Chapter 10 – Lukyan
It’s been a week since I started trying to trace Karl, and I keep hitting dead ends.
Every lead folds in on itself. Every name I pull up leads to another name that leads nowhere. It’s the kind of work that should have my full attention.
I have my laptop open in front of me, screens filled with data I normally don’t miss.
But I miss everything right now.
Because I can’t concentrate.
All I can think about is Sofia.
She’s been burning through my mind since I had her pinned to that mattress.
Crossing that line is rapidly becoming one of the biggest regrets of my life, if only because I haven’t been able to get the taste of her out of my mouth since.
It’s entirely consuming. I want more of her.
I want to rip that quiet composure away again and see how much louder she can scream my name.
But seeing the way she panicked and fled the room afterward, I’m grounded by reality. I don’t know how to push forward without fracturing whatever fragile arrangement we have left. So, I’ve forced myself to give her space. I’ve let her be.
But it’s a losing battle. She’s entirely in my head, and the constant, heavy ache in my cock is a relentless reminder of exactly what I’m depriving myself of.
But I keep seeing the way she looked at me. The way she didn’t run until she did. The way she stayed just long enough for me to see that she was affected too, even if she’d never admit it.
And that’s the problem.
Because Sofia reacts to me in ways she clearly doesn’t understand. And I react to her in ways I don’t particularly like. I exhale slowly and force my attention back to the screen.
Karl.
Focus.
Find Karl.
Finish this.
That’s what I should be doing. Instead, my thoughts drift again.
To her voice when she gets irritated.
To the way she looks at me like she’s trying to decide whether I’m a threat or something worse.
Something she might not be able to control.
I shut the thought down immediately.
I’ve dealt with men who became distracted before.
It never ends well.
Especially not in my position.
I drag a hand through my hair and stare at the data again, forcing myself to read line by line.
Nothing sticks.
I groan under my breath and lean forward, trying again.
“Focus,” I mutter to myself.
The word feels useless.
Because even as I say it, I already know where my attention is going to drift back to.
Sofia.
I let out a slow breath and push back from the desk, chair scraping against the floor.
This is a problem. Not her. Me. Because I don’t lose focus. I don’t get pulled off course. And I definitely don’t let a situation I’m supposed to control start controlling me instead.
Yet here I am. Thinking about a woman who’s currently sitting somewhere in this house, probably reading, probably pretending she isn’t aware of me at all. A woman who ran from me like I’d done something unforgivable.
And still somehow occupies more space in my head than anything else I’m supposed to care about right now.
I stare at the screen again.
Karl’s file blurs slightly at the edges.
I close it with a sharp click.
Silence fills the office.
For a moment, I just sit there.
Then I lean back, staring at the ceiling.
This is getting out of hand.
Not because I don’t understand what I’m feeling, but because I understand it enough to know I should’ve already stopped it.
And I haven’t.
Just as I push myself up from the chair, the door opens, and Ben walks in. He doesn’t bother with greetings. That alone makes my attention sharpen. In his hand is a tablet. His frown is already in place.
“You have to see this,” he says, crossing the room immediately.
I take the device from him, suspicion already building in my chest. “What is it?”
“The background pull on Sofia that you requested,” he replies. “The full file just came through.”
My grip tightens slightly on the tablet. I lower myself back into the chair and start reading. At first, it’s exactly what I expected.
Basic background. Education. Residence history. Family ties. Things I already know.
Then I reach the section on her father.
And everything inside me goes still. Andrei Morozov. Also known as Creed. The name hits me square in my chest.
Creed. The person whose death sixteen years ago turned our financial systems upside down.
The man who had operated like a ghost in the financial underworld.
Clean on paper. Invisible in practice. He didn’t just move money but also designed the systems others used to move it without ever being traced.
We never asked questions. That was the agreement. He kept our finances secure. We stayed out of his personal life.
He was efficient. Precise. Untouchable.
And then he died. And like most ghost men like him, he left behind more questions than answers.
I read the line again.
And again.
Creed is Sofia’s father.
And his real name is Andrei Morozov.
The room feels quieter than it did a moment ago.
Ben watches me carefully now, like he’s waiting for the reaction to turn into something useful.
I force myself to keep reading.
The report continues.
Details of Creed’s operations. His involvement in developing our layered financial systems. Offshore structures. Encryption pathways. Code frameworks designed to move and hide assets across jurisdictions without leaving a trace.
And then another detail settles into place. A detail that makes the back of my neck tighten.
Creed didn’t just exist in the same world I’m operating in. He helped build parts of it. Which means Sofia isn’t just a political or personal complication. She’s a direct link to something much larger than I initially believed.
I glance up at Ben. “Are you certain this is accurate?”
He nods once. “Triple verified.”
Silence stretches between us.
My thoughts are no longer on Sofia alone.
They shift. Reorganize. Recalculate everything.
Karl’s disappearance stops looking like an isolated problem and starts looking like a calculated move.
If Creed was involved in systems like this, then Sofia might not just be a distraction in my house.
She might be the key to everything I’ve been trying to find.
I close the file slowly, my thoughts moving faster than my hands.
Karl never had the code. The bastard orchestrated this entire situation, knowing exactly how I would react.
He dangled a problem in front of me. Created a threat. Created urgency. Then delivered Sofia directly into my house. Into my reach. Into my fucking bed. A cold laugh escapes me.
“Son of a bitch.”
Ben watches me from across the desk. “You figured something out.”
“Yeah.” I drop the tablet onto the desk. The pieces are finally aligning. “The marriage was never the price.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
I lean back in my chair. “He wanted me close to Sofia.”
Understanding dawns on Ben’s face.
I continue, “He knew I’d do whatever was necessary to get the code.”
“Which meant keeping Sofia close.”
“Exactly.”
Karl has always preferred manipulation over confrontation.
This is exactly the kind of move he’d make. Use the daughter. Use the husband. Use everybody. Then sit back while they do the work for him.
The bastard played both Sofia and the Rusnaks.
And for the first time since this whole mess started, I can see the board clearly.
Unfortunately, clarity creates another problem.
A much bigger one.
Because under normal circumstances, this would be easy. Painfully easy.
Manipulate Sofia. Gain her trust. Find the code. Problem solved.
I’ve done worse things for far less important reasons. But the thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Because things are different now. I don’t want them to be. But they are. And denying it would be pointless.
I know Sofia. At least enough to know how she’ll react. She doesn’t know she has the code. I’m almost certain of that.
No. This is something else. Something buried. Something Creed left behind without telling her.
Which means if I suddenly sit her down and start asking questions, she’ll reach the obvious conclusion. That I married her for information. That everything between us was a lie.
The trust between us is fragile enough already.
That conversation would destroy it.
“Do you think she really has it?” Ben asks.
I look toward the bookshelves lining the office wall.
My mind immediately flashes to Sofia’s library. To the boxes she’d unpacked. To the way she’d arranged those books.
My jaw tightens. “I do.”
Ben folds his arms. “Why?”
“Because I’ve seen her organize books.”
His expression immediately turns skeptical.
I ignore it.
“Creed hid information inside books.”
Now Ben is listening.
“He used patterns. Systems. Layered indexing. Everything looked random until you knew what you were looking at.”
I think back to Sofia kneeling on the library floor. Stacking books. Moving them around. Rearranging them three separate times.
At the time, it looked harmless. Now it looks deliberate. Not deliberate on her part. Instinctive. Like muscle memory. Like something she’d grown up seeing her father do. Something she’d copied without ever understanding why.
“I think the code is there,” I say quietly. “She even said her father taught her when I asked.”
Ben’s eyes narrow. “And Sofia doesn’t know?”
“No.”
Ben is silent for several moments.
Then he asks the question I’ve been avoiding.
“So, what now?”
I lean back in my chair.
Good question.
Because every option in front of me is terrible.
“If you ask her directly,” Ben says carefully, “she’ll figure it out.”
“Yes.”
“She’ll think you married her because of the code.”
“Yes.”
A pause. Then Ben gives me a look. “Which is true.”
I slowly raise my eyes toward him.
Ben realizes his mistake. Either way, he doesn’t look particularly sorry.
“Careful.”
A grin tugs at his mouth. “I’m just saying.”
I continue staring.
“Technically speaking, you did marry her because of this.”
“Things are different now,” I answer.
His eyes narrow, a dangerous kind of amusement appearing there. “Things are different now?”
I say nothing, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching his own conclusions.
“Oh… I called it.”
“Shut up. Get out.”
He wisely decides not to push his luck any further.
With one final look of disbelief, he heads toward the door.
Before leaving, he pauses. “You know, eventually, you’re going to have to tell her.”
The amusement is gone now. Only seriousness remains. Because we both know he’s right.
I don’t answer.
Ben studies me for another second before finally nodding and leaving the office.
The door closes behind him.
Silence returns.
I stare at the tablet still sitting on my desk. At Sofia’s file. At Creed’s secrets. At the mess Karl created.
I realize that since this whole situation began, the code isn’t what worries me.
It’s Sofia.
Because sooner or later, she’s going to learn the truth.
And I have a feeling that when she does, she won’t care why I stayed.
She’ll only remember why I came.
I stare at the closed office door long after Ben leaves.
His last words continue echoing in my head.
Eventually, you’re going to have to tell her.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
The problem isn’t the truth itself.
It’s what the truth will mean once Sofia hears it.
I lean back in my chair and rub a hand across my jaw.
A few weeks ago, this wouldn’t have bothered me.
I would have done what needed to be done.
The problem is that somewhere along the way, Sofia stopped feeling like a problem to solve.
I don’t know exactly when it happened.
Maybe the day she arrived.
Maybe when she unpacked that ridiculous box of books and treated them like treasure.
Maybe when she looked at me with genuine concern after I got her and she had to bandage my hands.
Or maybe it happened so gradually that I never noticed until now.
Whatever the reason, the result is the same.
I care what happens to her.
The realization settles heavily in my chest.
I stand and walk toward the window overlooking the grounds.
Guards move through the property below.
Patrol routes. Security positions. Controlled. Protected. Safe.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
The truth is, the moment I connected Sofia to Creed, the entire situation changed.
Before today, she was simply Sofia.
Now she’s potentially the only living link to one of the most valuable pieces of information circulating through our world.
And if I’ve figured that out, eventually someone else will too.
The thought immediately puts me on edge.
Because, unlike Sofia, I understand exactly what people are willing to do for information.
I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by men who would kill for less.
Kidnap.
Torture.
Disappear someone without hesitation.
The code isn’t valuable; it’s priceless.
Which means Sofia isn’t safe. Not really. Not anymore.
My jaw tightens.
She probably has no idea.
Right now, she’s likely upstairs reading one of her novels, completely unaware that her father’s secrets may have painted a target on her back. A target she didn’t ask for. A target she doesn’t even know exists.
And suddenly, the idea of anyone using her makes something ugly stir inside me. Protective. Possessive. Dangerous.
I don’t like it.
Mostly because I recognize it immediately.
I’ve felt it before. Not often. But enough to know where it leads.
The difference is that this time, it isn’t directed toward family. Or business. Or the Rusnaks.
It’s directed toward Sofia.
I exhale slowly.
This is exactly why emotions complicate things.
Logic is simple. Logic says I should recover the code as quickly as possible. Logic says Sofia is the key. Logic says the objective hasn’t changed.
But every instinct I have is pushing in another direction.
Because every path that gets me closer to the code risks hurting her. Every question I ask. Every secret I uncover. Every lie that eventually comes to light.
All of it leads back to the same person.
Sofia.
And for the first time, I find myself wondering whether finding the code is worth the cost.
A month ago, I would have laughed at that question.
Now I can’t.
Because the answer isn’t as obvious as it should be.
I stare out across the property.
The sun is beginning to set beyond the trees, painting long shadows across the grounds.
Somewhere inside this house is a woman who still believes our marriage happened for one reason.
And someday she’s going to discover it happened for another.
When that day comes, she’ll have every right to hate me.
The worst part is that she won’t be wrong.
I close my eyes briefly.
Ben is right.
Eventually, I’ll have to tell her the truth.
The problem is that every day I wait, the lie gets bigger. And every day I spend around Sofia, it becomes harder to convince myself that I married her for the code.