Chapter 3 – Sofia #3
He told me never to speak about him openly.
Never tell anyone who you’re related to.
Never attract attention.
I followed those rules for sixteen years.
So, who the hell is Karl Jonathan?
And what does he know about my father?
I force myself back into the present.
Back into the penthouse.
Back into the cold, gray eyes fixed on me.
“Like I said,” I reply carefully, “I don’t know any Karl Jonathan. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He nods once, like my answer changes nothing.
“That’s okay,” he says. “But you are surrounded by danger, Sofia. Marriage to the Rusnaks can offer protection you never imagined.”
I’m on my feet instantly again.
“Rusnaks?” I repeat sharply. “You’re a Rusnak?”
For the first time tonight, something cautious enters his expression.
“Sounds like you’re personally familiar with the Rusnaks.”
I laugh. Because this entire conversation feels insane.
“I should’ve known someone this delusional and controlling was a Rusnak,” I snap. “Do you all have written oaths to marry women by force or something?”
His eyes narrow. “What do you know about that?”
“Everything,” I fire back immediately. “My best friend is Valeria Petrova. Now Rusnak.”
Recognition flickers briefly across his face.
Then he nods once.
“Good,” he says calmly. “Then you already understand that we do not offer marriage lightly.”
“Oh, that’s supposed to comfort me?”
“In our world,” he continues over me, “danger exists everywhere. You’ve clearly been protected by your family for a long time, but that protection is no longer enough.” He takes one slow step closer. “You need more.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “And what’s in it for you?” I demand. “Why would you suddenly want to marry a woman you don’t know because you want to protect her?” My voice sharpens. “I may be naive, but I’m not stupid.”
For the first time since this conversation started, silence stretches between us differently. It frightens me more than anything else tonight.
He walks toward the massive windows overlooking Manhattan and stares out at the city for a moment, hands resting loosely behind his back.
Calm.
Controlled.
Like kidnapping women and proposing forced marriages is somehow part of his normal schedule.
I stay where I am, pulse still uneven beneath my skin.
The silence between us grows heavier.
I don’t interrupt it.
Mostly because I genuinely don’t know what to say anymore.
I know enough about the Rusnaks through Valeria to understand one terrifying thing:
I’m standing inside the world of people far more powerful than me.
And I have absolutely no idea how to survive it.
Finally, he speaks. “I’m entering into a business arrangement with Karl,” he says evenly. “And his only condition was that I protect you by marrying you.” He turns then, those cold gray eyes landing on me again. “And I will do my best to ensure that happens.”
Something inside me snaps.
“I’m not getting married to you,” I say. “Whatever your name is.”
“It’s Lukyan.”
“I don’t care,” I fire back. I turn sharply toward the door. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re not.”
The calmness in his voice stops me harder than shouting would have.
I slowly turn back toward him.
He hasn’t moved.
“We’re getting married,” he says. “And that’s final.”
My mouth opens instantly.
Absolutely not.
No.
Who even talks like that?
But before I can launch into another argument, he raises one hand.
“If you have family you’d like contacted for the wedding,” he says, “let me know.”
The words hit somewhere deep and immediate.
My response comes without hesitation: “No.”
His gaze sharpens slightly at my reaction.
I force myself to breathe slower.
Alec and his family have been everything to me since I was seven years old.
They gave me safety.
A home.
A second chance at something close to normal after that night destroyed everything.
And I will never drag them into this world.
Never.
That was the entire reason I left Moscow when Anton started hunting everyone connected to Valeria and the Petrovas. I refused to let danger settle anywhere near the people who protected me.
So no.
Absolutely not.
“Leave my family out of this,” I say quietly.
Something unreadable flickers across Lukyan’s face before he nods once. “Very well.”
That’s it.
No argument.
No pressure.
Which somehow unsettles me even more.
He steps toward the door.
“Please get comfortable,” he says. “A staff member will attend to your needs shortly.”
I stare at him.
Then I laugh.
Because this cannot possibly be real.
It sounds insane even inside my own head.
I don’t have my phone.
I don’t know where I am.
I’ve been kidnapped by a frighteningly handsome Russian man who talks like he’s signing business contracts instead of discussing human lives.
This has to be a nightmare.
I’m probably still asleep on my couch back home.
Any second now, I’ll wake up wrapped in my blanket with my back and neck aching.
But Lukyan reaches the door, opens it, and steps outside.
The door shuts softly behind him.
The sound echoes through the enormous penthouse.
And slowly, terrifyingly, it dawns on me that this may actually be my new reality.