Chapter 42
Alexei
Ican’t stop pacing the heavy rug, my steps falling in a frantic, unyielding rhythm—twelve to the window, twelve back to the fireplace, again and again—while desperation claws tighter in my chest with every lap.
The guards stand like statues against the walls, none of them foolish enough to speak a word in this suffocating silence.
"Where is she?" I demand.
Viktor stands near the doorway, phone pressed tightly to his ear, desperately trying to reach her for three agonizing hours—yet every single call has gone straight to voicemail.
I call his name and he slowly lowers the device.
“Pull up the tracking from her bracelet,” I tell him, my voice edged with panic.
His fingers move across the screen, then he suddenly hesitates, his expression dropping.
“The signal died the moment she walked into the university bathroom,” he says, voice thick with frustration. “The tracker had her location locked perfectly right up until our men arrived… but she was already gone. Completely gone.”
My boots freeze on the carpet. She must have tinkered with the bracelet and left a fake location behind so she could slip away while we weren’t looking.
Viktor speaks up, his voice careful. “We checked every security camera in the surrounding blocks. The signal was clean right up until she walked into that university bathroom. After that it just… died. Our men got there as fast as they could, but she was already gone.”
I grab the heavy crystal decanter from the side table and hurl it straight at the wall. Whiskey and shattered glass spray across the expensive wallpaper. Not one guard flinches—they’ve all seen me do far worse.
“Find her,” I order. “Right now, get every man we have.”
Viktor hesitates. “They’re trying, but—”
I turn on him. “Then look harder. I don’t care what it takes. Tear apart every street, every camera feed, every contact we have in this city. She does not get to disappear on me. Bring her back.”
My pacing starts all over again. My hands refuse to stay still as I run them through my hair and rub my exhausted face.
My mind is spinning with terrible scenarios about rival men throwing her into a dark van and locking her away, fuck what if she chipped a nail, or worse what if they hurt the baby.
My phone sits on the table. I already dialed her number twice and got nothing. I won’t call again. One more ring to that voicemail and I’ll put my fist straight through the wall, and I need my hands in one piece for what’s coming next.
The heavy front door suddenly swings open, the familiar squeak of the hinge cutting through the silence, followed by hesitant footsteps in the hallway—and I’m already sprinting toward the sound before I’ve even thought about it.
Zoya steps around the corner and I crash into her, arms locking around her waist. I lift her off the floor and crush her to my chest, the momentum sending us stumbling backward. I plant my boot to keep us upright. She gasps against my shoulder but I’m too relieved to care.
I bury my face deep into her neck to breathe in her familiar scent. My hands shake uncontrollably against her spine.
"Alexei?" she asks softly, her voice muffled by my shirt. "Are you alright? Are you actually crying?"
I pull back enough to hold her at arm's length. I quickly scan her face and check her clothes for any signs of injury or struggle. My hands immediately move downward to cup the small bump of her stomach. I press my palms gently against her.
"Is the baby safe?" I ask frantically. "Did you feel any pain while you were out there?"
"Alexei, we are perfectly fine," she reassures me.
"You cannot possibly know that for sure," I argue. "You were out there doing who knows what."
She covers my hands with hers. "I am unharmed, and the baby is safe. I promise you."
I leave my hand resting against her belly. I try to feel for movement even though I know it is much too early in the pregnancy. My thumb gently strokes the curve of her stomach.
"You can’t keep doing this to us," I whisper. "You are carrying our child, Zoya."
"I know," she replies quietly. "I’m so sorry."
I let out a shaky breath and pull her into a much gentler hug. "Why did you do that?" My voice breaks on the words. "Why did you mess with the security bracelet? I had no idea where you were or if someone had taken you."
She offers a sad smile and brings both of her hands up to my face. Her palms feel freezing cold against my flushed skin. "Hey, please look at me," she says softly, tracing my cheekbones with her thumbs. "I’m truly sorry. I just needed to investigate a situation."
I curse out loud and pull away from her touch.
I turn in a short circle before facing her again.
"Not this again," I groan. "Why do you never listen to my warnings?
This is not a game, my darling. These people are incredibly ruthless.
They will kill anyone without a second thought.
" I grab her shoulders to make sure she understands.
"Why do you keep risking your safety? You make me worry so much that I can’t even think straight. "
"Alexei, please listen…"
"I have terrible enemies who would gladly hurt you just to punish me," I interrupt. "You are the only good thing I have left in this world. I am begging you to stop engaging in these dangerous activities before you get yourself killed."
I drop to my knees in front of her and the entire room goes silent.
I can feel the discomfort radiating from the guards behind me—the feared boss of Moscow on his knees, begging a woman for mercy in front of his soldiers.
I don’t care what they think, all I care about is my wife not sending me to an early grave with a heart attack.
"Please, Zoya," I plead. "Promise me."
She stares down at me in shock before glancing past my shoulder. The guards lining the walls are staring awkwardly at the floor and the ceiling to avoid watching this private moment. She looks back down into my eyes.
"Fine, I promise," she whispers. "But there is something important I need to tell you."
"What is it?" I ask while remaining on my knees.
"I went to the secret meeting place where the Georgians gather."
My heart stops in my chest before restarting with a painful thud. I jump to my feet before my brain even registers the movement. My hands are all over her again. I spin her around to check her arms and back for hidden injuries. My hand instantly returns to rest over her belly.
"Did anyone hurt you?" I demand in a panic. "Did any of those monsters put their hands on you?"
"I am unhurt," she says firmly. She catches my frantic hands and holds them still. "I’m not a weak person, Alexei. The baby is okay."
"Did anybody figure out you were hiding there?"
"No."
I let out a massive breath. All the exhausting tension I carried for the last four hours leaves my body in a rush. I have to lean against the hallway wall just to stay upright. "Why are you putting me through this?" I ask weakly.
"I’m sorry, but I needed to find out their plans for you," she explains. "I just wanted to help you succeed."
"If you truly want to help me, you need to stay safely inside this house," I tell her.
"You could create fun videos to pass the time.
I would gladly pay you a fortune just to watch you read a dictionary or sing a song.
I simply want you safe." I cup her soft face in my hands.
"I do not need your assistance on the battlefield.
My job is to handle the violence. When I return home, I only want to find my family safe and far away from my dark world so please swear to me that you will never do this again. "
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay, I swear. But you need to know that their leader plans to attack us within a week. He is getting extra help from an Arab gang."
I stare at her serious expression and let out a tired smile. "I already knew that information."
She blinks in surprise.
"The other gang is receiving a nasty surprise from us tomorrow anyway," I explain.
"I’m never worried about winning a war. My only fear is losing the woman I love in the crossfire.
" I gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
"So from now on, please stop sneaking past my security team.
Stop messing with your tracker. I will honestly not survive the stress if this happens again.
You are helpful just by being my wife and brightening my mornings.
If you need me to kneel again to prove my point, I will gladly do it. "
"Alright," she agrees softly. "I’ll behave from now on."
"Good. I want you to go upstairs and take a warm bath," I instruct. "I’ll give you a proper massage afterward."
"I really don’t need a massage right now," she argues mildly.
"I need to give you one because focusing on you will help calm my nerves."
She studies my exhausted face before nodding in agreement. She turns around and heads up the elevator.
I turn my attention back to the guards and call for Ruslan.
He steps forward at once. “Tomorrow morning, i want you to send a violent message to our enemies. Make sure every single one of their contacts in Moscow receives a brutal reminder of exactly who controls this city.” He nods in understanding.
I straighten my wrinkled jacket, draw a slow breath, and follow my wife upstairs.
I can hear Zoya humming softly inside the bathroom, a sweet, absent sound from someone who believes she’s alone.
I prepare the bedroom, pulling the expensive oils from the wooden cabinet and rubbing the bottles between my palms to warm the liquid before laying thick towels across the mattress.
A moment later the bathroom door clicks open.
Warm steam drifts out as Zoya steps into the bedroom, her hair dried but her body wrapped only in a loose towel.
She pauses when she sees the careful setup on the bed.
“This looks incredibly professional,” she teases as she walks over to the mattress and lies down on her back. She carefully pulls the towel up over her chest and tucks the edges in to secure it.
I stare at the unnecessary fabric. “What are you even trying to hide from me?”
“I am protecting my dignity,” she jokes.
I grab the towel, rip it off her body, and toss it across the room. “You don’t need to hide anything in this room.”
“Alexei!” she gasps in surprise.
"I’m going to put oil everywhere, and that fabric is simply in the way," I explain.
I lean over her body to press a soft kiss directly to her stomach, leaving another one right next to it before letting my lips trail slowly across the small bump.
Moving higher, I kiss the sensitive skin between her breasts, then take my time with each of her nipples, my mouth gentle and tender against her skin. She shivers happily beneath my touch.
I move further up to press my lips against her collarbone and the side of her neck, tracing her jawline with my mouth before finally capturing her lips in a very slow and deep kiss. I take my time tasting her. When I finally pull away to look at her, her eyes are soft and hazy with desire.
"Now you need to stay still," I whisper.
I pour the scented oil into my palms and rub my hands together to warm the liquid. I reach out to find the tight muscles knotted up in her shoulders, using my thumbs to work out the heavy tension with slow circles and deep pressure.
She groans happily against the sheets. "Oh, my God!”
"Does that feel good?"
“Why did I fight you on this?” she breathes out. “This feels so good. You’re in the wrong line of work—you should be giving massages, not running the Bratva.”
"So you want me to surrender my entire empire just to rub oil on you full time?" I tease her.
“Yes. I really don’t think that would be a bad idea at all.”
I chuckle quietly and slide my hands down to massage her arms and sides, careful when I brush over her ribs and move toward her stomach. I’m gentle here, smoothing the warm oil over the small swell of her belly in slow, tender circles.
I lean down and press my lips to the bump. “Okay kid, emergency family meeting. Your mother has lost her damn mind. I need you to start kicking—preferably when she’s about to do something stupid. Think of it as an early warning system. Can you do that for Papa?”
“Alexei, the baby is the size of a plum and cannot hear you.”
“Plums have ears.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, I’m grasping at straws here, Zoya. You’re giving me a heart attack and I’m trying to recruit our fetus as my ally.” I look back at her stomach. “Please, kid. I’m begging you. Team up with me. I’ll buy you a pony.”
“Stop bribing our unborn child.” she says laughing.
Her laughter sounds like a line from my favorite song.
I work the warm oil down her hips and thighs, kneading the tension from her calves until she falls quiet. The soft sounds of pleasure she makes test every ounce of my concentration.
“I really am sorry,” she whispers after a long silence. “I promise this is the last time I’ll get involved with those men. I just… I hate feeling useless, like some trophy wife sitting around waiting.”
“I know,” I murmur, leaning down to press my lips to her forehead.
“Though I need you to understand—there’s nothing wrong with being a trophy wife when you’re the only trophy I’ve ever wanted.
” I linger there for a few seconds before pulling back with a soft smile.
“We’re done with this conversation. You need to rest.”
Her head turns to follow me as I move away from the bed. “Where are you going?”
“I just want to take a quick shower,” I say. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” she murmurs sleepily.
I step into the bathroom and turn the water as hot as it will go.
I scrub fast, washing away the sweat and grime of the day, trying to wash away the fear still clinging to my bones.
The image of her tracking signal disappearing while I tore Moscow apart looking for her—that will haunt me for a long time.
I dry off quickly and head back to the bedroom.
She’s still awake, lying flat on her back under the covers, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I ask softly.
She lifts the edge of the blanket to invite me inside. "I want to cuddle with you."
I raise an eyebrow. “You only want to cuddle because you’re trying to get back in my good graces.”
“That’s not true,” she protests. “I just want you to hold me. Today was terrifying.”
“I know. You were shaking when you got home.”
I slip into bed and pull her close. We’re both naked beneath the sheets. I tuck her back against my chest, my arm wrapping around her waist so my hand settles over her belly. She weaves her legs between mine and sinks into me, then freezes.
“Your stuff is poking me.”
“Yours is poking me too.”
I press closer, hips flush against her back. She grinds her ass against me in response, the movement dragging my hand across her ass.