The Enemy Protector (The Sokolov Empire #1)

Sofia

THREE YEARS EARLIER

I glance at the ID in my hand. It’s good. Really good. It has to work. If I get caught, I’m screwed. I’m breaking all the rules tonight. And I did not put on this little dress and these killer heels to get rejected from this club.

The line outside Noir wraps half a block. Lots of heels, bare shoulders, and outfits that leave very little to the imagination.

I love it—the debauchery, the freedom and the total anonymity.

I've slipped my security detail. Gregor thinks I'm asleep, and Pavel thinks I'm with Gregor. I had to go old school and use my pillows to create a form that I hope looks like a body under my blanket. I have until at least five a.m. before anyone notices. Maybe longer.

The bouncer barely glances at Mara Voss's face before he unclips the rope.

Me. I’m Mara Voss. Sofia Baranova is at home in bed like a good girl. Mara Voss is ready to have fun.

I make my way inside the club. Noir is everything I heard it was. Dark. Loud. Sultry.

The bass hits me in the chest before my eyes even adjust. It feels primal.

My eyes drink it all in. I’ve only seen this kind of thing in the movies.

The dance floor is bodies pressed and swaying to the music. There’s so much skin. It smells musky with the sharp scent of liquor mixing with the many sweet-smelling perfumes.

Booths line the perimeter, draped in black velvet, half-hidden behind gauze curtains.

This is exactly what I needed. What I’ve been craving in my very sheltered life. I want to take a walk on the wild side. Just one night. That’s all. Then it’s back to guards and strict rules.

I move toward the bar to get my first drink. I’ve had alcohol before, but usually a single glass of champagne under the watchful eye of my father or one of my guards.

Here, I’m invisible.

Just another young woman. Nobody's daughter. Nobody's heir. Nobody's liability.

I order something pink because I have no idea what I'm doing and the bartender doesn't ask questions.

It tastes like candy. I move to the edge of the dance floor sipping the fruity concoction with my eyes glued to the writhing bodies.

It goes down too easy. I order another, and it goes down even faster.

And now I feel like dancing. I find a space on the dance floor, and I stop thinking about everything.

I let go and let my body lead the way. The music moves through me and I barely notice the various men that take their turn dancing up against me. It’s not about the men tonight—it’s about me.

One of them is nice enough to get me another drink. But I’m not an idiot. I watch him take it from the bartender and put it directly into my hand.

An hour later, I’ve got a good buzz going. I dance alone with zero cares in the world. As alone as one can be packed onto a dance floor with fifty other people. The music shifts and slows and then picks back up.

The fourth drink is a mistake I recognize only in retrospect.

The guy that delivers it is handsome. Cocky in that sexy way. Dark hair, square jaw and a crooked smile that makes him look boyish and safe. He says something I can't hear over the music so I lean into him.

“You’re a good dancer,” I shout over the music.

He turns me around, pulling me back to his chest with one strong arm wrapped around my waist. I push my ass against his groin. He responds with a little hip thrust that excites me. I’ve never been with a man, but I want to. Not here and not now, but I like what he’s doing with his body.

“Let’s find somewhere quieter,” he says in a sexy baritone, his lips brushing against my ear.

Somewhere in my alcohol-soaked brain, a little voice tells me to stay on the dance floor.

But I've spent my whole life being told to be afraid of things. I've spent my whole life inside walls and motorcades. I don't want to be that girl tonight.

I let him lead me away from the dance floor. We’re moving down a dark hallway that looks like it leads to the bathrooms. But he’s not stopping at the bathrooms. He pushes open a door at the end of the hall, and I’m immediately hit with fresh air.

“That’s better, right?” he says.

“It was pretty stuffy in there,” I agree.

His hand slides down my back and squeezes my ass just a little too hard. I let out a nervous laugh and turn to face him.

That boyish smile is gone and replaced with something far more sinister. It feels off. He looks less handsome outside the dark club. The first hint of danger cuts through my excitement.

"I should actually get back. My friends will wonder where I’ve gone."

Lie. I’m alone. And I know that was my first mistake.

My second was letting him get me out here.

"Stay."

His hand closes around my wrist. It doesn’t hurt. He’s not squeezing, but the intention is clear. I pull my arm but he doesn’t let go.

"I said stay."

The smile is still on his face, but it feels wrong.

"Let go of me."

The door opens and for a brief second, I feel relief. Someone is coming. I’m not going to be alone.

“Damn,” the new guy says. His eyes rake over me.

“Where’s Jay?” the first guy asks.

“On his way.”

His friend is bigger. That's what I notice first. He looks at the first man and something passes between them. Something possessive in a way that screams danger.

Real fear slithers down my spine.

"Come on." The first man's grip shifts from my wrist to my arm. "Don't make it a thing."

"Let go," I say again. I try to sound fierce. These guys each have eighty pounds on me. I won’t overpower them.

But I can run. I’ll kick off my heels and run like hell. They’re bigger, but I’m faster.

I open my mouth to scream. The bigger one puts his hand over my mouth and stares into my eyes. "Do that and I'll make sure it hurts.”

The scream dies in my throat. I realize the danger too late.

We’re in a narrow alley that smells like garbage and pee. There's a dumpster to my left. A rusted fire escape above. A shitty light that does nothing to illuminate the area is mounted against the wall.

And that’s when I see him.

I’ve never felt terror, but this is it. I’m drunk, but I feel adrenaline pushing through the haze. I realize I’m shaking.

A third man is already there.

He's leaning against the brick wall like he's been waiting.

"Please." I hate that my voice sounds so small and weak. "Please, I just want to go home."

The first man pushes me against the wall. I feel the brick scrape the exposed skin at my shoulders. I scream and earn a punch to my face. The pain explodes across my cheek.

“I warned you,” the second man hisses.

I reach out and slap the man, my palm connecting with his flesh a second before both my arms are grabbed. I twist and buck, but it’s futile.

My head cracks back against the brick.

A sob escapes my throat.

Air brushes over my breasts. My dress has been torn away.

I scream again but it’s cut off with a large hand covering my mouth and my nose. My eyes widen. He’s going to suffocate me.

“I warned you, bitch,” he says roughly.

I shake my head, kicking and tugging at my arms that are being held by the other two men.

The man with his hand over my mouth reaches down and grabs my breast, violently squeezing.

I bite down on his hand. Hard enough to draw blood.

He rears back with a snarl and the half second of freedom I get is enough to scream.

It doesn't matter. Nobody hears me.

My father's voice is somewhere in the back of my mind. You are a Baranov, Sofia. You do not panic. But my father is not here. My bodyguards and their guns aren’t here.

I’m alone, and I have no chance.

I feel hands touching me everywhere. I twist violently and manage to wrench one arm free. I rake my nails across the first man's neck. I feel the blood warm and wet under my nails.

The beating starts again. My legs fail me, and I’m suddenly on the cold, wet ground.

Get up. I tell myself. Get up, get up, get up.

My body doesn’t listen.

My lungs seize. My fingers scrape at the wet pavement and slip.

The worst part isn’t the pavement biting into my skin or the blood in my mouth.

It’s knowing exactly what’s coming and not being able to stop it.

I hear them above me. My only hope is that it happens fast. And when they’re done, I pray they’ll kill me quickly.

This is what I’ve been warned about. Shielded from. Men will take what they want.

One of them kicks me, knocking me off my knees and flat on my back. My head connects with the pavement, and this time I know I’m going to black out.

I hear a grunt followed by what sounds like skin on skin.

I try to see, but my eyes are swollen and my head feels wrong.

Suddenly, a body is on top of me. The smell of cologne hits my nose.

It’s not the cheap stuff from the guys in the club.

But it’s still masculine, and it might mean danger for me.

I sob and try to push him away.

“No, please,” I sob. “No.”

It doesn’t immediately register that the body on me is not touching me. I’m braced for pain. Violation.

But it doesn’t come.

Violence surrounds me. Grunts. Cursing. Thuds as bodies hit the ground. But none of it touches me.

And then the body lying on me is gone.

Cold air washes over my exposed body once again. I don’t move. Instinct says play dead. I can’t bring myself to care that I'm basically naked on the ground.

Someone crouches over me. That scent reaches me again—cedar and something cold underneath. Sharp. Definitely expensive.

“No,” I whisper.

“Easy.” The voice is low. Soothing. “Easy. It’s over.”

I try to push my eyes open, but I barely manage slits. I can see my rescuer is enormous. I can’t see details with the light behind him. But he’s not one of the three.

“I’m going to cover you,” he says. A second later, I feel cloth brushing my tender flesh.

“I’m going to lift you.” His voice is calm and deep.

Strong arms slide under my body, and I’m suddenly floating and then I’m against his hard chest.

I try to get a better look at him and find myself staring into emerald green snake eyes. I blink and try to clear my vision. It’s a tattoo on his neck.

I stare at it because my brain can’t process anything else.

“You’re safe.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

We’re moving. I tell myself I should fight, but I have nothing left.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is harsh, like he’s been shouting for days. “I should have been there. I’m sorry.”

I don’t understand the apology. I don’t understand any of this. My brain is working too slowly.

“You’re safe,” he says. “No one will get near you again. I’ve got you.”

I can feel myself slipping into the darkness. We’re still moving. I don’t know where he’s taking me. My brain demands I fight, but I can’t move.

“I promised her,” he says quietly.

I don’t know what that means.

I want to ask. I want to ask who he is.

But the darkness I’ve been fighting off finally wins.

It feels like a heavy blanket is pulled over my head.

I wake to white.

White ceiling. White walls. A soft, steady beeping noise. I smell alcohol. No, antiseptic.

I’m in the hospital.

I turn my head slowly. Every muscle in my neck protests. There’s a chair beside the bed. It’s empty.

Everything hurts.

“There you are,” a soft, feminine voice says.

I turn my face to the sound.

I don’t know her. At least, I don’t think I do.

“Your father is on his way.”

My father is coming.

I don’t want to think about how angry he’ll be. So I close my eyes and see green snake eyes.

I have so many questions. Who was he? Where was he?

By the time my father arrives with Gregor and Pavel and all the fury of a man who nearly lost the only thing he has left, I’m ready to sleep again.

And those green eyes are waiting for me in the blackness.