Maggie #3
Viktor driving me home. Alexei telling me to answer when he calls. The way he’s always aware of where Ivy is.
Beside me, Jules lowers his clipboard slowly. His expression loses every trace of humor.
“Maggie,” he says quietly, “that man thought you were in danger before we even knew there was danger.”
My attention stays locked on Alexei while my pulse pounds unevenly beneath my skin.
“Oh, my heavens.” The words leave me on a whisper.
Alexei studies my face before stepping closer. “Come here.”
His hand brushes lightly against the small of my back, guiding me away from Jules, the two men, and curious eyes. We stop near the side of the building beneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree.
I cross my arms tightly over my chest. “What exactly is goin’ on?”
Alexei’s jaw tightens once before he answers. “A few days ago, photographs were delivered to me.”
My stomach drops so fast it almost makes me dizzy. “What photographs?”
His eyes hold mine. “Of you.”
Every muscle in my body goes still.
“The shelter,” he continues quietly. “Your apartment. The diner. Your mother’s house.”
I genuinely can’t process the words. Warm air clings to my skin, but a chill moves through me anyway.
“What are you sayin’?”
“They were taken over several days.”
I stare at him, my eyes narrowing. A car passes somewhere behind us. One of the volunteers laughs nervously near the parking lot. Dogs are still barking in their kennels. The entire world keeps moving while mine tilts sideways.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my fingers flying to my lips.
Jules is right. I have a stalker.
Alexei watches me carefully, like he’s gauging whether I’m about to panic. “I increased security around places connected to you while I looked into it.”
“You got photographs of me and didn’t tell me?” My hand pushes through my hair before I realize my fingers are trembling. “Alexei, that’s not a normal sentence.”
“No,” he says. “It isn’t.”
The honesty in the answer rattles me more than excuses would have.
“How did you even get these photos?”
His silence lasts less than three seconds, but it’s still too long. I hold up one hand quickly. “Actually, never mind. Don’t tell me.”
Because standing here looking at him now, I suddenly understand something important. There are parts of Alexei Agapov’s life that exist in rooms I don’t want to walk into.
I glance back toward the shelter instinctively.
Luka stands near the police cruiser, typing rapidly, while the other man speaks into an earpiece near the parking lot entrance.
Neither looks rushed nor uncertain. They look practiced.
Professional. Like this kind of thing happens often enough that everyone already knows their role.
I look back at Alexei. “You’re not just some rich businessman.” It’s not a question.
“No.”
There’s no attempt to soften it into anything easier to accept. Just the truth.
I study him harder now. The expensive watch against his wrist. The sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. The tattoos that climb from his hands to his neck.
The calm expression, while his men quietly reposition themselves around the shelter without waiting for instructions.
Power moves around him differently than it does around most wealthy men.
It’s less performative and more dangerous.
Alexei’s voice lowers. “Does that scare you?”
I should say yes. Any sane woman would. Instead, I look up at him standing between me and whatever nightmare has suddenly attached itself to my life, and the truth slips out before I can stop it.
“No.”
A tiny change crosses his face, almost impossible to notice, but I see it anyway.
“I think,” I admit carefully, “I actually feel safer with you here.”
His eyes stay locked on mine despite everything happening around us. Then another thought crashes into me all at once.
“My mama’s car got broken into, too.”
Every trace of warmth disappears from his face instantly. “My men should have informed me.” His jaw hardens, and one hand curls into a fist at his side. “That oversight won’t happen twice.”
I tell him everything quickly. Either last night or early this morning. The shattered driver-side window. The registration papers thrown everywhere. The center console dumped out. Then I tell him about my blue shelter hoodie, neatly folded on the front seat.
By the time I finish, Alexei has gone completely still. Quiet in a way that feels very dangerous. He glances toward his men, and they immediately start walking over without him needing to say much at all.
“Ivan, adjust rotations around Teresa Hayes’s residence,” he says evenly. “Double evening coverage.”
“Yes, boss,” Ivan answers.
Luka is already typing before the sentence fully finishes.
“Luka, get me the police report from Teresa Hayes’s vehicle break-in. Have Sasha handle it.”
Luka nods once, continuing to type on his tablet.
Alexei looks at me again. “Tell me exactly who has access to Ivy while she’s here.”
The second he asks, the entire conversation feels different, and a sick feeling twists low in my stomach.
“Staff. Volunteers. Visitors during adoption hours.” I swallow carefully.
“Names,” Alexei says quietly.
Luka nods.
I glance back toward the shelter, suddenly seeing everything differently. The open lobby. Volunteers moving in and out. Doors that stay unlocked during adoption hours.
“You think this is connected to Ivy?” I whisper.
“I think someone is watching the people connected to her,” he says carefully. “And I intend to find out why.”
The hair stands up on the back of my neck, not because I think he’s wrong, but because I believe him completely.
Alexei steps closer, lowering his voice enough that only I can hear him.
“I’m going to handle this myself.”
Relief hits first. Then, nervousness follows immediately after. I’m beginning to understand that whatever Alexei considers “handling” probably exists far outside police and security reports.
“I will protect you, Maggie.”
He doesn’t look away from me when he says it. It’s a promise spoken with terrifying certainty. And standing there outside the damaged shelter while his men quietly reorganize security around my life, I realize the terrifying part isn’t what Alexei is. It’s that even knowing it, I still trust him.