Chapter 15
Sarah
T he drive back to the estate passes in silence, though the air between us crackles with electric tension. My hands still shake from tending Yarik’s wound, from watching him kill two men without hesitation, and from seeing how close I came to losing him before I even understood what he meant to me.
I park in the staff lot like always, though when I move to get out, Yarik catches my wrist.
“Stay with me tonight.”
The words are quiet, not quite a request and not quite a demand either. I look at him, noting the way his shirt is still stained with blood, the careful way he holds his injured side, and the intensity in his blue eyes that hasn’t faded since the warehouse.
“Yarik...”
He traces his thumb across my pulse point. “I need to know you’re safe.”
I should say no. I should go home to Nina, process what happened, and maintain the professional distance I’ve been clinging to since the engagement party. Instead, I nod. “Okay.”
Relief crosses his features. We enter through the side entrance, and he leads me through corridors I’ve never seen before, past paintings that are surely originals and furniture that looks like museum pieces.
His private suite is on the third floor, accessible by a narrow staircase that ensures complete privacy.
Once inside, he moves to the fireplace and starts a fire while I stand near the windows, suddenly uncertain. The adrenaline from the warehouse is fading, leaving me hyperaware of where I am and what staying here means.
“You should shower first,” he says, gesturing toward an open doorway. “Wash away what happened today.”
I nod, grateful for the suggestion. The bathroom is larger than my entire bedroom at home, all marble and glass with a shower that looks like something from a luxury hotel. He provides me with towels and a silk robe that’s far too big, though it feels like heaven against my skin.
When I emerge twenty minutes later, he’s clearly had a shower too, perhaps in a guest room, and has changed into dark pajama pants and nothing else. The bandage on his ribs is fresh and clean, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking lost in thought.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” I move closer, noting the exhaustion in his face. “How’s your side?”
“It’ll heal.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me to sit beside him. “Thank you for what you did today. I appreciate you staying calm and taking care of me.”
“I’ve had practice.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and his expression darkens. “Your ex.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. We’ve touched on Alex before, and the reality of what that relationship was like sits between us now like a living thing.
“Tell me about him.” His voice is steady, but I see the tension in his muscular shoulders.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. You told me his name, but where is he, and how did he hurt you?”
I curl up beside him and pull my knees to my chest. “We dated for two years. He was charming at first and attentive. Then he became controlling and jealous. He didn’t like me working and didn’t want me going to school.
When I tried to leave the first time, he.
..” I touch my ribs unconsciously, remembering.
“He made sure I understood what happened to people who disappointed him.”
“He hit you.”
“Among other things.” I lean into Yarik’s warmth and draw comfort from his solid presence. “I learned to read his moods and anticipate when he was going to explode. I got good at first-aid because someone always ended up bleeding. Almost always me,” I add softly, lost in the memories for a second.
He stiffens but his voice is gentle when he asks, “How did you get away?”
“He went out of town for business. I packed one bag, ran, and moved here with Nina. We’d been planning it for a while.” I let out a harsh sigh. “I thought I was free until I saw that rose…”
“Rose?” He’s frowning now.
I remember the red rose on the bench. “Red roses were his signature apology. Every time he hurt me, he’d show up with a single rose and promises to change.” I inhale and exhale before saying, “I saw a rose on a bench in your garden the other day.”
He freezes before shaking his head. “It couldn’t have been from him. He would never get past my security.”
I manage a small, wobbly smile. “I’d like to think so, but there was also a text, and I smelled his cologne…” Spoken aloud, it doesn’t add up to much proof, but my gut tells me he’s followed me to Greenwich, and I’ve learned to trust it. “He’s after me,” I say solemnly and with finality.
He clenches his hands into fists. “If he ever comes near you again, I’ll kill him. I swear you’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
It feels reassuring, but I can’t entirely believe in the promise. It isn’t because I lack trust in Yarik despite his decision to go ahead with the engagement to Katya. I just know how Alex operates, so I can never feel truly safe as long as he’s out there.
My stomach churns with nausea as I suddenly think about what Alex will do if he finds out I’m pregnant by someone else. If I’ve had the baby when he catches up with me, he’ll try to kill both of us. My mouth is dry.
Yarik frowns. “What is it?”
I shake my head, unable to verbalize the fear without telling him about the pregnancy. “Your turn,” I say softly. “Tell me more about your tattoos. I know the stars mean something important.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if he’ll deflect like he usually does when conversations turn too personal.
He unbuttons his shirt and takes my hands to guide them to the two stars below his left collarbone.
“Thieves’ stars. They mark rank in the vory v zakone —thieves-in-law.
” His voice is matter-of-fact, but there’s tension in his muscles. “I earned them when I was eighteen.”
“Earned them how?”
“By killing the men who murdered my parents.”
The casual way he says it makes my blood run cold. “Yarik...”
He doesn’t look away from me, maintaining eye contact as he continues the story in that slightly distant tone.
“They were business rivals. The Kozlovs. They thought eliminating the Barinov leadership would let them take over our territory.” He traces the edge of one star with his finger. “They were wrong.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. “How many men?”
“Four. My father’s killers and their lieutenants.” I see no regret in his expression, only cold satisfaction. “I did it slowly and made them suffer the way my parents suffered.”
I should be horrified. Any sane person would be running for the door right now. Instead, I understand the teenager who lost everything and chose vengeance over grief. It gives me a spark of hope because he’s a man who can handle Alex. “Do you regret it?”
“No.” His answer is immediate. “They deserved worse than they got.”
I trace the second star and note how the ink has faded slightly with age. “And this one?”
“They’re given in pairs, but in total, the stars were for taking control of the family business and proving I was worthy of my father’s legacy.
I was really running our bratva from the time I was about sixteen, since my Uncle Yuri was no good at the role.
He would have surrendered to the Kozlovs or traded away our empire for warm women and iced vodka. “
His voice softens slightly. “The bratva isn’t just a criminal organization, Sarah.
It’s a brotherhood with a code of honor.
The rules have changed some in the last generation or two, with wives and children being more permissive, but in the old days, being vory meant forsaking all family.
Now, all family is protected, though rivals don’t always respect the unwritten rule to leave women and children out of the feud. In those cases, we protect our own.”
The conviction in his voice makes something twist in my stomach.
This is his world, violent and dangerous and utterly foreign to everything I’ve known.
Yet sitting here with him and seeing the vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior, I can’t bring myself to condemn it.
“What about the others?” I touch an elaborate design on his shoulder, all curves and thorns.
“That’s a rose, for my mother, like I mentioned before. She grew them in our garden.” His voice catches slightly. “I was supposed to be with them that night. I stayed home sick instead.”
“Survivor’s guilt.”
“Something like that.” He captures my hand and presses it flat against his chest. “I’ve spent twenty years building walls and keeping people at distance. It’s safer that way.”
“Safer for whom?”
His lips curve into a grim smile. “Everyone. People close to me become targets. Leverage. Weaknesses my enemies can exploit.”
I understand what he’s really saying. Being here, staying with him, and choosing this makes me a target too.
The thought should terrify me, and all I experience is a strange sense of inevitability.
I’ve been a target for years as Alex’s possession.
Breaking free from that only to be possibly enduring it again frightens me, but having Yarik on my side is comforting. “I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
I shake my head. “Maybe, but I’m more afraid of losing you than I am of whatever dangers come with loving you.” The word slips out before I can stop it, hanging in the air between us like a confession.
He stares at me as though looking for signs I don’t mean it. “Sarah...”
“I know it’s crazy. I know it’s too soon and too complicated and probably impossible.
Watching you today, thinking I might lose you…
” I shake my head. “I can’t pretend this is just physical.
” I’ve already told him I loved him once with no response, so I don’t expect this time to get any verbal confirmation either, but after today, I need to say it again.