Chapter 15 – Sasha #2
Elara hums in understanding. “I restore art in a museum back in New York. That’s my real life. Quiet. Predictable. Nothing like this.”
“That sounds peaceful.”
She smiles faintly as I swirl the last of my drink. “It is, most days. When it’s not stolen paintings and cranky curators.”
We both laugh, the sound soft and easy—two strangers finding something familiar in the middle of a room full of sharks.
“Here,” Elara says, pulling out her phone. “We should grab coffee sometime—somewhere without bodyguards and champagne.”
I grin and nod, tapping my number into her phone. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” She slips the phone away and gives me one last conspiratorial smile. “Welcome to the Bratva world, Sasha. You’ll survive.”
“I’ll try my best,” I say lightly.
“All done, ma’am.” The bartender slides Elara’s drink across the counter, condensation glistening down the glass. She grabs it with a playful grin and takes a sip.
“Oh, this is amazing,” she says, eyes widening as she lets out a delighted hum.
I laugh at her enthusiasm, shaking my head. “Glad you approve.”
As she enthusiastically drinks, my gaze drifts past her shoulder. Across the room, Lev is standing with a tall, broad-shouldered man in an expensive navy suit. The two of them are deep in conversation, their expressions unreadable under the golden lights.
And then, as if he feels the weight of my stare, the man turns slightly—his gaze finding mine across the crowd.
It’s brief, a flicker of eye contact that shouldn’t mean anything. But something in the way he looks at me—sharp, assessing, almost knowing—sends a shiver crawling down my spine.
I force myself to look away, to concentrate on Elara’s playful chatter. But I can still feel it—the heat of that stranger’s gaze burning into my skin long after I’ve turned.
I can’t help it—my eyes find him again. The man in the navy suit. He’s saying something to Lev now, his face molded into a scary frown. He doesn’t look at me again.
A quiet voice beside me pulls me back. “Viktor Markovic,” Elara murmurs, following my line of sight. Her tone drops a note lower, cautious. “If he’s here, there’s always an angle.”
I turn to her, startled. “You know him?”
She nods slowly, her expression carefully neutral. “I know of him. Let’s just say, in this world, you learn fast who to keep a polite distance from. And Viktor?” She takes a small sip of her drink. “He’s one of those men who smiles while he calculates how best to use you.”
A chill creeps through me. I glance back toward Lev, but now he’s facing away, his shoulders tense, his hands clasped behind him.
Elara catches the flicker of worry in my eyes and offers a soft smile, her voice lightening again. “Don’t think too much about it tonight. These events always attract snakes in suits.” She touches my arm gently. “I should make my rounds, but we’ll talk soon, okay? Coffee, maybe lunch. Very soon.”
I nod, grateful for the brief warmth of her presence. “I’m looking forward to it.”
She gives me a little wave, her perfume trailing faintly as she slips back into the crowd, leaving me at the bar—with a growing sense that something isn’t right.
Lev reappears beside me before I even notice him approaching, his presence washing over me like a shadow and a shield at once. His palm slides over mine—warm, steady—before his fingers curl around my hand with quiet authority.
“Stay close to me,” he murmurs, his voice a low command that hums against my ear. “Don’t go anywhere alone tonight.”
There’s something in his tone that makes my heart skip. I turn to study his face, but it’s unreadable—his jaw set, his gaze sweeping the room like he’s measuring every threat.
“Were you talking to Elara Chang?” he asks, eyes flicking briefly toward the crowd where she’d disappeared.
I nod. “Yes. She seemed…nice. We just talked for a bit.”
His expression softens, but only slightly.
“Her father’s a strange man,” he says. “The kind who likes to keep one foot in the light and the other buried deep in the dark. But Elara—” He exhales slowly, his thumb brushing the back of my hand.
“She stays away from Bratva business as much as she can. She’s a good person. ”
I study him for a moment, the muscle in his jaw tightening again, his eyes still scanning the room as though daring anyone to look at me the wrong way.
“I might’ve actually managed to make her a friend,” I say lightly, trying to ease the tension sitting between us. “Elara and I are going to meet for coffee soon.”
Lev’s gaze flicks down to me, his hand still firm around mine. “I’m glad,” he says finally. “You could use someone like her around.”
Then, softer but edged with command, “Just…stay by my side tonight, Sasha. Don’t wander off.”
The seriousness in his tone tugs at my curiosity. “Lev—” I start, but the look he gives me silences the question before it forms.
Whatever this is, whatever’s happening behind those guarded eyes, it’s not something he’s ready to share.
So I just nod, pretending it’s enough. “All right,” I whisper.
His grip tightens briefly, possessive and protective all at once. “Good,” he says, eyes scanning the crowd again. “That’s all I need.”
Soon, the last guests are filing out, murmuring goodbyes, clinking glasses fading into the distance. My cheeks hurt from polite smiles, my head aches from too many polite nods. Lev hasn’t said a word to me in an hour, but his hand has been on my back like a brand, steering me, controlling me.
By the time I wave Noelle off, I’m done. Done with his cold stare. Done with his silence. Done with being paraded like a prize.
I march out of the hall with a sharp huff, heels clicking against the marble, my dress swishing angrily around my legs.
I don’t get far.
Strong fingers wrap around my arm just before I reach the corridor. He turns me, his eyes hard and glinting under the dim lights.
“I thought I told you not to wander far away from me,” Lev says, his voice low and sharp, more dangerous than if he’d raised it.
The words scrape across my pride like sandpaper. I tug my arm, but his grip doesn’t loosen.
“I needed air,” I shoot back, breathless and furious. “I’m not a child on a leash, Lev.”
His jaw clenches. “You’re my wife,” he says, softer but heavier, like a threat wrapped in silk.
“Well, you seem to have forgotten that earlier,” I snap, voice trembling with anger and something that feels too much like hurt. “You barely said a word to me. I’m not a dog, Lev. I’m a woman. Talk to me.”
He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath all night. His jaw ticks before he finally says, “I want to protect you.”
I stare at him, disbelief curling in my chest. “You can protect me and talk to me,” I say quietly. “What is going on, Lev?”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His gaze drifts past me, to the end of the empty corridor, as though he’s searching for the right words—or the strength to say them. When his eyes return to mine, they’re shadowed, grave.
“The Greeks haven’t let go of the debt, Sasha,” he says finally, his voice low and edged with steel. “And they’ve made it clear—they want you.”
The words hit like a slap.
I blink, once. Twice. My throat dries up. “What?”
He doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t have to. The look in his eyes tells me everything—this isn’t an empty threat. This is real.
My heart starts to race, pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. All I can think is—why? Why now? Why after everything?
But when I finally manage to speak, my voice barely comes out as a whisper. “What do you mean they want me?”