CHAPTER 27
SLOANE
The penthouse, normally a space of serene luxury, seems to have changed its nature completely. The very walls that once seemed like an elegant gilded cage to me have now transformed into a refuge, a bastion against the danger we just faced.
Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins as I watch Alexei’s men secure every entrance, every window.
They check security systems, adjust codes, and speak in tense whispers over their comms. The sound of their boots against the marble floor echoes like a constant reminder: we’re safe, but the danger hasn’t passed.
On the main living room sofa, Harper sits with a blanket over her shoulders despite the heat.
Her face has regained some color, but her hands still tremble slightly as she holds the cup of tea one of the guards prepared for her.
The scent of herbs and honey floats in the air, a fragile attempt at normalcy.
Alexei kneels in front of her, his hands wrapping around his wife’s.
It’s disconcerting to see this man—who moments ago executed a kidnapper with the cold efficiency of a machine—now showing such absolute tenderness.
His fingers stroke the backs of Harper’s hands delicately, as if afraid she might break.
"The doctor will be here in twenty minutes," he tells her, his voice low and soothing. "Just to make sure you and the baby are perfectly fine."
Harper nods, a weak smile curving her lips.
"We’re okay," she replies, bringing one of Alexei’s hands to her belly. "It was just a scare."
A few feet away, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Dimitri watches me with an intensity I can almost physically feel on my skin.
He hasn’t come closer since we got to the penthouse, keeping a distance that seems calculated.
But his eyes haven’t left me for a second, vigilant, possessive, as if he fears I might disappear if he looks away.
When our eyes meet, a shiver runs down my spine. His expression is undecipherable, but there’s something in the tension of his jaw, in the way his fingers dig into his own arms, that tells me everything I need to know: he’s holding back. For me. For Harper. For the situation.
And that, somehow, moves me more than any explicit gesture.
Alexei’s phone vibrates. He checks it quickly, his expression hardening as he reads the message.
"We’ve identified them," he says, addressing Dimitri. "We have their contacts, their escape routes, everything."
Dimitri pushes off the wall, his entire posture changing instantly. From vigilant observer to predator ready for the hunt in a single fluid movement.
"Let’s go," he replies, and the simple word contains a promise of violence that makes the room seem suddenly colder.
Alexei turns to Harper, cupping her face in his hands with a delicacy incongruous with what I just heard.
"I’ll be back as soon as possible and I’ll be in touch with the doctor," he promises, kissing her forehead. "Rest, lyubimaya ."
Harper nods, resting her hand over his.
"Be careful," she whispers. "We both need you."
The look they share is so intimate I feel the need to look away, as if I were witnessing something sacred.
Dimitri moves toward the door, but stops as he passes me. He doesn’t touch me, but his proximity is so intense I can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell his scent of leather and metal. He leans in slightly, his breath grazing my ear.
"Don’t leave this place," he orders, his voice a gravelly murmur. "No matter what happens, stay with Harper until we get back."
It’s not a request. It’s an order, and it should irritate me. But after what happened, after seeing him interpose his body between a gunman and me, I can't find indignation anywhere in my being.
"You take care," I reply simply, resisting the urge to grab his shirt, to keep him by my side. To kiss him so he understands what he makes me feel.
His eyes soften for an instant, so brief I could have imagined it. Then he turns and follows his brother toward the exit. Before the doors close, he casts me one last look. There’s no goodbye. Just a raw intensity that leaves me breathless.
And then they’re gone.
The silence they leave behind is oppressive, broken only by the low murmur of the guards remaining in the hallway outside. I take a seat next to Harper on the sofa, allowing myself to exhale for the first time since this nightmare began.
"You should drink something," I suggest, noticing her empty tea cup. "Want me to make you another?"
She shakes her head, placing the cup on the side table with a soft clink.
"I couldn’t swallow another thing right now."
Her eyes, always expressive, are now shadowed by a mix of emotions I can’t fully decipher.
"How are you really?" I ask, taking her hand in mine.
Harper sighs, a sound heavy with weight.
"Scared. Relieved. Guilty," she lists, her voice barely a whisper. "And worried about you."
"About me?" Surprise colors my voice. "I’m the one who should be worried about you. About the baby."
She squeezes my hand, her gaze suddenly more intense.
"Sloane, you saw things today," she says slowly. "Things you should never have seen."
A shiver runs through me. Harper isn’t talking about the kidnappers.
"I don’t know what you mean," I lie, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
Harper looks at me with a mix of sadness and resolve.
"The gunmen. The underground levels. Alexei and Dimitri... the way they acted," she lists. "I owe you an explanation. I’ve owed you one from the beginning."
My heart starts racing. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for since I got to Las Vegas. The truth, straight from the source. And yet, now that it’s about to be revealed, a part of me fears what I might hear.
"You don’t have to explain anything to me," I say, but she’s already shaking her head.
"Yes, I have to," she insists. "Because you’re my best friend, and because you deserve to know what I’ve dragged you into."
She shifts on the sofa, turning toward me. The sunset light filtering through the large windows bathes her face in golden tones, highlighting the determination in her eyes.
"Alexei and Dimitri aren’t simple casino owners," she begins, her voice steady despite the magnitude of what she’s confessing. "They’re the leaders of the Morozov Bratva, one of the most powerful Russian criminal organizations on the West Coast."
Although I already knew, hearing it directly from her lips makes the reality settle differently in my stomach. More real. More defined.
"And my father," she continues with a bitter laugh, "that 'businessman' who was always too busy for me, is Liam Keller, the head of the Irish mob in New York."
I keep my expression carefully neutral, allowing her to speak.
"About a year ago, my father betrayed Alexei in a deal. It cost him millions of dollars and the lives of several of his men." Her fingers toy nervously with the edge of the blanket. "Alexei swore revenge. And that revenge... was me."
The air seems to solidify between us.
"Alexei kidnapped me," she says, the words coming out now in an unstoppable torrent. "He tore me from my life in Brooklyn as punishment for my father. At first, it was... it was terrifying. I was furious, scared, desperate to escape."
Her eyes get lost in the distance, reliving memories.
"But then, something changed. We changed," she continues, a soft smile curving her lips. "What started as revenge transformed into something else. We started really getting to know each other. Talking. Understanding each other. And I fell in love with him, Sloane. With all my soul."
She takes a breath, her hands instinctively stroking her round belly.
"And he fell in love with me. One day we were screaming at each other, and the next... it was like we’d found what we didn’t know we were looking for.
" Her voice cracks slightly. "I know how it sounds. I know it looks like Stockholm syndrome or some other twisted psychological explanation. But it’s not. What we have is real. He gave me the choice to leave, and I wanted to stay by his side. I’d choose him a thousand times over. "
She pauses, watching me warily, waiting for my reaction.
"Do you hate me?" she finally asks, her voice small, vulnerable. "Do you hate me for not telling you sooner? I was terrified of what you’d think of me, of putting you in danger..."
The lump in my throat is so thick I can’t speak for a moment. The irony of the situation hits me with almost physical force. All this time, believing I was coming to rescue her, when actually...
"Harper," I manage to articulate finally, taking her hands in mine. "How could I hate you? You’re my sister in everything but blood."
Her eyes fill with tears.
"You don’t think I’m crazy? Or that they’ve brainwashed me?"
"I’ve seen the way he looks at you," I answer honestly. "I’ve seen how he treats you. How he protects you. I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way Alexei looks at you. No one needs to tell me he loves you above anything else."
Harper lets out a choked sob, half laugh, half cry.
"You know? That’s the same way Dimitri looks at you."
My heart gives a lurch so violent I can hardly breathe for a moment.
"That’s different," I murmur, but the words sound weak even to me.
Harper tilts her head, studying me.
"Is it?" she asks softly. "I’ve seen how you behave when he’s around. How you react. And today... the way he put himself between you and that gun..."
The memory hits me: Dimitri covering me with his body, becoming a human shield without a moment of hesitation.
"It’s complicated," I say, the words coming out brokenly.
"Love always is," Harper replies with a wisdom she seems to have suddenly acquired. "Especially with men like them."
A silence falls between us, not uncomfortable but expectant, as if the very air were holding its breath waiting for my confession.
"I like him." The words escape my mouth before I can stop them, as if they’d been waiting for this moment to break free. "God help me, Harper, but I’ve fallen in love with Dimitri Morozov."
Saying it out loud, finally admitting it, is like releasing pressure I didn’t know I’d been holding. The tears I’ve been holding back for hours begin to fall freely down my cheeks.
Harper wraps me in her arms, rocking me gently just like I used to do with her when we were teenagers and her dad had forgotten to call for her birthday.
"Then go for him," she whispers against my hair. "Life is too short and too unpredictable to deny what you feel."
A sob escapes my throat, mixing relief and despair in equal parts.
"It’s not that simple," I manage to say through tears. "There are things you don’t know. Things I’ve done..."
Harper pulls back slightly, cupping my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her.
"Do you love him?" she asks directly.
"Yes," I reply without hesitation. "More than I thought possible."
"Then, whatever it is, you guys can overcome it together," she asserts with a conviction I wish I shared. "If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that these men, with all their flaws and their darkness, love with an intensity that defies all reason.
When a Morozov chooses you, there’s no turning back. "
I nod, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. If only it were that simple. If only I could run to Dimitri and confess everything: who I am, who I work for, why I really came to Las Vegas.
But first, there’s something I must do. Someone I have to talk to. A betrayal I must stop before it’s too late.
Because even if Harper can forgive my lies, I’m not sure Dimitri can forgive my betrayal. And if there’s even the slightest chance of a future with him, I need to clear my conscience first.
"Thanks for telling me everything," I say finally, squeezing her hands. "For trusting me."
Harper smiles, a genuine smile that lights up her whole face.
"We’re family, Sloane. No matter what."
Family . The word resonates inside me with a weight it’s never had before. Harper is my family. And maybe, just maybe, Dimitri could be too.
But first, I have to fix the biggest mistake of my life.