Chapter 17 – Sasha
I wake up to sunlight spilling across the room, warm and quiet, like the world is pretending everything’s normal. Lev’s side of the bed is empty—his pillow cool, the sheets already neat.
For a moment, I just lie there, staring at the space where he should be. Last night drifts back in pieces—the way he held me like I might disappear, the tension running through him even when he tried to hide it, the way he kissed me like it was both an apology and a promise.
He said everything was fine, but I could feel it in him. It wasn’t.
With a sigh, I stretch, my body aching pleasantly in ways I don’t want to think too deeply about. The silence presses in, too heavy, too aware. I push myself up, head to the shower, and let the hot water wash away the memories still clinging to my skin.
When I’m done, I step into the closet and pull on something simple—jeans, a white shirt, my hair twisted up loosely. I’m not sure what today is supposed to be. A morning after? A normal day in the life of a mafia wife?
I glance toward the door, wondering where he’s gone and if he’s still angry—or worse, still worried.
Because whatever’s happening, I can feel it—something is shifting, and it’s coming closer.
Still, I decide it’s best not to bother him. If Lev’s gone this early, it’s for a reason, and I’ve learned—too quickly—that pressing him when he’s in that kind of mood leads nowhere good.
So instead, I focus my energy elsewhere.
The suite feels too quiet, too big, and my mind needs something to do.
I pull open the closet doors and start unpacking the rest of my luggage, sorting dresses from blouses, hanging things where they belong.
It’s a small act of control in a life that suddenly feels borrowed.
Out of habit, I reach for my documents bag, meaning only to check that everything’s where I left it. My passport, ID, flight licenses—all the pieces of the life I built before this. Before him.
But when I unzip the bag, the pit of my stomach drops.
The passport is gone.
For a second, I think maybe I misplaced it. I empty the bag onto the bed, rifling through every compartment—receipts, notepads, an old boarding pass, my ID. No passport.
I freeze, realization slamming into me like cold water.
He took it.
Lev fucking confiscated my passport.
Anger flares hot in my chest. He didn’t ask. He didn’t tell me. He just took it—like I’m some possession he can lock away.
I clench the edge of the bed until my knuckles ache, forcing myself to breathe through the fury. I already know why he did it—his obsession with control, his paranoia about keeping me “safe.” But that doesn’t make it any less infuriating.
He could’ve asked.
He could’ve trusted me.
Instead, he stole it.
I don’t even try to calm down this time. My feet move before my brain catches up, fury fueling every step as I storm out of the suite and down the stairs. My heart pounds with every stride—part rage, part betrayal, part the sick realization that he’s starting to strip away pieces of me, one by one.
The moment I reach the kitchen, I spot him standing by the counter with Mikhail, both of them bent over steaming mugs of coffee like they’re discussing something normal, something mundane.
I don’t care.
“Why did you take my passport?”
Mikhail looks up, startled. Lev’s head snaps toward me, his expression unreadable. I can feel the tension in the air instantly, heavy and tight. Mikhail starts to rise, muttering something about giving us a minute, but I don’t even glance his way.
“I asked you a question, Lev,” I say, stepping closer. My voice is shaking, but it’s not fear—it’s anger. “Why would you do something like that?”
He sets his mug down with agonizing calm. “Because it’s safer with me.”
“Safer?” I laugh, dark and bitter. “It’s not a weapon, Lev, it’s a passport. You had no right—”
“I had every right,” he cuts in, his tone hardening. “You’re my wife, Sasha. And as long as the Greeks are circling, you don’t set a foot outside this estate without me. You don’t travel. You don’t fly. You stay where I can protect you.”
“I can’t believe you,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend, but I’m too angry to care. “We already talked about it last night. I told you I wouldn’t go anywhere without you. I promised. And yet you still went behind my back and took it?”
Lev doesn’t answer.
“So what is this, then?” I demand, stepping closer. “You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not about trust,” he says finally, his tone calm—too calm.
I let out another bitter laugh. “That’s exactly what people say when it’s entirely about trust.”
He exhales, running a hand down his face, and for a second, I think he might apologize. But of course, he doesn’t.
“If this were about trust,” he says, voice low and steady, “I wouldn’t have let you near that party last night. I wouldn’t have left you alone for a second. But I did, Sasha. I trust you. What I don’t trust are the people who want to hurt you.”
“So you punish me for what they might do?”
“I’m keeping you alive.”
“That’s not living!” The words explode out of me before I can stop them. My pulse hammers in my throat. “You’ve locked me in a house, taken my passport, and decided when I can breathe. That’s not protection, Lev—that’s control.”
Something flickers in his eyes—something that looks a lot like guilt—but it vanishes almost immediately. He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to that quiet, dangerous register that always chills me.
“If control is what it takes to keep you safe, then yes, I’ll control everything.”
The air goes still.
I’m in the middle of shouting again, the words spilling out faster than I can control. “You can’t just decide what I can or can’t do, Lev! I’m not some helpless—”
The kitchen door swings open.
Noelle walks in, balancing a box of pastries and humming under her breath, but she stops short when she sees us. Her eyes dart between my flushed face and Lev’s rigid stance.
“Whoa,” she says carefully. “Did I walk into a war zone or…?”
I shut my mouth, still breathing hard. Lev’s jaw tightens. The tension between us hangs so thick it’s almost tangible.
Noelle sets the pastries down on the counter, her smile strained. “Okay…what’s wrong?”
Lev doesn’t even look at her. His gaze flicks to me once—brief, unreadable—then he straightens, his tone clipped. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
And just like that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.
The door swings shut behind him with a dull thud. I stand there, chest rising and falling, pulse still thrumming with anger and something that feels dangerously close to hurt.
Noelle glances toward the door, then back at me. “So…nothing I need to worry about, huh?”
I huff out a humorless laugh and drop into the nearest chair. “That’s what he says. But apparently, I’m the one who can’t be trusted to leave the damn house.”
Noelle blinks, her brows knitting. “Wait—why do you say that? What’s actually going on?”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. I don’t even know where to start. But once the words start spilling, I can’t stop them.
“The Greeks,” I say quietly. “They’re after me.”
Noelle’s expression shifts from confusion to disbelief. “I’m sorry—what? Isn’t that why Lev married you?”
I nod, my throat tight. “Lev told me last night. Apparently, they want me alive for…something. He didn’t say what. Then I saw Viktor Markovic at the reception, and Elara—this woman I met—she told me who he was. Lev lost it when he found out. Completely.”
Noelle pulls out a chair and sinks into it, her eyes wide. “Sasha….”
“That’s not even the worst part,” I whisper. “This morning, I opened my bag—my documents bag—and my passport is gone. Just gone.” I let out a shaky laugh, though there’s nothing funny about it. “He took it, Noelle. He actually went into my things and took it.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at me like she’s trying to process everything at once.
“I get that he’s scared,” I continue, my voice cracking. “I get it. But he could’ve just asked. He didn’t have to force it from me. It’s like—” I stop, shaking my head. “It’s like he doesn’t trust me at all. Like I’m some problem he has to manage instead of a person he cares about.”
The words sting coming out, more than I expected. My throat burns, and I press my lips together to keep from crying.
Noelle reaches across the counter, her voice soft. “Sasha, he’s probably terrified. If what you’re saying is true—if the Greeks really want you—he’s just trying to keep you safe.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But it doesn’t feel like safety anymore. It feels like a cage.”
Her hand squeezes mine, but I can tell from the worry in her eyes that she understands exactly what I mean.
“Lev is more than he shows, Sasha,” she says. “If he’s acting like this, it’s because he’s in protection mode. And that’s…lethal.”
I swallow hard, staring at the countertop. “I don’t even know why the Greeks are after me,” I murmur. “I have nothing to do with them. I left Greece years ago. I’ve been living my own life. I’ve—” My voice cracks. “I’ve stayed away from all of this.”
Noelle tilts her head, studying me. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all that could explain why they’d be after you?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Not really. I didn’t even know my parents were involved in any Bratva business.
” The words taste strange on my tongue, like they belong to someone else.
“I do remember….” I pause, sifting through the fog of old memories.
“Years ago, my mother was on the phone. She was arguing with someone—in Greek. She didn’t know I was listening.
She sounded…scared. Angry. But I can’t recall details at all. ”
Noelle leans in, her brows furrowing. “That might be something, Sasha. Even if you don’t remember it clearly, that’s—”
The sound of footsteps cuts her off.
I glance over just as Lev strides past the kitchen, his expression like carved stone. Lev’s jacket is slung over his arm, his phone in his hand, already moving with purpose. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t slow down, just heads for the front door.
I watch them leave, a weight settling in my chest. “See?” I whisper. “Always moving. Always planning something. And I’m just…here.”
Noelle squeezes my hand again, her eyes flicking from me to the door, then back. “You’re not just here, Sasha. Whether you realize it or not, you’re at the center of all this. And Lev is only doing this because he cares.”
I nod, but the weight in my chest remains.