Chapter 9 – Sasha
I wake to sunlight slicing through the blinds and immediately feel the weight of yesterday pressing down on me. My chest is tight, my stomach still knotted from the conversation I had with Lev yesterday. I roll over, hoping maybe if I ignore the world for a few more minutes, it will leave me alone.
But then I hear a soft knock at the door, followed by the familiar warmth of a voice. “Sasha?”
I sit up and see Noelle standing there, eyes wide, looking both relieved and exasperated. She must have been summoned by Lev, which was very nice of him, I can admit to myself.
“Noelle,” I breathe, pulling her into a tight hug. Her presence is a balm I didn’t know I needed. “Please…pull me out of this mess. Talk to Niko or someone—anyone. Make them fix this.”
I know she must have heard what happened. Her husband, Niko, is very close to Lev, and can talk him out of this madness.
Noelle sits on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping mine, and shakes her head. “Sasha…I’ve already talked to Niko. There’s…there’s no other choice. If they let this go unpaid, the Bratva looks weak. And you—you’re not in a position to repay the debt yourself.”
I feel my chest tighten, the words hitting me like a punch.
My stomach lurches, and I can feel the sting of tears threatening to spill.
“Oh my God…” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
I press my palms to my face, trying to stop them, but the tightness won’t let up.
I want to scream, to throw something, to run—but I know running isn’t an option.
Noelle leans closer, her voice gentle but firm. “The only option…is to marry Lev. I’m so sorry, Sasha. I know this isn’t what you wanted.”
I pull my hands away and look at her, my throat tight, blinking rapidly to hold the tears back. My lips tremble, and my voice is barely a whisper. “I…I can’t believe this. I…I just…I can’t.”
She sighs, squeezing my hands again. “I know, love. I know. But right now, this is the only way to keep you safe. The only way to keep the Bratva from using you like…like property.”
I lean back against the pillows, my legs trembling, and bury my face in my hands. The weight of it all presses down like I can’t breathe. “I don’t want to marry him,” I murmur, and for a moment, the tears almost escape.
Noelle’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Sasha…you don’t understand. If the Bratva hands you over to the Greeks, it won’t just be…unpleasant. It will be dangerous. You could disappear, or worse. They don’t play by any rules we know.”
I pull my hands from my face, blinking through the sting of tears. “I know,” I murmur, my voice hollow. “I…I can’t even imagine….”
She grips my shoulders, steadying me. “And that’s why Lev—” She pauses, searching my face for a reaction. “He had no reason to offer this marriage. None. He doesn’t have to. But he did. That means…he cares about you. Your safety. Your life. This…this isn’t just business to him.”
I take a shaky breath, looking at Noelle.
“I…I hate him,” I admit, my voice tight.
“I can’t stand the thought of being tied to him.
But…I can’t deny that his name is the only thing keeping me safe right now.
He could walk away, hand me over to the Greeks, and no one would stop him.
The debt would be repaid, and that would be the end of it.
But he…he’s not. He’s choosing to marry me instead. ”
Noelle’s eyes soften, but she doesn’t speak. I don’t need her to. The truth hangs heavy in the room, a mixture of anger, fear, and reluctant relief.
Before she can say anything, there’s a knock on the door. Sharp. Authoritative.
My stomach twists. “That’s him,” I whisper, my throat dry.
Noelle glances at me, a warning in her eyes. “Just…stay calm, Sasha. Whatever happens, just—breathe.”
Noelle opens the door, and he steps in like he owns the place—coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up, that impossible calm on his face. “Good morning, Sasha,” he says smoothly, eyes flicking to me as if nothing’s wrong. “Coffee?”
I snatch the mug from him before he can even set it down, heat flaring through me. “Coffee? You think a cup of coffee makes up for this—this absurdity?!” My voice cracks, part anger, part disbelief.
He raises a brow, unfazed, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s morning, Sasha. What’s it going to be?”
I throw my hands up, exasperated. “Why me? Why are you the one making all these decisions for me? Why this…this madness?”
Beside Lev, Noelle is mouthing for me to stay calm, but I completely ignore her.
Lev sips his coffee, calm as if I’ve asked the most mundane question in the world. Then he looks at me, gray eyes cutting through my anger like a blade.
“Because I can,” he says simply, and I feel my chest tighten at the audacity of it.
I blink, trying to process. “Because you can?”
He sets the mug down and takes a step closer, his voice low and measured. “Yes. This problem has been brought onto you by your father, Sasha. Don’t be mad at me for fixing it in the only way it can be fixed. I’m not your enemy here.”
I stare at him, speechless for a moment, caught between disbelief and fury. His gaze doesn’t waver, not for a second, and the sheer confidence, the control, makes my pulse spike.
“Not my enemy?” I repeat, voice sharp. “You’re the one deciding my life, my future. You’re the one—”
“—saving you from something far worse,” he interrupts, voice firm, unyielding. “That’s the truth, Sasha. And you’ll thank me for it one day. Or at least…survive it. Now, what’s it going to be?”
I can feel my pulse in my temples, a slow, angry drum. He stands there, calm and untouchable, like he’s already won. Maybe he has. Maybe there’s no way out of this.
I straighten my spine and meet his eyes head-on. “Fine.” My voice comes out hoarse but steady. “I’ll marry you.”
For the briefest second, his expression flickers—something dark, something satisfied—before the mask returns.
“But don’t you dare expect me to love you,” I snap, each word a bullet.
Lev’s mouth curves into a smirk so sharp it’s almost a wound. He takes another step closer, close enough that I can smell the clean bite of his cologne. “Oh,” he says softly, almost a purr, “I’ll take care of that.”
The promise in his voice is a dangerous one. Not a threat, not exactly. But not a mercy either.
Noelle rushes to the bed the moment Lev’s footsteps fade down the hall. She drops onto the mattress beside me, grabbing my hands. “Why are you pushing him like that?” she asks, eyes wide, almost frantic.
I pull my hands back, shrugging. “Because…I don’t know. Everything’s happening too fast. He just…walks in and expects me to bend.”
“No, Sasha. Look at him,” Noelle says softly, her tone almost pleading. “Lev is on your side. He offered you a choice; he’s keeping you safe. That’s not something anyone else would do.”
I frown, biting my lip. “Safe, maybe. But it’s still him controlling everything. I don’t even get to decide what happens next. And—” I swallow hard, “—I can’t stop thinking about what it will mean. Being married to him. Living under his name. It’s…it’s overwhelming.”
Noelle shakes her head, tugging me closer. “I know it’s huge. And yes, it’s a massive change. But he’s the only one who can protect you from the alternative. Do you really want the Greeks involved? Do you really want to risk—”
I cut her off with a bitter laugh. “Of course I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. That doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
Noelle presses her forehead to mine. “You’re allowed to hate him. But don’t forget he’s the only one standing between you and complete ruin. That’s…that’s huge, Sasha. And maybe…maybe that’s a place to start, even if it’s not love.”
I shake my head. “Let’s talk about something else. I feel like my head is about to explode.”
Noelle and I linger until late afternoon, laughing at old memories and talking about everything and nothing. Eventually, she checks her watch and sighs. “I’ve got lunch with Niko. You behave while I’m gone,” she teases, giving me a tight hug.
“I’ll try,” I murmur, letting her go, though part of me aches at the thought of being left alone.
She waves one last time and walks out the door, the click of her shoes fading down the hall. I stare at the empty room for a moment, the quiet pressing in.
I crawl back onto the bed, pulling the blankets around me.
My body is still heavy from the long flight, my mind restless with thoughts I can’t untangle.
I force myself to close my eyes, to let sleep take me again, even if it’s fitful and shallow.
For a few hours, I let the world fade away—and Lev, and the Bratva, and every impossible thing he’s made me feel.
I don’t know how long I sleep for, but later, I jerk awake to the creak of my bedroom door. My heart spikes, and I sit up, frowning when Lev walks in. He looks great in black dress pants and a deep brown shirt.
“Lev,” I say, voice sharp. “Get out.”
He pauses by the doorway, hand raised like it’s nothing, casual as ever. “Dinner’s ready,” he says. “You can come down.”
I scowl, shaking my head. “I’m not hungry. Go.”
He doesn’t move. My stomach tightens. Finally, he shifts, half-turns at the door…then stops again, eyes catching mine.
“We’ll be married in three days,” he says, voice low and lethal, half-command, half-promise. “And you’ll be moving into my master suite.”
“I’m not moving into your master suite,” I snap, crossing my arms. “And I will never sleep with you.”
He laughs, low and amused, the sound rumbling in the quiet room. I can see the confidence in his stance, the way he tilts his head slightly and casually.
It annoys me more than it should. My jaw tightens, and just to spite him, I jab the words out. “Honestly, you’re not even that good at it anyway.”
Before I can even blink, he’s at my side. The air shifts, thick with heat and danger. In one terrifyingly smooth motion, he lifts me from the bed like I weigh nothing, pressing me against the wall. My arms flail for balance, heart hammering.
“Have you been sleeping around with other people?” His voice is low, dangerous, and close enough that I can feel the vibration against my skin.
I gape at him, heat flaring in my cheeks. “W-what?!”
His gray eyes bore into mine, unrelenting. “Answer me,” he growls, and I can hear the feral edge beneath the control, the need that’s always there, simmering just below the surface.
“Who are you comparing me to? Hmm?”
I push at his chest, chin tilting up just enough to be insolent. “What? You think I’ve been pining after you all this time?” My voice drips with sugar and venom. “Please. I’ve slept with plenty of men after you, Lev. You weren’t that special.”
The words land like a slap. For a heartbeat, he just stares at me, unreadable. Then his expression fractures—something dark, primal flashing across his face.
“Say it again,” he growls, pinning me against the wall. His eyes aren’t cold now; they’re wild, a storm of possessive rage. “Say it again and see what happens.”
I try to hold my glare, to look unbothered, but his grip, his nearness, the heat coming off him—it all snatches the breath from my lungs. “I already did,” I snap. “I’m not yours. You don’t own me.”
His face lowers to mine, his breath hot at my ear. “If that’s true,” he says, voice gone quiet and deadly, “then all those other men will meet their death tonight.”
The promise in his tone freezes me. It’s not an empty threat; I see it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw. This isn’t bluster—this is the Bratva talking.
He exhales sharply, as though fighting himself, and then—almost tenderly—he sets me back on the bed, fingers trailing off my arms. His eyes are still wild when he turns toward the door.
I lunge forward, grabbing his arm before he reaches the door. “Wait! I—I was only kidding!” My voice cracks slightly, and my heart is racing a mile a minute. “There’s been no one…. Just you. Only you.”
He freezes, his back still to me. I can feel the tension in his shoulders, the storm in him still simmering. Slowly, I feel him exhale, a long, deliberate release, and when he turns, the fire in his eyes has dimmed—just a little.
“You’d better mean that,” he mutters, voice rough, but calmer now. There’s still heat there, but it’s less sharp, more…contained.
“I mean it,” I insist, stepping closer, daring to hold his gaze. “No one else. Just you, Lev.”
He studies me, silent for a beat that stretches too long, then finally lets his arms drop to his sides. The wildness in his expression softens, replaced with something heavier, possessive but measured.
He steps closer, the air around him thick and sharp. “Don’t play like that,” he growls, voice lethal. “I don’t mess around, Sasha. You…you belong to me. Alone.”
My chest tightens, my heart hammering. The words burn in a way I didn’t expect, possessive and dangerous, and I can’t look away.
He turns sharply and walks toward the door, leaving me frozen on the bed. The click of the door closing behind him echoes in the room like a verdict.
I sink back into the mattress, breathing hard, my mind racing. Him saying it—that I belong to him—it’s terrifying. And yet, impossibly, it makes my pulse spike in a way I can’t deny.
My breath is uneven, hands trembling in my lap.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
The realization hits me like a slap. I hate myself for it, but I can no longer deny it—my body is betraying me, my pulse still running wild from his voice, his touch.
I want him.
Now, just as much as I wanted him in Milan. Maybe even more.
I press my palms against my thighs, trying to steady myself, but the shiver crawling up my spine won’t go away.
He’s gone, but he’s everywhere. I cannot escape Lev Rusnak.