Chapter 10Mikhail
10
Mikhail
I pace the length of my office, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. Sergei stands at attention, his face a mask of stoic professionalism as he delivers his report. I ball my hands into fists. “Are you certain?” I ask, controlled despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.
He nods. “Yes, boss. Our sources confirm it. Valdés believes we were behind Mendoza’s death despite our precautions.”
I turn to face the windows, counting to ten to maintain composure. The city glitters below, oblivious to the storm brewing in the underworld. “And he’s made his move?”
“He has.” Sergei’s voice carries a hint of concern. “He’s become bolder. We’ve received surveillance photos of Phoebe.”
My blood turns to ice. I spin around, fixing Sergei with a piercing stare. “Show me.”
He hesitates for a moment before pulling out an envelope from his jacket. I snatch it from his hand, tearing it open. The photos spill out onto my desk, and my heart constricts.
Phoebe, walking Masha down the street. Phoebe, laughing with a coworker outside the coffee shop. Phoebe, stepping out of her apartment building, unaware of the danger surrounding her.
“When were these taken?” I demand.
“Over the past week. The message is clear, boss. Valdés is targeting her to get to you.”
I slam my fist on the desk, the sharp crack echoing through the room. Sergei doesn’t flinch at my rare outburst of temper. “Unacceptable. We need to neutralize this threat immediately.”
Sergei shifts his weight, a sign of discomfort from my usually unflappable lieutenant. “It’s not that simple, boss. Valdés has gone to ground. We can’t locate him or his inner circle.”
I close my eyelids, taking a deep breath to center myself. When I open them again, my mind is clear and focused on the task at hand. “Very well. Increase surveillance on all of Valdés’ known associates. I want our people in every corner of this city.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And Phoebe...” I pause, the words catching in my throat. “Double her security detail. Discreetly. She can’t know she’s being watched.”
Sergei raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s wise? Perhaps it’s time to tell her the truth about who you are, and in what she’s involved.”
I shake my head firmly. “No. Not yet. I need time to figure out how to protect her without losing her.”
“As you wish,” he says, his tone neutral. “Is there anything else?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “No. That’ll be all for now. Keep me updated on any developments.”
He nods and exits the office, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the damning photos spread across my desk.
Hours pass while I pour over reports, make calls, and formulate plans. The sun dips below the horizon before fading to inky darkness. My eyes burn from staring at screens and documents, but I push through the fatigue.
I’ve built an empire on calculated risks and strategic moves. I’ve outsmarted rivals and outmaneuvered law enforcement, but now, faced with a threat to the one person who’s brought light into my shadowy world, I’m at a loss.
The obvious solution is to bring Phoebe into my world fully, to surround her with guards and fortify her against Valdés’ attacks, but the thought of watching the warmth fade from her eyes as she learns the truth about me and the blood on my hands is unbearable.
I pace the office again. There has to be another way, a solution that keeps Phoebe safe without tainting her with the darkness of my world.
As the first rays of dawn break over the horizon, it hits me. I have to send Phoebe away. I can go with her while my trusted captains handle this situation. It will give us time to solidify our bond and ensure she’s fully in love with me before I have to reveal the truth.
I reach for my phone, fingers hovering over Phoebe’s number. Not yet. First, I need to make arrangements and create a cover story that she’ll believe. Something that will take her far away from Miami and far from Valdés’ reach.
The next afternoon, I stand outside Phoebe’s apartment door, hand poised to knock. The envelope in my other hand feels heavy, weighted with the lies I’m about to tell. I brace myself and rap my knuckles against the wood.
“Coming.” Phoebe’s muffled voice calls from inside.
The door swings open, and there she is. She’s wearing a pair of worn jeans and a faded T-shirt with a cartoon highland cow on it. My heart constricts at the sight of her.
“Mikhail?” She beams. “I wasn’t expecting you. Come in.” She looks behind me. “Where’s Masha?”
“Napping. I hope I’m still welcome even without her?”
She pouts and feigns that she’s considering it. “I suppose, but I prefer Masha come with you.” She winks and opens the door wider.
I step inside, feeling instantly peaceful in her small, cozy apartment just like every time I’ve been inside. It’s cluttered but homey, with Scottish memorabilia scattered throughout. The scent of cinnamon and apples hangs in the air. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” I say, glancing at the kitchen, where I can see a mixing bowl and ingredients spread out on the counter.
Phoebe waves her hand dismissively. “Just experimenting with a new recipe. Nothing that can’t wait.” She looks at the envelope in my hand curiously. “What’s that?”
I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. “I have a surprise for you.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”
I hold out the envelope. “Open it and see.”
Phoebe takes it, brushing her fingers against mine. She tears it open, pulling out the contents. Her lips part in a gasp as she reads the plane tickets and itinerary. She looks up at me in disbelief. “Is this...are we going to Scotland?”
“First-class all the way.” I force a smile. “I’ve planned everything. Historic castle tours, advanced cooking classes with renowned Scottish chefs, and even a whisky tasting at a famous distillery.”
Her eyes fill with tears as she launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. I catch her, holding her close and breathing in her scent.
“I can’t believe this,” she says, her voice muffled against my chest. “It’s like a dream come true.”
Guilt churns in my stomach. I stroke her hair, trying to keep my voice steady. “I wanted to support your passion, and I want to share this experience with you.”
Phoebe pulls back, still seeming stunned but thrilled. “You’re coming too?”
I nod. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She kisses me then, her lips soft and warm against mine. I return the kiss, pouring all my conflicted emotions into it. When we break apart, she’s breathless and flushed.
“When do we leave?” she asks, excitement bubbling in her voice.
“End of the week,” I say. “I hope that’s not too soon. I know it’s short notice, but?—”
“It’s perfect. Except for my job…”
“Leave that to me.” I give her a charismatic smile. “I’m sure I can charm your boss into holding your position.”
She nods eagerly and hugs me again before stepping back. “Oh, I have so much to do. I need to pack, I need to arrange a back-up dog-walker for my other clients during my time away—” She stops suddenly, frowning. “Wait, what about your work? Can you really take time off so suddenly?”
I’ve prepared for this question. “I’ve arranged everything. My business can run without me for a few weeks, though I might have to do a little work on the trip.”
She studies my face, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed so stressed lately. Is everything okay?”
I cup her face in my hands, hating the lies I’m about to tell. “Everything’s fine. I just realized life’s too short to always be working. I want to make memories with you.”
Her expression softens, and she leans into my touch. “Oh, Mikhail. That’s so sweet.”
I kiss her forehead, closing my eyelids briefly. When I open them, she’s looking at me with such trust and adoration that it nearly breaks me. “So,” I say, forcing lightness into my tone, “Shall we celebrate?”
Phoebe grins. “Absolutely. I was just about to make some apple and cinnamon scones. Want to help?”
I smile, genuinely this time. “I’d love to.”
We move to the kitchen, and she hands me an apron. I tie it around my waist while she starts explaining the recipe.
“The trick is to use cold butter,” she says, demonstrating as she speaks. “And you want to handle the dough as little as possible to keep it flaky.”
I watch her work, admiring her skill and enthusiasm. She catches me staring and blushes.
“What?” she asks, a smile playing at her lips.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “I just love watching you in your element.”
Her blush deepens. “Don’t just stand there. Start cutting the apples.”
I chuckle and get to work. We move around each other in the small kitchen, and I can almost forget the real reason for this trip. Almost.
She kneads the dough. “Tell me more about this itinerary you’ve planned.”
I slouch against the counter, crossing my arms. “I thought we’d start in Edinburgh. There’s a medieval cooking class I’ve booked for you with a chef who specializes in historical Scottish cuisine.”
She looks intrigued. “Really? That sounds amazing.”
I nod, warming to the subject. “Then we’ll tour Edinburgh Castle, of course. After that, we’ll head to the Highlands. I’ve arranged for us to stay in a renovated sixteenth-century castle.”
“A real castle?” Phoebe gasps. “Mikhail, that must have cost a fortune.”
I wave off her concern. “Don’t worry about that. This trip is my gift to you.”
She sets down the dough and turns to face me fully. “Why are you doing all this? It’s so much.”
I swallow hard, choosing my words carefully. “Because you deserve it. Because I...care about you, Phoebe. More than I’ve…cared about anyone in a long time.”
She steps closer, flour-covered hands coming to rest on my apron-clad chest. “I care about you too, Mikhail. So much.”
I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her close. We stand there for a moment, just holding each other. The oven beeps, startling us both. She laughs, stepping back. “Time to get these scones in the oven. What else is on the itinerary?” she asks as she slides the tray into the oven.
I pull myself from my thoughts. “There’s a whisky tasting at a famous distillery. I thought we could learn about the process together.”
Phoebe grins. “That sounds fun. I’m not much of a whisky drinker, but when in Scotland, right?”
I chuckle. “Exactly, and of course, we’ll visit Loch Ness. It’s a bit touristy, but I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to see Loch Ness.” She pauses, tilting her head. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I want it to be perfect.”
She steps nearer again, wrapping her arms around my neck. “It already is perfect, because I’ll be there with you.”
I kiss her, trying to convey all the emotions I can’t put into words. When we part, she’s breathless.
“What was that for?” she asks, a little dazed.
“Just because,” I murmur.
The timer dings, and she reluctantly pulls away to check on the scones. As she bends to open the oven, I allow myself a moment of weakness, closing my eyelids and savoring the domesticity of this scene.
For just a little while longer, I can pretend this is our life. That I’m just a man in love, surprising his girlfriend with a romantic trip. That there’s no danger lurking and no lies between us.
As Phoebe turns back to me, her face glowing with happiness, reality crashes back in. This trip isn’t just a romantic gesture. It’s a desperate attempt to keep her safe, to buy myself time to eliminate the threat to her life. I push aside the thoughts, forcing a smile as she offers me a warm scone moments later.
“Try it. Tell me what you think.” She brings it close to my lips.
I open my mouth to take the bite, and apple and cinnamon explodes on my tongue. “It’s delicious,” I say honestly.
She beams, clearly pleased. “I’m so excited about this trip, Mikhail. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
I pull her close again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re welcome, lyubimaya ,” I murmur, using the Russian term of endearment without thinking.
“What does that mean?” she asks, looking up at me curiously.
I hesitate for a moment before answering truthfully. “It means ‘my love.’”
Phoebe’s lips part, and for a moment, I fear I’ve said too much, but then she smiles, soft and sweet. “I like the sound of that,” she says quietly.
We stand there in her small kitchen, holding each other close, while the scent of freshly baked scones fills the air. For now, everything is perfect. I try to memorize every detail, knowing that soon, everything will change.
A couple of days later, I stride into Cafecito Dreams, inhaling the rich scent of coffee beans. The small café bustles with the morning rush as patrons chatter over steaming cups and pastries. I scan the room, searching for Juanita Fuega, the owner.
I spot her behind the counter, barking orders at a harried-looking barista. Her silver hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and her dark eyes narrow as she catches sight of me. I approach, maintaining a neutral expression.
“Mr. Sokolov,” she says, her tone clipped. “What brings you here?”
I brace my hip against the counter and keep my voice low. “I need to discuss Phoebe’s employment situation.”
Juanita’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? Is she quitting?”
“No,” I say, pulling an envelope from my jacket. “She’s taking a vacation. I want to ensure her job will be waiting when she returns.” I slide the envelope across the counter.
Juanita looks at it suspiciously before picking it up. She opens it, eyes widening as she counts the cash inside. “This is... generous,” she says, looking up at me.
I nod. “It’s enough to hire three temps while Phoebe’s away. I trust that won’t be a problem?”
Juanita purses her lips, considering. After a moment, she nods. “Fine. Her job will be here when she gets back.”
“Excellent.” I straighten up. “I appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Fuega.”
As I turn to leave, Juanita calls out, “Mr. Sokolov?”
I pause, glancing back.
“Take care of her,” she says, her expression softening slightly. “Phoebe’s a good kid.”
I nod once, then exit the café, the bell above the door chiming when I step out into the Miami sunshine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket while approaching my car, where Vlad waits. I pull it out, frowning at the caller ID. It’s Sergei. “What is it?” I ask, sliding into the back seat and nodding to Vlad to drive.
Sergei’s voice is tense. “Boss, we’ve got a problem. Valdés sent men to Phoebe’s apartment. She wasn’t home,” he adds hastily.
My blood runs cold. “What? When?”
“Just now. Our guys spotted them snooping around. They broke in but got away when our men tried to stop them.”
I grip the phone so hard I worry it will break. “What did they want, Sergei?”
He hesitates. “They left a message, of sorts.”
In Russian, reverting in my panicked state, I snap at Vlad to start driving toward Phoebe’s. “I’m on my way. Keep watch on the apartment, especially if she gets home before I get there.”
I hang up as Vlad peels out of the parking lot, weaving through traffic with reckless speed. My heart pounds as I imagine what kind of “message” Valdés might have left. Whatever it is, I know it’s not good.
Halfway through the drive, she calls me to tell me someone has broken in. I’m expecting the call because Sergei texted me that she’d gotten home moments before. He’d already cleared the apartment, so it was safe for her to go up, but there was no time to keep her from discovering whatever Valdés’ men did.
I arrive at Phoebe’s apartment building in record time and rush inside. Approaching her door, I see it’s slightly ajar. My hand instinctively goes to the gun hidden beneath my jacket. “Phoebe?” I call out, slowly pushing open the door though Sergei has advised me it’s safe. He wouldn’t dare let her come up if it weren’t, but these are ingrained instincts built from years in my line of work.
I hear a soft sob from inside. “Mikhail?”
I enter cautiously, scanning the room for any immediate threats. The apartment is a mess—drawers pulled out with contents strewn across the floor. It seems to be just random destruction for destruction’s sake, and the message is clear. Valdés will destroy something innocent to lash out at me.
In the middle of it all sits Phoebe, her arms wrapped around her knees, tears streaking her face. I rush to her side, kneeling beside her. “Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”
She shakes her head, hiccupping slightly. “No, I... I just got home and found it like this. I was about to call the police.”
I pull her into my arms, relief washing over me. She’s safe, at least physically, but Valdés is escalating things.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “I’m here now. We’ll figure this out.”
Phoebe pulls back, wiping her eyes. “Who would do this? Why?”
I hesitate, torn between telling her the truth and protecting her from the harsh reality of my world. In the end, I choose a half-truth.
“Sometimes, in my line of work, people try to intimidate business rivals,” I say carefully. “This might be related to that.”
She scowls. “You think this is because of you?”
I nod grimly. “It’s possible. I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to be caught up in this.”
She takes a shaky breath, looking around at the chaos of her apartment. “What do we do now?”
“First, we call the police,” I say, standing up and offering her my hand. “We need to file a report. Then we’ll get this place cleaned up.”
As she makes the call, I survey the damage more closely, confirming nothing seems to be missing. This was purely about sending a message. My jaw clenches as I think of the audacity of this move.
Phoebe speaks to the police, her voice trembling slightly. Right then, I realize I can’t leave Miami without dealing with Valdés personally. The trip to Scotland will have to wait, at least for me.
The police arrive, asking questions and taking photos. I stay by her side throughout, my hand on the small of her back, offering silent support. When they finally leave, promising to follow up, she sags against me.
“I don’t want to stay here tonight,” she whispers.
I kiss the top of her head. “You don’t have to. Pack a bag. You can stay with me.”
As she gathers her things, I call Sergei, instructing him to arrange for a cleaning crew to come in and restore the apartment. Then, I reach out to my travel agent, making the necessary changes to our plans.
Later that night, as Phoebe sleeps in my bed, I sit in my office, brooding about what has to be done. Phoebe will go to Scotland as planned, but I’ll have to stay behind to ensure it’s safe when she returns.