot a nearby trashcan and duck behind it for cover.
Another shot rings out and hits the brick above my head, sending debris flying.
Suddenly, arms wrap around my waist and pull me up. I scream, thrash, and claw, but I am no match for the man who’s grabbed me.
“Knock it off!” a voice snaps in my ear. “I’m trying to save you.”
The voice is familiar enough that I stop struggling for a moment. I glance back to find myself in Evgeny’s grasp.
The big man shields me and rushes me down the sidewalk to a waiting car.
Matvei is standing next to it, his expression so cold it could’ve been carved from ice.
I’m not sure what I’m more terrified of—the fact that someone is shooting or the implacable expression devoid of humanity on Matvei’s face.
Everyone has disappeared from the sidewalk, and the police sirens grow closer by the second. All three of us turn at the sound of running feet as someone dressed all in black darts out from the shadows of an alley, running full tilt in the opposite direction.
I watch in horror as Matvei raises his arm, aiming a gun with a silencer, and pulls the trigger. I hear a small sound before a spray of blood and brain matter explodes from the back of the man’s head. He drops to the cold concrete, dead instantly.
I can’t scream. I can’t move, I can’t even breathe. I can only stand there staring at the blood and gore on the sidewalk, at the way the back of the man’s skull was blown away by Matvei’s unerring aim and direct hit.
Matvei curls his hand around my arm, pulling me toward the car. “Get in,” he snarls as he shoves me inside. He gets in after me and slams the door shut.
Evgeny slides into the front seat, gunning the engine and speeding away so fast I fall against the door and bang my forehead.
The wheels squeal as he turns a wild corner, causing me to fall the other way, right against Matvei.
His arm automatically goes around me, holding me steady, as he talks in rapid Russian to Evgeny.
There’s too much going on, the dark streets passing by the window in a blur, and I can still hear the shots ringing through my head. But all I can think about is my phone.
“Wait! I need my phone! Where’s my phone?”
The Russian stops instantly. Matvei turns to me, an incredulous expression on his face. “Your phone?”
“My client has to be able to get a hold of me! I have to find my phone!” I say in a panic-stricken state, near tears.
His eyes are enormous, the pupils dilated so much they’re almost black. “You’re worrying about a client when someone is trying to kill you?”
“Kill me?” I choke.
“Don’t you get it? You were the target.” Matvei’s snarl is as savage as the look in his eyes.
Bile suddenly rises, and I grab for my bag of groceries, heaving up everything I’ve eaten all day until my throat is raw.
Evgeny mutters something in Russian from the front seat.
“He says he has your phone and your purse.” Though the words are clipped with frustration, Matvei is oddly gentle as he takes my handbag and purse from Evgeny before reaching around and buckling me in.
I’m grateful for the gesture, no longer pitching back and forth as the sedan flies down the street. The rest of the drive is silent.
Evgeny pulls through a gate that closes behind us and up to what looks like an exclusive apartment building in Lincoln Park. There’s a garage off to the side, and he slowly drives into it. I grip my bag and phone tightly, as though they’re the only things keeping me grounded.
All I can do is sit there as the garage door closes. Matvei and Evgeny get out of the car and begin speaking in Russian again. I look around to see we’re surrounded by several vehicles, each one costing more than I make in a year, possibly two.
The men are almost to the door before Matvei stops and turns, finally realizing I’m not following them. He says something to Evgeny and strides back to the car, opening the door and bending down to peer inside.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes are still dark, his expression forbidding and terrifying. Every time I look at him, all I can see and hear is him aiming and pulling the trigger on the gun that destroyed the guy’s head.
Instead of expressing that, all I can say is, “I can’t stop shaking.”
He remains silent for a minute as I shake so hard the soiled shopping bag rustles on the floor board. He reaches down and extends his hand, but he doesn’t touch me.
“It’s difficult seeing someone killed.”
My gaze flicks up to his face and all I can do is stare. You are the one who killed him! I watched you shoot him! I want to scream.
“It’s never easy,” he continues, “but he was trying to kill you. And I promised I would protect you. It’s in the contract.” His voice softens, and some of the darkness has fled from his eyes.
“The contract?” I question, my thoughts moving like molasses.
He leans closer. “I promised you wouldn’t be in danger when you were around me. I keep my promises.”
I can’t look away from his eyes, deep and blue. They pull me in and lock me there until I finally put my hand in his, surprised by its warmth after seeing his frozen detachment earlier, his inhuman indifference to what he’d just done.
But I knew this about him going in, didn’t I?
I knew, yet I still agreed to his plan. I still said yes of my own volition and drew up a contract. I knew exactly who he was and still allowed him into my hotel room to have wild sex.
I let Matvei pull me out of the car. He tells me to leave the bag, that someone else will take care of it. He guides me into the apartment complex with an arm around my waist, as though he’s afraid I’m going to collapse at any moment. I’m still so shaky, I just might.
“Well, you’ve seen me have a panic attack, and now you’ve seen me in shock and throwing up into a bag. Lucky you.”
Matvei only chuckles and leads me down a long hall until we reach a grand entryway and an even grander staircase.
Only then do I realize this is not an apartment building but a single home.
A single, enormous home. I stop and stare at the marble flooring, the dark, polished wood, the staircases on either side of the entry.
“Is this your house?” I ask, although once the words are out of my mouth, I realize house doesn’t do justice to the mansion I’m standing in.
“I think you already know the answer to that,” Matvei says. He leads me up the stairs to a full suite that has no right being called just a bedroom.
The room is the size of my entire apartment.
I’m too busy gawking to realize my tremors and shock have dissipated.
At least, until Matvei gently presses me down onto one of the couches by the fireplace and pushes a glass of something amber into my hand, swapping it out for my purse and phone, which he lays on a nearby table.
“Sip that.” It’s an order. A soft order, but an order nonetheless. I do as he says because I need something to settle my nerves, and this seems as good an answer as any right now.
“Thank you,” I murmur after sipping, the whiskey taking the edge off.
Matvei reclines in a plush, wing-back chair, his arms posed like he’s a king sitting on a throne. “Let me know if you need another.”
“No, I mean for today. Thank you for saving me. That was… terrifying.” I put down the glass and clasp my hands in my lap. “Why were you even there?”
“I got a tip. One of my men heard that something was going down. It made its way to Evgeny, who looked into it further.”
“There was talk about me? My—” I start shaking again, unable to process that someone was trying to kill me.
My job has always been dangerous, but no one has actually made an attempt on my life before.
“Do you know who it was?” I ask. “I have a few cases right now with dangerous ex-husbands and boyfriends.”
Matvei’s mouth forms a straight line. He shakes his head. “Evgeny got the man’s ID, so we have a lead. We will look into it for you.”
“Can’t the police—”
The implacable and inhuman look on Matvei’s face stops me cold and I snap my mouth shut.
“I already told you. I gave you my word that I would keep you safe, that you wouldn’t be in danger. And I always keep my word.”
I may not know Matvei very well, but I know there’s no sense in arguing with him. Instead, I wrap my arms around myself and rub, trying to warm up extremities that are suddenly frigid. He settles on the couch beside me and wraps his arms around me.
Part of me wants to pull away because I just saw him gun a man down. But the other half of me melts into his arms, into the warmth and safety his embrace offers, into the feel of him against me.
Everything feels better when I’m with him. I feel like I can finally breathe in a quiet and safe place. My mouth finds his, wanting the comfort and oblivion only he can give me.
Matvei leads me to his bed, laying me down and kissing his way down my body, dragging my ruined skirt and underwear off.
I gasp as his kisses trail over my inner thigh, seeking the wet warmth at the apex. I arch as his tongue enters my folds, flitting, flicking, lapping. One hand grasps the quilt until I can feel my nails digging into my palm, while the other reaches down to curl within his hair.
I lose myself in the pleasure Matvei is giving me, letting the waves wash over and erase the fear. The sounds of my moans and cries and Matvei’s rumbles of enjoyment block the gunfire still echoing in my head.
The waves crest higher and higher as Matvei’s tongue finds all the right places.
I cry out, twist, claw at the blanket, at his skin, as his thumb strokes my clit.
When I come, it’s as if I’m releasing everything.
I fall apart, shaking, crying out, grateful for the way my thoughts disappear momentarily so I can feel relief.
But the memories return soon enough. I reach for Matvei and he doesn’t hesitate. He bends me over the bed, my knees on the padded bench at the foot, and sinks in to the hilt.
We both cry out. I push back into him, taking in everything I feel at each and every stroke. Matvei wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me to him as close as he can. The other he uses to peel a bra cup from one of my breasts, squeezing and massaging until stars dance in front of my eyes.
I know I’m done for when his hand moves down between my legs and starts playing with me again, pinching, stroking, and circling until I can barely breathe from the onslaught to my senses.
I feel the wave coming again, my entire body clenching tightly. For a moment, I feel as if I’m floating, caught between soaring and falling, between the old and the new, between then and now.
A scream rips from my throat as my orgasm crests and slams into me. For a moment, I pretend everything is okay. That someone didn’t shoot at me today. That I wouldn’t have lost my life had Matvei and Evgeny not been there. I can pretend Matvei didn’t kill someone right in front of my eyes.
That I’m with a man who exhilarates me as much as he terrifies me.