Chapter 11
MARI
Yuri lounges in the doorway like we’re old friends killing time. The posture reads friendly, but I’ve watched him as he’s already clocked every exit in this apartment. I couldn’t get past him if I tried.
“How’s your day been?” he asks lightly, as if we’re just making small talk and I’m not being imprisoned in our boss’s penthouse.
“Fantastic,” I deadpan. “It’s always been my dream to be held against my will. Let me go home.”
“I can’t do that,” he answers evenly. “Besides, even if you get past me, there are about twenty guards between the elevator and the lobby doors. They’re a lot less charming than I am.”
“So, I’m in prison,” I huff. “That’s just great.”
“It’s a penthouse,” he corrects mildly.
I stand up, trying to scrape together a shred of control. He doesn’t move, but I can see in his expression that he’s ready to tackle me if it comes to that.
“I want to go home,” I say again.
“I know,” he says, actually sounding sorry. “And I can’t let that happen.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” I ask, seething.
“Both.” He shrugs, a slight grimace on his face. “Lev claimed you.”
I try to process that, but can’t make sense of his words.
“He what?”
“He claimed you,” Yuri repeats, offering no further context.
“We had sex,” I say, heat climbing my neck. “We’re not in a relationship. He’s completely overreacting.”
“It might not be a big deal to you,” he says. “But for him, it’s a huge deal. He doesn’t claim anyone. He doesn’t do relationships. You’re clearly very special to him.”
“This isn’t a relationship!” I laugh sharply, trying to stave off the panic. “This is a fucked up hostage situation. Does he expect me to develop Stockholm Syndrome?”
“He expects you to stay safe,” he corrects. “This is the best way to make that happen. No matter how fucked up you may think it is.”
“I don’t want to be special,” I snap. “I want to go home.”
“Those are not compatible goals today.” He almost smiles.
Under different circumstances, I think I might actually like Yuri.
He’s got a dry wit and seems even-keeled.
For a mobster, anyway. But now that he’s my prison guard, I can’t feel anything for him but hatred.
I start pacing, and he stiffens, very slightly, ready to pounce the moment I look like I might bolt.
I go to the floor-to-ceiling windows and look down at the city. From up here, it looks so calm. Everyone down there is going about their day, not knowing that hundreds of feet above them, I’ve become a hostage.
I sit back down on the couch because there’s nowhere to put the restless energy clawing under my skin.
“What does claimed mean?” I ask finally. “Give me the fine print.”
“It means that you are a very important person in his life,” he answers. “You’ll have 24/7 surveillance, and a guard with you at all times. You won’t go anywhere that Lev doesn’t know about. If you do have to leave the premises for any reason, you’ll be in a heavily guarded fleet.”
“So this is more or less house arrest,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
He doesn’t answer for a moment, just assesses me with his sharp expression.
“Seventy-Seventh has great pasta,” he finally says, completely changing the subject. “I can have it here in fifteen.”
My stomach answers him before I do, loud enough to humiliate me. I scowl.
“Traitor,” I whisper down to it.
Yuri’s eyebrows lift a millimeter.
“The human body is a practical machine. Cacio e pepe?”
“And caprese,” I mutter. “And all the bread.”
He types into his phone, but looks up every few seconds just to make sure I haven’t moved an inch. It’s unsettling how calm and calculating he is.
I decide to pick a new fight.
“Why are you even nice to me? Isn’t this easier if I hate you?”
“You can hate me if you like,” he says. “But hating me isn’t going to change your situation. So, I’d say it would be a lot easier if you think of me as an ally.”
Just then, Lev returns from wherever he disappeared to. He and Yuri exchange a quick look that’s impossibly loaded. Whatever they communicate silently forces Yuri to nod once and leave. Now that he’s gone, there’s no reason for me to hide my anger.
“I want to go home,” I demand for what feels like the hundredth time.
Lev ignores the bite in my tone and sits on the opposite end of the couch from me. “I’ve arranged to move your roommate.”
My spine snaps straight.
“You did what?” I demand, my head spinning.
“Temporarily,” he says. “It’s for her safety.”
“She has a name,” I fire back. “Susie. And she has autonomy. But that’s clearly a concept no one has ever taught you.”
He smiles wryly, but doesn’t respond to the dig.
“You should probably call her and let her know that one of my guards will be showing up at the hospital to escort her until this business is all settled.”
“You can’t do this,” I say quietly, emotion clouding my voice. “We are people. You can’t just control our lives and expect us to thank you for it.”
“Every day you wake up alive and unharmed, you can thank me for it,” he shoots back, a hint of irritation in his voice. “You don’t understand this right now, but everything I’m doing is for your well-being. Someone is after you, Mari, and the sooner you understand that, the better.”
“Someone is after me because of you!” I spit back. “You are the common denominator here. It seems to me like getting away from you would solve this whole problem.”
“It wouldn’t,” he says, almost sadly. “You don’t have to trust me right now, but trust that.”
“So what happens now?” I ask petulantly. “Yuri ordered me lunch. Am I even allowed to open the door when it comes?”
He gives me another sardonic grin.
“One of the guards will bring it in for you,” he answers, turning to face me.
I can’t take it anymore. I get up and start pacing again, sure I’m going to fall apart any second.
Every word out of his mouth feels insane.
It was one thing to know he was the pakhan of a Bratva, but now that I’m seeing the reality of it, I’m floored.
He has to be a sociopath to deal with this on a regular basis.
What the hell have I gotten myself tangled up in?
“Why can’t you bring Susie here?” I ask suddenly, grasping for anything that can make sense out of this new reality. “It would be less work to move all of our stuff to one location, and you’d only have to guard one place. Right?”
“There’s only one spare room,” he points out, and I finally take a moment to look around the massive penthouse.
In all the rush and panic, I barely took in my surroundings.
Now I’m looking at a huge space that clearly houses more than two bedrooms. The living area is an open, two-story plan.
Half of the second floor is taken up by a hallway that looks like it leads to several rooms, not to mention the two rooms on this floor that he’s indicated are offices.
“Fine,” he says, catching that I’m mentally cataloging his entire apartment. “I do have more than one spare room, but it’s actually less secure if you’re in the same space.”
“Explain,” I say, sitting back down and finally looking at him.
He looks more tired than I’ve ever seen him, and I at least get some satisfaction from that. Ruining my life should at least weigh on him a little.
“If someone were to, somehow, get past the twenty guards between the front door and my penthouse, they could take you both as leverage. Or they could kill Sophie to make her one less problem to deal with.”
“Her name is Susie,” I correct, rolling my eyes. “Really, if you’re going to ‘protect’ her too, you should probably learn her name.”
“Her name is of no consequence to me,” he answers sharply, infuriating me even more.
“The point is, she’s only in danger because this person knows where you live.
So she can’t go home, and the guard is just an extra precaution.
As I said, you should probably call her and let her know.
He’ll be at the hospital in approximately two minutes. ”
I huff and get off the couch, heading in the direction he went a few minutes ago.
I find a study with the door half-closed, and know I shouldn’t go in.
It’s clearly his private space. Which is exactly why I do go in and shut the door.
If he’s going to take away my privacy and my choice, I’m going to return the favor.
I lean back against the door and take deep breaths, trying desperately not to cry. The panic hits me all at once, but I promise myself I can fall apart after I call Susie. She needs to know what’s going on.
She doesn’t answer the first two times I call, which is to be expected. She doesn’t normally answer her phone at work. When she does finally answer, she sounds almost annoyed.
“Jesus, Mari, where’s the fire?” she asks.
I don’t even know where to start. How do you explain to someone that her whole life is about to be turned upside down and that it’s my fault? I take another deep breath and talk very fast.
“Susie, listen. Something’s happened and you can’t go home. One of Lev’s men is going to show up at the hospital and he’s going to escort you to a safe house after work. I’m really sorry, but they’re going to get your stuff for you and bring it there.”
“Very funny, Mar.” She laughs. “I think you’re taking this mob stuff a little far.”
“This isn’t a joke, Susie,” I say harshly, my voice finally breaking. “A man is going to show up at the hospital any minute. If he looks anything like Lev’s other guards, he’s probably Russian and huge. He’ll look terrifying, but he’s there to protect you.”
“Mari.” She sighs, and I can hear the eye roll in her tone. “I really have to get back to—” She abruptly stops talking, and I hear her muffle the phone to talk to someone. She sounds annoyed and slightly hysterical. My stomach sinks as I wonder what’s happening.
“Mari, what the fuck?” she asks quietly a second later. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“I told you who he is.”
“He’s a tank!” she hisses into the phone. “He’s just sitting in the waiting room, staring at me.”
“I promise I’ll explain everything soon,” I tell her earnestly. “Just do as he says and don’t try to argue. They’re just here to keep us safe. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Mari—” she starts, but I no longer have the energy to stay standing.
I hang up on her and slide down the door, finally giving in to the panic and letting the tears fall.