Chapter 24 - Katya
The Las Vegas sun streams through the windows as I sit at the kitchen island, picking apart a croissant I don’t even really want.
The house is quiet, and yet my thoughts are anything but. For days now, Sergey’s been gone more than usual, holed up at the club or the docks or wherever men like him gravitate to when business becomes more stressful than usual.
He comes home smelling like blood and guns, and his eyes always hold whatever horrors he was just exposed to. He’s still careful with me, though. His touch is hesitant and cautious, almost like he’s afraid I’m not really here, or that I might vanish right in front of his eyes.
And I hate how much I just want more of it.
This wasn’t the plan. I never wanted to be here, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be married into a world I spent years running from. A world I watched break my father and corrupt my brother. But now I’m tied to it, and to Sergey.
Worse yet, I’m starting to care in ways I shouldn’t.
Tired of even entertaining it, I shove the pastry away and lean back to fold my arms as I stare at the ceiling.
Since the moment Sergey hauled me to Vegas, there have been two pieces inside me.
One is the woman who wants to claw her way back to New York and her old life, and the one who wakes up every morning wondering if this is the right thing, and if I might have something deeper with Sergey than I once imagined.
I don’t understand him most days. He’s reckless, infuriating, obsessive… but then he’s tender in ways I didn’t know men like him could be. Protective in a way that feels dangerous and comforting all at once.
While I don’t understand how he operates sometimes, I also feel like I entirely get it somehow, almost like I’m programmed to know.
In a way, we’re both restless when things don’t pan out how we want them to, or when circumstances start to feel beyond our control. He’s a little more willing to act than I am, but I’ve seen how he’s been trying to slow down his impulses.
The thought of staying in this life terrifies me, but by now, leaving and discovering a worse fate with Yuri scares me even more.
I don’t know how long I sit there for, but the sound of the front door swinging open pulls me from my seemingly endless thoughts. I hear his boots first, then the familiar jingle of keys while he holds them in his palm.
“Katya?” Sergey calls, voice low and unreadable, but not entirely hurried either.
“I’m in here,” I answer, still trying to shake the fog of my thoughts thanks to so much uncertainty hanging around us.
Sergey appears in the doorway a moment later with a strange energy about him, almost like he’s holding something back. Like he knows something I don’t.
I scan his face instinctively, hoping for context clues. But I find no blood and no fresh bruises. That’s already a good thing.
“Are you busy?” he asks, seemingly forgetting about our current arrangement.
I look at him pointedly. “Hardly.”
He gives me a faint smirk, and the crooked grin that used to make my blood boil now makes me feel things I never thought I would. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
I hesitate, but something in his tone is different. Almost like it’s less commanding and more…excited.
Curious, I get up and grab my shoes before following him out. At least it’s something to do.
We ride in one of his cars in silence for the most part while he takes the backroads, weaving through parts of Vegas I haven’t seen before. I take in the sights, even if I never dreamed of finding myself here.
When he finally pulls into an unfamiliar lot and cuts the engine, I stare out the window at a newly renovated brick building with glass garage doors and fresh black trim. My stomach flips.
It’s impressive, and whoever owns it must really care about the place.
In all honesty, it looks like one of the luxury garages I used to eye in magazines all the time. The ones I used as inspiration for mine back in New York, but with a much tighter budget.
As I pop the door open and step out, I glance between him and the building. “What is this?”
Sergey walks around to me and reaches into his jacket, pulling out a single key. He holds it out like it’s some prized artifact he found along the way.
“It’s yours,” he says simply, not elaborating.
I blink at him. “What?”
A grin cracks across his face while he hands me the key, essentially dropping it into my palm.
“I bought it for you, then had it renovated and set up the necessary permits. It’s a full auto body shop complete with everything you’ll ever need.
You said you missed your work…and I figured you shouldn’t have to give that up just because of all this. ”
My heart lodges in my throat, unable to find the words while it all attempts to register in my mind.
Feeling almost starry-eyed, I stare at the building, then back at him, trying to process it all. “You’re giving me a garage…just because I miss my old one?”
“I’m giving you your life back,” he says simply. “Or at least part of it, anyway.”
Something unfamiliar burns in my chest while I stare at him in complete disbelief. Alongside it, there’s gratitude, confusion, and something damn close to affection that takes me by surprise.
Despite feeling almost locked up from the shock of it all, I accept the key and feel the lingering warmth in it from his grasp.
Looking into his eyes again, there are so many things I want to say, but I can’t seem to manage a single one.
“I know it isn’t New York,” he adds, softer now, almost like he has thought this over again and again, aware of what it means to me. “But if you want to bring Roland out here, I’ll help set it up. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
I can’t speak for a long moment while my throat feels too tight.
Given how abrasive he had been about Roland being in my life before, I don’t imagine it’s an easy concession for him to make. That has to count for something.
“Why?” I finally manage to whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
His eyes meet mine, steady and unflinching. There’s a sincerity in his eyes that I can’t begin to doubt.
“Because I know I’ve taken a lot from you.
And because…I want you to want to be here with me.
Not just because you’re stuck. You shouldn’t have to choose between this life and the one you built for yourself because I said so.
You’re too strong a person…you don’t deserve to be reduced to a housewife when you want so much more. ”
My knees feel weak, and something in me is fighting to not fall apart completely at the gesture.
I turn away, pretending to inspect the garage, but I mostly need a second to breathe. And I know that if I look at him for too long, I might just crack entirely.
The garage is immaculate with wide bay doors and polished concrete floors.
State-of-the-art equipment fills the outside perimeter of the open space, with workbenches that are far larger than the one I had back in New York.
Even the smell is familiar, laced with new tires, metal, and potential.
It reminds me of home, and of how things used to be.
In a way, it makes my heart ache for everything I gave myself before. And now, Sergey is trying to do it for me.
He follows me inside but keeps his distance, allowing me to take it in on my own time. I’m grateful for the space to process it all.
I run my fingers over the edge of a metal workbench, already picturing the projects I could line up and the cars we could bring in.
For the first time since landing in Vegas, I feel something like purpose stirring in my chest again.
The drive I can never fully shake off, even if I had every right to live an easier life given my circumstances.
“You did all of this?” I ask, finally willing myself to look back at him.
He shrugs his shoulders as if it were nothing at all. “I had to keep myself busy while you were avoiding me.”
As much as I don’t want him to see just how much it all means to me, I fight back a subtle smile and lose the battle for the most part. “You’re aggravating.”
“Maybe I am.” Sergey murmurs while he moves closer, voice quieter now. “But I’m trying, Kat. I’m trying to be better. For you.”
Facing him, I take up a few more of those steps between us, and for once, I find that the mask he usually wears is completely gone. There’s nothing but raw sincerity in his expression.
Maybe I’m an idiot for even allowing this to move me. Maybe I’m slipping…But I think he means it.
Letting go of a breath that sounds a lot like surrender, I twirl the key between my fingers. “You know this is going to make it harder for me to hate you, right?”
His grin returns, and it’s brighter this time. He’s definitely pleased with himself.
“That’s the idea.”
The tension between us melts just a little while it’s replaced by something softer. Something dangerous in a way that has me questioning just how cautious I need to be.
Because if I’m not careful, I know I’ll fall harder than I should.
After all the effort I’ve put into fighting it, I don’t want to belong to the Bratva. I don’t want to follow the path my dad laid out for me.
But despite all of that, something in me wants to belong to him. And I don’t know what scares me more.