Chapter Six - Lukin
I try to forget her.
It should’ve been easy. One night. One girl. I’ve had hundreds of those. They come and go, just like the rest. I’ve never had trouble moving on, never had trouble distancing myself. But this one—this girl—won’t leave my mind. She’s different, and that’s what makes it so damn hard.
I remember the way she looked at me. The way her eyes met mine, wide and unguarded.
Like she wasn’t sure whether she was terrified or fascinated, but she didn’t pull away.
Not like the others. Not like the women who play games or throw themselves at me.
No, she didn’t play. She just… stood there, and I could see it in the way her lips parted, the way her breath hitched when I touched her.
She trembled.
I can still feel the softness of her skin under my hands, the way she reacted to me.
Every gasp, every small movement, like she was learning how to trust me, but was scared of what that might mean.
She didn’t say much, but she didn’t need to.
I saw it all in the way she moved, the way she let me lead her.
And the thing is, she did trust me. Even when she didn’t know me, even when she probably should’ve run, she stayed. And that trust? It’s something I don’t take lightly. I’ve never had a woman trust me like that. Not without hesitation. Not like her.
I should’ve sent her home the moment I realized she wasn’t like the others. The moment I saw how unprepared she was for this world, how vulnerable she was. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I watched her, observed her, and I let myself want her in a way I hadn’t let myself want anyone in years.
And now, she’s living under my skin.
I can’t escape her.
As I struggle with these thoughts, my phone rings on the table. It’s Valentino, my close friend. I almost don’t take the call, but at the last second, I swipe my finger on the screen.
“Yes?”
“We just docked our latest heroin shipment,” he says happily. “Did Adrian tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Hundred bags. Millions of dollars, man. We’re rich.”
“We’ve always been rich,” I answer. “We always will be.”
He laughs. “Look, Lukin, we’ve got a table at the club tonight. You should—”
“No,” I snap, cutting him off. My tone is sharp, harsher than usual, and it’s enough to make him flinch. “I’m not interested.”
“But I—”
I hang up the call, almost throwing my phone across the room.
These past weeks since Zoe have been hell.
I’ve lashed out at everyone, picked a fight with Adrian and snapped at my daughter, which rarely ever happens.
I apologized, but the only way she was going to accept my apology was if I agreed to meet her friends during her birthday in two days.
She’s having the party at the family estate, despite me suggesting she get an event hall outside. But she insists, and the spoiled brat is used to having her way. I’ve had men sweep the estate to make sure it’s safe for the party. I can’t wait for it to be over.
I may have hated it when Maria got accepted into the university to study medicine, but I appreciate how much of her time it takes, so she has less time to cause trouble. The thought of Maria brings a smile to my lips, and I lower myself onto my chair, wondering what to buy her as a gift.
***
The room is dim, the smell of sweat and desperation thick in the air. The man in front of me—scrawny, disheveled—shakes in his chair, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. His hands are bound to the chair, his head hanging low, his breathing shallow.
I don’t need to say much. I’ve done this a thousand times, and they all crack under the pressure. This man stole from me—tried to play the system, thought he could get away with it.
I stand across from him, my arms crossed, leaning against the table, and I watch him squirm. My men are silent, positioned at the corners of the room, their faces cold, unreadable. They know what needs to be done, and they know I don’t tolerate failure.
“You’re lucky,” I say, my voice low and steady. “Usually, I’d make an example out of you. But today, I’ll let you explain yourself. Why’d you steal from me?”
The man opens his mouth but hesitates, the words stuck in his throat. I lean forward, my eyes narrowing. “I’m waiting.”
Finally, he speaks, his voice trembling. “I… I thought I could make some quick cash… I didn’t mean to—”
“Enough,” I cut him off, stepping closer. “You don’t steal from me. You don’t take what’s mine and—my phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration cutting through the tension. I pull it out, checking the screen. It’s my daughter.
I hesitate for a moment before answering.
“Dad!” she whines, her voice giddy and full of excitement. “It’s my birthday today! I told you! Why aren’t you here?”
“Maria, you know I don’t do parties. I’ll meet your friends after. I promise.”
“No. It’s not just about that,” she argues. “You’ve got to come to the party. Just for a little while. I know you’re busy, but… it would mean a lot to me.”
Her words hit me harder than I expect, a pang of guilt threading through me. I know she wants me there, and she doesn’t have to beg. It’s my duty as a father.
I take a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll stop by. For a short time. But that’s it.”
“Thank you!” she says, the relief in her voice unmistakable. “I’m so glad. I love you, Dad.” She blows me kisses over the phone and hangs up.
I turn to my men, blatantly ignoring the shuddering thief in front of me.
“Lock him up,” I say, my tone firm. “I’ll be back in a bit. I need to attend my daughter’s birthday. I’ll be back tonight.”
I enjoy taking thieves apart, limb by limb. I’d looked forward to doing it now, but first, my daughter. Later tonight, I’ll come back to finish this.
The party is loud. The music vibrates through the floor, the bass rattling in my chest as I step into the room.
It’s filled with glitter, champagne, and people in their twenties, all brimming with energy I’m not sure how to tap into.
The space is packed, crowded with laughter and conversation, the light reflecting off glasses and sequins.
This isn’t my crowd. At all. Not only am I probably decades older than the oldest person here, but young people are boring. Meaningless music. Tasteless drinks.
But I don’t show my discomfort. I keep my expression neutral, my eyes scanning the room, my posture rigid. I’m here because I have to be. It’s a father’s duty, a social obligation. And for the next hour, I can play the part.
Maria spots me immediately. Her eyes light up as she makes her way through the crowd, her smile so wide it almost lights up the entire room. She’s glowing, the excitement of her birthday radiating off her, and for a brief moment, I let myself feel a flicker of pride for her.
“Dad!” She loops her arm around mine, dragging me with ease toward a group of girls laughing nearby. I can tell they’re all young, in their twenties, caught up in the kind of carefree joy that’s foreign to me. Maria turns to them, glowing with pride.
“Zoe, meet my Dad, Lukin Rusnak.”
“Dad, my best friend, Zoe Monroe.”
At the mention of that name, my head snaps up and my blood runs still. There, standing in front of me, is Zoe.
It’s her.
The same woman from the club. The same woman whose full name I don’t even know, but whose image has been burned into my mind since the night we shared that fleeting moment.
I watch her face as she registers me. Her eyes widen in shock, and for a brief second, there’s an unmistakable recognition there—her gaze flickers over me, and I see it in the way she freezes, the way her breath catches.
The world around us falls silent, as if time itself has paused. Maria’s voice drifts away, muffled in the distance, her words lost to the moment. It’s just me and her. Frozen. Stunned. Unsettled.
I want to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out. I stand there, my chest tight, my mind racing. I don’t know what to make of this—this encounter, this situation.
I’ve made a mistake.
I shouldn’t have let myself get close to her. I should’ve walked away the moment I saw her. My daughter’s best friend? But I didn’t see her with Maria at the club on that first night. Neither did I see them together on the second night.
I wait, wondering what she would do next. Will she act like she doesn’t know me? Or will she tell Maria that we do know each other? Just not in the way she thinks.
For the first time in my life, I’m content to follow someone’s lead.