Chapter 16 – Lev
It’s a valid question, but for now, I don’t have an answer, so I don’t respond. I take her hand and lead her back to our suite, every thought focused on keeping her safe. When we reach the door, I stop and look down at her.
“Rest,” I say firmly. “I’ll be back.”
Her brows furrow, and she bites her lip. “I can’t rest. Where are you going?”
“I have to handle some things,” I reply, my voice flat but controlled. I brush a strand of hair behind her ear before turning and leaving her inside.
The suite door clicks shut behind me, and I don’t look back.
I march straight to my study. Mikhail is already there, hands shoved into his pockets, looking at me with a measured calm that almost annoys me. How can he look so calm? How can anyone look so calm? I’m raging inside!
“Full security sweep,” I bark. “Perimeter guards, surveillance upgrades, encrypted communications. Everything.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” I growl. “I want every inch of this estate monitored. I want to know where every single person is at all times. I don’t care if it costs a fortune. I’m not letting anything happen to her.”
Mikhail nods and taps rapidly at his laptop, already sending commands to my security network. He summons the other lieutenants. Instructions are clear, precise, and relentless. Every angle covered. Every entrance watched.
As they disperse, I pace the study, my mind half on strategy, half on Sasha. The thought of her in danger gnaws at me. I refuse to let her be a target—not now, not ever.
I can’t rest. I won’t rest. Not until I know she’s safe.
Mikhail’s fingers continue flying over the keyboard, the glow of the screen reflecting on his face. The quiet hum of the surveillance feed fills the study until he suddenly stops, his head snapping up.
“Oh, I remembered something from earlier,” he says urgently.
I still, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “What?”
“One of the Greek guests—probably Viktor’s man. Our cameras caught a tail on him after he left the estate. Could be nothing, could be a warning.” He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “They’re watching, Lev. We can’t be sure how close they are, but this isn’t coincidence.”
I don’t need him to finish. I already know. The Greeks have eyes on Sasha. They’re circling, waiting, patient.
The thought sends a flash of heat through my chest, that familiar mix of fury and possessiveness. They’re testing me, seeing how far they can push before I bite back.
I step closer to the desk, my voice dropping to a lethal calm. “I don’t care how patient they are. Find out everything about that tail. Names, faces, routes. I want their entire chain of command.”
Mikhail nods once, already typing again. I move to the window, staring out into the night, the reflection of my own face hard and cold in the glass.
When I saw Viktor at the reception, to say I was shocked would be an understatement. He came with some other Greek men, and my first instinct was to throw them all out my door. My blood boiled, my fingers itched for violence. But Mikhail and Roman told me to relax.
According to Roman, none of them knew I was privy to the information he gave me about them wanting Sasha. He advised I stay calm and act dumb about it—something that was a hell of a lot harder to do than he made it sound. But I did.
I stood there, in the middle of my own reception, forcing myself to smile and talk to Viktor about business instead of reaching for the gun I wished I had under my jacket. It’s hard—no, it’s nearly impossible—to stand there and speak amicably with a man you know wants your wife.
They want her.
But they’ll have to go through me first.
I leave the office without a word, my mind still burning with the images of Viktor and his men. The hallways blur as I move quickly, each step purposeful, until I reach our suite.
Through the open door, I see Sasha pacing from left to right, the movement sharp, anxious. Her hair is loose, falling over her shoulders, her hands twisted together in front of her. She's still wearing her pretty reception dress.
She stops as I enter, eyes narrowing.
“What’s happening?” she demands, voice tight. “Why are you acting like this? Why are you so…paranoid?”
“Is this a trick question?”
I can’t believe she’s asking me this after I told her exactly what’s happening. Does she not realize the gravity of this situation?
I take in the way her chest rises and falls, the way she’s so tense she almost looks ready to snap. My chest tightens at the sight. She’s mine, and I won’t let the world touch even the edge of her life.
I step closer, the heat between us heavy, my voice low and sharp. “You don’t understand, Sasha. This isn’t paranoia. This is reality. The Greeks haven’t let go of your father’s debt…and they’ve made it very clear they want you.”
“I know, but—”
I move closer until we’re only a breath apart. “From now on,” I say evenly, “you don’t go anywhere without me or Mikhail. Nowhere, Sasha. Not out of this house, not across the street, not to the fucking garden. You understand?”
Her brows knit together, confusion turning quickly into defiance. “Lev, that’s insane. I’m not a child—”
I cut her off, my tone harder, “You’re not a child. You’re my wife. And right now, you’re in danger. That means I decide what’s safe and what’s not.”
Her lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t look away. That stubborn streak of hers—it both drives me crazy and keeps me sane.
I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “I know you want to keep working,” I say, softer this time. “I know you love flying. But that life isn’t safe for you right now. Not until I know the Greeks are done circling.”
Her eyes widen a little. “You’re saying I have to quit?”
“I’m saying you have to wait,” I correct quietly. “Take a step back for now. I’ll make sure you’re safe first, then you can go wherever the hell you want. But until then….” I shake my head. “No airports. No flights. No leaving without me or Mikhail.”
She exhales sharply, turning away from me like she can hide the storm gathering behind her eyes. I can feel her frustration, her loss, the same way I feel my own rage simmering beneath my skin.
“I’m not doing this to trap you,” I add, my voice low, rough with truth. “I’m doing it to keep you breathing.”
Sasha nods silently. “How long do I have to wait and keep all this up?”
Her voice wavers—maybe out of fear, maybe out of frustration. I understand both.
“Until the threat is cleared,” I say, my tone firmer than I intend.
She blinks once, her jaw tightening. “That’s not an answer, Lev. That could mean weeks. Months. A year.”
I hold her gaze, saying nothing. Because she’s right—but saying that out loud would only make it worse.
She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath. I catch only the word control before she spins on her heel and storms into the bathroom. The sound of the door slamming hits me like a slap.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the empty space where she was. Her perfume lingers in the air—rose and vanilla—mocking the silence she leaves behind. Then the water turns on, hard and fast, drowning out everything else.
I drag a hand over my face, exhaling through my teeth.
My pulse is still hammering. I shouldn’t have said it like that.
I know she’s suffocating here, trapped between walls and rules she didn’t ask for.
But the alternative—the image of her being taken, hurt—burns through me so violently I can’t even breathe.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, elbows braced on my knees.
The bathroom door is closed tight, but I can picture her on the other side—hands gripping the counter, chest rising and falling, trying to calm herself down.
She’s always like that when she’s angry.
She doesn’t scream; she quiets. Withdraws until I can feel the distance in my bones.
The water keeps running. A steady hiss that sounds too much like static in my head.
I lean back, staring up at the ceiling. My throat feels tight. “Better you hate me,” I whisper, “than love me and get hurt.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket just as the hiss of water from the bathroom stops. I reach for it before it can ring again. Roman’s name glows across the screen.
“Tell me you have something,” I mutter, my voice low.
There’s a pause on the other end. Then Roman exhales. “I’ve spoken to my contacts in Europe. The whispers are consistent, Lev. The Greeks want the Marino girl alive.”
The words land like a punch to my ribs.
Alive. Not dead. Alive.
My knuckles whiten around the phone.
Roman continues, his voice clipped and cold. “They’ve built enough infrastructure in the States to operate directly from there. This isn’t just another debt-collection stunt. They’re organized. Prepared.”
I stare at the dark window across from me. My own reflection looks back, all hard angles and shadowed eyes. I already know what he’s about to say, but I let him finish.
“It looks like Viktor Markovic will be heading the operation,” Roman says finally. “He’s not hiding it either. If he was at your reception, it wasn’t to drink your champagne. He wanted to look her in the eye.”
My stomach twists. I picture Viktor’s gaze flicking to Sasha across the room tonight—sharp, assessing, like a predator measuring distance to prey. My fingers flex on the phone until my palm aches.
“I spoke to him,” I say. My voice sounds foreign in my own ears—calm, but sharp around the edges. “We had a whole conversation about how things are down in Greece. Business, trade routes, ports—he played the part perfectly.”
Roman grunts, but doesn’t interrupt.
“Not once did Sasha’s name come up,” I continue. “Not once. He looked me in the eye, toasted with me, smiled like a fucking diplomat. Even said he’d like to meet privately sometime to discuss ‘collaborative opportunities.’”
There’s a pause on the line, just Roman’s steady breathing. Then: “You think he’s bluffing?”