Marie
I’m just a normal woman. An accountant, a daughter, a sister, a person who minds her own business. But now, I know—normal doesn’t mean safe.
My hands are shaking.
I stare at my phone screen, scrolling through my text messages again, hoping—praying—that I somehow missed them the last five times.
But they’re still gone. The messages I sent. The ones I know I should have gotten replies to. They’re just… gone.
I swallow hard, my mouth dry as sand.
Maybe it’s just my phone. A glitch. A weird reset.
But that doesn’t explain why every single guy I’ve tried to date in the last few months has suddenly disappeared. No calls. No texts. No social media. No showing up to work. Just… gone.
My stomach knots. I rub my arms, a shiver racing down my spine. My apartment feels too quiet. Too still.
And then—I hear it. A noise. Soft. Barely there. But inside my apartment.
I freeze, heart slamming into my ribs.
I turn toward the front door.
And my breath stops.
Because I know I locked it. I know I did.
So why the fuck is it… cracked open?
A whimper slips from my lips.
I grip my phone tighter, my pulse pounding so hard it’s all I can hear.
My vision swims for a second, my breath too fast, too sharp, panic clawing up my throat.
I force myself forward, step by terrified step.
The door isn’t wide open. Just barely. Just enough.
Maybe I forgot. Maybe I—
No. I know I locked it. I know I fucking did.
I reach out with a shaking hand, pressing it closed, locking the deadbolt.
It doesn’t help. Because the fact that it was open at all means… someone was here. Someone was in my apartment.
My knees almost give out. My vision tunnels.
I can’t be here anymore.
I fumble for my phone, barely able to see the screen. Dial the only number that makes sense.
It rings once. Then—
“?” My father’s voice. Deep, familiar. Safe.
I choke on a breath. “Daddy—”
“What’s wrong?” His voice sharpens, instantly on edge.
“I—I think someone’s been in my apartment.” My voice breaks. “There’s something weird with my phone. And the door—” I press a trembling hand over my mouth, shaking so hard my teeth clatter. “It was open. I know I locked it, but—it was open.”
Silence. Then, his voice comes out tight. Low. Terrified. “I’m coming over.”
The line clicks dead.
I sag against the wall, my breath hitching, but the feeling doesn’t leave me. A heavy, choking feeling. Like someone is still here. Like someone is watching.
* * *
My father arrives fifteen minutes after our call. By then, I’ve locked everything. Windows. Doors. Closet. Even checked under the damn bed.
I don’t feel safe. Not even close.
I sit on the couch, hugging my arms around myself, breathing too fast, waiting for something to happen.
When his key scrapes in the lock, I jump, my heart nearly choking me.
“.” His voice is sharp, urgent.
I rush to the door, barely getting it open before he steps inside, locking it behind himself. His gaze cuts through the apartment, sharp and assessing.
His face is tense, his dark brown skin drawn tight over his cheekbones. I’ve never seen him look like this.
I tell him everything. The messages. The perfume bottle out of place. The door I know I locked that was suddenly open. How none of it was the first time.
I expect him to tell me I’m overreacting. But he doesn’t.
He moves past me, his hand already reaching into his coat. For his gun.
My stomach drops. I watch, my breath shallow, as he scans the living room. The kitchen. Then my bedroom.
And then—he freezes. His body locks up, his shoulders squared and rigid.
My pulse slams in my ears. “What?”
He doesn’t answer. Just slowly reaches out—and picks something up from my nightstand. It’s a single black rose. Tied with a satin ribbon.
“Did you leave this here?”
My stomach turns to ice as I shake my head. No, I didn’t put that there.
I take a step back, my knees nearly buckling. “What the—”
My father turns, his face like stone. “Go pack a bag. Now.”
“I—what? Where am I going?”
His jaw clenches. “To Viktor Maksimov.”
The name slams into me like a fist to the chest.
Viktor Maksimov.
Rich. Older. Powerful. Ruthless. And fucking beautiful.
A man who owns everything he touches.
And God help me, I’ve noticed him.
I’ve only met him once. But once was enough. Viktor Maksimov is the kind of man you don’t forget.
Tall—at least six feet, broad, thick muscle wrapped in crisp designer suit. Not the tailored kind that makes men look polished—but the kind that barely contains raw power.
A strong, chiseled jaw, dusted with dark scruff, like he’s too busy running his empire to bother shaving.
His hair—thick, dark, streaked with silver at the temples.
His mouth—hard, unsmiling, and still managing to hold a sensual fullness.
But it’s his eyes that stole the air from my lungs, the only time we met. They burned straight through me. Cold, sharp blue. Not bright, not clear—dark, deep, endless, like the part of the ocean where ships disappear.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. He’s my father’s boss. And even worse, he’s Bratva. A man my father works for—managing the financial side of his empire, cleaning money, keeping the books untouchable.
I know just enough to understand that Viktor isn’t a man people defy.
He barely looked at me. Men like him don’t look at women like me.
“Dad,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You don’t ask men like Viktor Maksimov for favors.”
His eyes burn into me. “This isn’t a favor, . This is for your safety.”
I swallow hard, my hands curling into fists.
The texts. The open door. And now, the fucking rose.
Months of feeling a presence.
My father grips my shoulders, his expression grim. “Baby, listen to me.” His voice lowers, turning rough, like he doesn’t want to say what comes next. “If someone is bold enough to leave evidence in your home, this isn’t just some random creep.” His fingers tighten. “This is someone dangerous, someone I can’t handle alone.”
That shakes me. My father is not a weak man. He’s handled himself in situations that would send most men running. But now, he looks… powerless.
“I need you to trust me,” he murmurs. “Viktor can protect you in a way I can’t.”
The words settle heavy in my gut.
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to walk into that man’s world.
But I can’t stay here. So I grab my bag.