Chapter 15 Eva
EVA
The elevator ride to the forty-second floor feels longer than usual this Monday morning, my reflection in the polished steel doors showing a woman who looks far more composed than she feels.
I've barely slept since Friday night, since Roman's mouth claimed mine in this very elevator, since Lev's dark eyes witnessed our disheveled appearance and knew exactly what we'd been doing.
I smooth my navy dress for the third time, press my thumbnail into my index finger until it hurts, then force myself to stop. Professional. Composed. Like nothing happened.
The doors slide open, and I step onto the floor with my chin up and my spine straight, even though my stomach is churning with anxiety. Roman's office is empty when I pass, and I exhale slowly, grateful for a few moments to collect myself before facing those piercing blue eyes that see too much.
I settle at my desk and dive into work with focused intensity, organizing files and reviewing Roman's schedule for the day.
But my mind keeps drifting to Friday night, to the desperate way we kissed, to the heat of his body pressed against mine, to the way his hands gripped my hips like he was claiming me.
My thighs clench involuntarily at the memory, and I force my attention back to my computer screen.
By mid-morning, I need coffee desperately. The break room is blessedly empty when I enter, but then the door closes behind me with a soft click that makes my spine stiffen.
I turn to find Lev Baranov leaning against the door, his dark eyes flat and dangerous in a way that makes my pulse spike with fear.
He's wearing one of his perfectly tailored suits, his hands in his pockets, his expression revealing nothing.
But there's something predatory in his stillness, like a wolf deciding whether to attack or simply watch its prey squirm.
"Miss Markova." His voice is low, controlled, the kind of tone that forces you to lean in to hear properly. "We need to talk."
My throat goes dry. "Of course. What can I help you with?"
Lev moves away from the door, closing the distance between us with measured steps.
I want to retreat, but the counter is at my back, trapping me.
He stops just close enough to invade my space without actually touching me, and I catch the scent of expensive cologne and something darker, more dangerous.
"You need to stay away from Roman."
The words are delivered with such cold finality that for a moment I can't process them. "I… I don't know what you mean. I'm his secretary. I work for him."
"Don't play stupid." Lev's dark eyes bore into mine. "I saw you Friday night. I know what happened in that elevator. And I'm telling you it needs to stop."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I force myself to meet his gaze without flinching. "Nothing happened. We were just—"
"Lying to me is a waste of both our time." He leans slightly closer, and I press back against the counter, my heart hammering. "You're a distraction Roman can't afford. A weakness that will get people killed."
"I'm not—"
"You are." His voice drops even lower, becomes almost gentle, which somehow makes it more terrifying.
"Roman is the Pakhan. Do you understand what that means?
He runs an empire built on blood and violence and ruthless calculation.
He can't afford to be distracted by a pretty face and a tight body.
He can't afford to make decisions with his dick instead of his brain. "
The crude words make me flinch, but I force steel into my voice. "There's nothing between us. I'm just doing my job."
Even as the words leave my mouth, I know I'm lying.
To Lev. To myself. I'm wildly attracted to Roman Sokolov despite knowing he's dangerous, despite every logical reason I should run as far and fast as possible.
The memory of his kiss, his hands, the controlled power in his body makes my skin flush with desire I can't suppress.
Lev sees it. I watch recognition flicker in his dark eyes, and his expression hardens further. "You're already in too deep. I can see it on your face."
"What do you want from me?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "You want me to quit? To leave?"
"I want you to understand what you're walking into.
" Lev's tone shifts, becomes something darker, more ominous.
"Roman's world destroys innocent things.
I've watched it happen for twenty years.
Beautiful, naive women who think they can handle him, who think love will be enough.
They all end the same way—broken, traumatized, or dead. "
The words send ice through my veins. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm warning you." He straightens, putting a few inches of distance between us, but his eyes never leave mine. "Roman protects what's his with brutal efficiency. But he also destroys it. That's what men like us do. We consume everything we touch until there's nothing left but ash."
My hands are shaking now, and I press them flat against the counter behind me to hide it. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I've known Roman since we were fifteen years old.
He's my brother in everything but blood, and I'd die for him without hesitation.
" Lev's voice carries absolute conviction.
"But I also know what he's capable of. The darkness inside him.
The violence that's always just beneath the surface.
You think you've seen it, but you haven't.
Not really. And when you do, it will be too late. "
He moves toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the handle. "Stay away from him, Miss Markova. For your own sake. For his. Before this situation destroys you both."
Then he's gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that sounds impossibly loud in the sudden silence.
I stand frozen, my coffee forgotten, my hands trembling against the counter.
Lev's words echo in my mind, each one a warning I should heed but know I won't. Because he's right.
I'm already in too deep. I'm attracted to Roman in a way that defies logic, that ignores every survival instinct I possess.
I force myself to finish making the coffee, my movements mechanical. When I finally return to my desk, I can feel Roman's presence through the glass wall even before I look up. He's at his desk, his attention focused on documents, but I know he's aware of me. He's always aware of me.
I watch him through the glass, seeing him with new eyes after Lev's warning.
The controlled violence in the way he moves, precise and economical.
The cold calculation in his blue eyes when he's on the phone, speaking rapid Russian in that low voice that does things to my body I can't control.
The way his jaw tightens when he's displeased, the flex of his forearms when he removes his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves.
He's dangerous. Violent. A man who destroys innocent things.
And God help me, I want him anyway.
The morning drags on with agonizing slowness. I handle calls, organize files, prepare documents for Roman's afternoon meetings. But my mind keeps circling back to Lev's warning, to the certainty in his dark eyes when he talked about Roman's capacity for destruction.
The elevator chimes in the early afternoon, and I glance up automatically. A woman steps onto the floor, and my breath catches.
She's tall—maybe five-nine in her designer heels—with sleek dark hair worn in a severe bob that frames sharp cheekbones and ice-blue eyes.
Everything about her screams money and breeding, from her Chanel suit to her Hermès bag to the diamond studs glittering in her ears.
She moves through the office like she owns it, her gaze sweeping over the space with proprietary assessment before landing on me with contemptuous dismissal.
I stand, my professional armor snapping into place. "Good afternoon. Can I help you?"
"I'm here to see Roman." Her English is flawless but heavily accented, each word clipped and precise. She doesn't slow down, doesn't wait for my response, just continues walking toward Roman's office like I'm an obstacle to be ignored.
I move quickly, intercepting her before she can reach his door. "Mr. Sokolov is in a meeting and can't be disturbed. If you'd like to make an appointment—"
"I don't need an appointment." She stops, finally looking at me directly, and the contempt in her ice-blue eyes makes my skin prickle. "I'm Daria Borisova. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
The name means nothing to me, but something in her tone suggests it should. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Sokolov's schedule is full this afternoon. If you'd like to leave your contact information—"
"You don't understand." Her perfectly made-up face twists with anger, her voice rising slightly. "I don't need an appointment to see my fiancé. Now move aside before I have you fired."
The word hits me like a physical blow. Fiancé.
My mind goes blank, my body frozen in place as the implications crash over me. Roman has a fiancée. He kissed me, touched me, made me feel things I've never felt before, and he has a fucking fiancée.
Daria uses my shock to push past me, her shoulder connecting with mine hard enough to make me stumble. I watch helplessly as she strides into Roman's office without knocking, her voice carrying through the glass walls.
"Roman, darling! I've been trying to reach you all weekend."
Through the glass wall, I see Roman's expression transform.
Not surprise. Not pleasure at seeing her.
Pure, cold fury that makes the temperature in the room seem to drop ten degrees.
He stands slowly, his movements controlled but radiating displeasure, and his blue eyes flick to me for just a moment.
What I see in that brief glance makes my chest tighten with something I don't want to examine. Not guilt. Not apology. Something darker, more possessive. Like he's furious that Daria has revealed this connection, that she's disrupted whatever game he's been playing with me.
I turn away, my hands shaking, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I sink into my desk chair and stare blindly at my computer screen, Lev's warning echoing in my mind with new, devastating clarity.
Roman's world destroys innocent things.
And I've just discovered exactly how right he was.