Chapter 5
ALINA
Istare out the window as the driver gets closer to my apartment.
When Andrei told me he was going to call me a car, I thought he meant an Uber.
I didn’t expect to leave the hotel and see a luxury town car waiting for me.
I guess I should have, though. Andrei Markov wouldn’t exactly be taking taxis, would he?
We’re only a mile from my place when I hear the driver take a call.
I can’t tell what he’s saying, but after he hangs up, he gets into the left lane.
The motion is subtle enough that I almost miss it.
Then, we’re making a U-turn and going in the opposite direction.
My stomach tightens before my brain fully catches up.
I sit up slowly, every movement exaggerated by the dull throb behind my eyes.
The whiskey warmth is still there, but it’s thinning out now, leaving a hollow ache in its place.
My mouth feels dry. My head feels heavy.
The night presses in on me all at once, the adrenaline finally loosening its grip.
We’re headed back in the direction we came.
“Hey,” I say, more confused than angry at first. “You missed the turn to my apartment.”
He doesn’t respond to me. He doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken.
My fingers curl into the seat beneath me, trying to ground myself. I shouldn’t have gotten into a car with a stranger. I should have driven myself. I’m not usually this stupid. If I get murdered, it’s totally Kostya’s fault.
“I’m serious,” I say, sharper now. “Where are we going?”
The driver’s refusal to meet my eyes sends a ripple of unease through me. I’ve worked enough events, been around enough men with money and power, to know when silence is being used deliberately. He’s not answering me on purpose.
The hotel starts to come back into view, and I feel a strange mix of confusion and relief. At least I can get out here. I’ll open the door as quickly as possible and roll out if I have to. I can run back to the party and get help.
I’m planning my escape when the driver curves around the hotel, forgoing the front entrance entirely. Alarm bells start going off in my head.
“Hey,” I say, my voice hoarse. “What are we doing?”
It’s useless, of course. He still isn’t answering. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror for half a second before pulling around to a back entrance. It’s much darker than the front, and there are far fewer people around.
What the hell is going on?
“Excuse me,” I say more sharply. “You just picked me up from here. You’re supposed to be taking me home.”
Of course, he says nothing to this. He just puts the car in park and keeps the doors locked. My chest tightens. The anger flares first, sharp and immediate, cutting through the fog in my head.
“Are you serious right now?” I demand. “Because I am not in the mood for this.”
Another man emerges out of the side entrance, big and imposing. He comes right up to the driver’s side door, and the driver gets out, still not unlocking my door. What the fuck?
I try my door, but it’s no use. There isn’t a manual lock, there’s no way for me to let myself out. I’m a prisoner in this car, and completely at their mercy.
The two men speak for a second before coming to my door. I’m ready to fight if I have to, though I’d really prefer not to. The only weapon I could possibly use is my shoe. I don’t even have my purse, I realize belatedly, and I threw my phone at Kostya. I am truly and royally screwed here.
The door lock clicks and the driver opens it.
“We apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Kuznetsova,” he says in a very thick Russian accent. “We’ve been asked to escort you back to Mr. Markov’s suite.”
“No,” I say tightly. “He made it very clear he didn’t want me there. I’m not going back. Take me home.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t an option,” says the other man forcefully. “You will come with us now. It’s a matter of safety.”
I laugh, short and brittle. “Whose safety?” I hiss. “Because I was plenty safe before. Take me home.”
Neither man budges, they just stare at me expectantly, patiently.
“Ms. Kuznetsova,” says the larger man. “You can come with us willingly, or we can carry you up kicking and screaming. The choice is yours.”
Despite everything in me screaming not to go with them, my legs are already moving.
I’m too tired to fight properly, too off-balance to make a scene in a dark parking lot with men who clearly do not care about my comfort.
I step out of the car and immediately regret it when the ground seems to tilt beneath me.
One of them steadies me with a light grip on my elbow.
“I don’t need help,” I mutter.
He releases me immediately.
We take the service elevator this time, a dark and gritty box without any of the comforts of the guest elevator. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears.
I try again. “Is this about Kostya?” I ask. “Because if he’s throwing some kind of tantrum right now, that is not my problem anymore.”
No one answers.
The elevator doors open onto Andrei’s familiar hallway. My anger sharpens into something hotter and more dangerous.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I say under my breath.
They escort me to the same suite I left less than an hour ago. The door opens, and I step inside, already braced to fight him. How dare he demand me back here? I’m not one of his men or an asset. He doesn’t get to just order me around.
Andrei is standing near the desk, jacket on, phone in his hand. He looks up when I enter, and for half a second, something unreadable flickers across his face. I can’t tell if it’s relief, annoyance, or some mixture of the two.
“Seriously?” I demand before anyone can say anything else. “Who the hell do you think you are, dragging me back here?”
The guards retreat, closing the door behind them. The click echoes in the room.
“I didn’t drag you,” Andrei says evenly. “I had to bring you back for security reasons.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I ask. “Because it definitely doesn’t.”
“The important thing is, you’re safe now,” he replies patiently, despite my emotional outburst.
“I was plenty safe when I left,” I shoot back. “You made that very clear.”
His jaw tightens slightly. “Unfortunately, there were some elements we were not aware of at the time. After you left, it became clear that it was better to bring you under my protection.”
I throw my hands up. What the hell does that even mean? My head is pounding and my feet are aching and none of what he’s saying makes sense. One thought is very clear to me, though.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I nearly screech.
“Yes,” he says, his patience thinning. “I do.”
The words feel like a slap across the face. Who the hell does he think he is?
I stare at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”
“This isn’t a discussion,” he continues. “I don’t have time for questions. We’re going to have to move you to a safer location soon, so I need you to let me focus on the arrangements.”
“No,” I say, my voice shaking now. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you answer my questions.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then exhales sharply and rakes a hand through his hair.
“From what I can understand, your fiancé is not a very good man,” he says.
I laugh callously. “No shit, that was the whole reason—”
“Not just the cheating,” he says gravely, cutting me off. “He has Bratva connections. There was a… situation.”
“What?” I ask, genuinely confused now.
“Men who are connected to him were sweeping the hotel after you left,” Andrei clarifies. “There was obviously a situation at hand, and your disappearance complicated their plans for the evening.”
My stomach drops. None of this makes any sense. I have to sit back down on the couch I only recently vacated.
“What kind of situation?” I ask in a small voice.
His eyes harden. “That is not your concern.”
“It’s very much my concern,” I snap. “If they’re looking for me, I deserve to know why!”
He steps closer, looming without trying to. “Your ex-fiancé is clearly a very dangerous man,” he says darkly. “With ties to some dangerous people. His actions this evening aside, I don’t think tonight was simply planned as an engagement party.”
I swallow hard, trying to make sense of his words and the jumble of thoughts circling my head. It’s all so ominous and vague.
“Kostya wouldn’t hurt me,” I say weakly. “Not like that. He’s a cheating asshole but he wouldn’t physically harm me.”
Andrei’s expression makes it clear what he thinks of that.
“We can’t be too careful.” He shrugs. “And because of your father, I can’t allow that risk.”
My head snaps up. “My father?” I ask in surprise. “What does he have to do with this?”
He studies me carefully now, like he’s deciding how much damage the truth is about to do.
“I recognized your last name when you said it in the elevator,” he says. “Your father works for me, Alina.”
The room starts to tilt, and I grab on to the couch just to gain some kind of balance. None of this makes any sense. Kostya being in the Bratva is one thing, but my father?
“No,” I say immediately. “That’s not possible. He’s a dock worker.”
The words sit there between us, heavy and unreal. My father is not a criminal.
He’s a man who wakes up before dawn and comes home with cracked hands and a stiff back. He’s a man who packs his lunch every morning and complains about the price of groceries. He’s the man who cried quietly at my mother’s funeral and never dated again. There’s no way he’s caught up in this.
Except suddenly, pieces start sliding into place whether I want them to or not.
He’s never, not once, allowed me to come down to visit him at the docks.
There have been many nights, both in high school and college, where he would tell me not to go out.
I’d try to argue, but he’d be very firm, saying he had a feeling things weren’t safe for me.
There are wads of cash hidden all over our house in random places because he “doesn’t trust banks. ”
Then there’s Kostya. He introduced me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, the room spinning gently around me.
“My dad introduced me to Kostya,” I say, trying to make my brain catch up with the truth. Andrei doesn’t interrupt me. “That wasn’t coincidence, was it?”
“Probably not,” he replies simply.
Betrayal stabs me in the chest. I think of every time my father told me he wanted me to be safe with a good man. He was so relieved to see me settled and married. I remember how much he encouraged a match between Kostya and me, always gently encouraging me to give him a shot when I wasn’t sure.
“He didn’t tell me,” I whisper.
“He was protecting you,” Andrei says.
“By lying to me?”
“By keeping you out of it,” he corrects.
I laugh weakly. “Well, that’s worked out well for him.”
Silence stretches between us again, thicker this time. My hands start to shake. I tuck them beneath my thighs, pressing down hard, grounding myself in the physical reality of the couch, the room, the man standing in front of me.
“My dad always told me he was a dock worker,” I say, my voice fading until it’s almost impossible for me to even hear myself. “That he unloaded ships and goods.”
“None of that was a lie,” Andrei says softly. “He just didn’t want you to know about the criminal element.”
The words echo in my head, bouncing around without settling.
“This is all too much,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says. “But we’re going to figure this out. The first thing is making you safe.”
“You’re offering protection,” I say slowly. “Because of my dad.”
“Yes,” he answers. “He’s my responsibility, and therefore you’re my responsibility.”
The anger drains out of me all at once, leaving something hollow and shaky behind.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I say.
“That’s understandable,” Andrei replies. “You don’t have to understand everything tonight.”
“I don’t want to be part of this,” I say weakly.
“You already are, unfortunately,” he says. “You just didn’t know it. Now you do. Knowledge is power.”
The fight drains out of me all at once, leaving me hollowed out and raw. I don’t have the energy to be angry anymore. I don’t have the strength to demand explanations or insist on autonomy. Everything hurts, from my temples to my chest to the place deep in my gut where humiliation lives.
I trusted Kostya.
I trusted my father.
Somehow, I trusted Andrei, too, if only because he was straight with me from the start. I knew exactly who he was when I saw him on that elevator. He’s never had any reason to lie to me. Not even now.
I press my fingers to my forehead, breathing slowly, trying to keep myself from tipping into something ugly and hysterical. The world feels unreal, like I’m watching it through thick glass.
I can deal with this tomorrow, I tell myself. I can scream and cry and demand answers when I’m sober and rested. Right now, I just need the world to stop spinning.
“I need some water and aspirin,” I nearly groan. “And sleep.”
He nods once. “You’ll get all three.”
I press my palms into my eyes, fighting tears. “Maybe when I wake up, this will all be a nightmare.”
Andrei chuckles lightly, and I know what he’s thinking. Nothing will be different when I wake up. A girl can dream, though.