12. Artem
Artem
“She’s blowing my phone up. Do you have yours off or something?” Roman holds his phone up to show me Giselle’s name flashing across his screen.
“Jesus, fucking answer it before we have another incident. I took my car today,” Maxim says jokingly, and I shoot him a glare before I reach for my phone from my back pocket.
I click her contact and I swear she answers it before it even rings once.
“Are you out of your mind? You can’t just send random freaks here when there’s a woman home alone in the middle of the night. I’m sure you’re used to doing whatever you please, but at least try to consider that you now have someone sitting here when you’re all gone.”
I squint my eyes as I try to understand what she’s going on about.
“I haven’t sent anyone to the house. Did someone show up?”
“Uh, yeah, one of your creepy Russian henchmen was rummaging around in the house. I thought—”
“Inside the house?”
She confirms my question and I swallow hard, feeling my heart rate quicken as I turn to face Roman.
“Did one of you send someone to the house?”
They both shake their heads and look at each other a bit confused.
“Giselle, make sure all of the doors are locked.”
“Yeah, thanks, as if I didn’t check that already once I got him out. I heard the gates open and close, so he definitely left.”
My jaw clenches, and I pull the phone from my ear after I tell her I’ll be there shortly.
“Roman, I have to go. Will you get this handled?”
Roman nods, and Maxim speaks up. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know, I have to go back to the house and check on Giselle.”
Maxim’s arm catches my shoulder as I go to walk away. “Is she hurt?”
“No. But she could’ve been. I’ll deal with it,” I say curtly, and he nods.
When I walk into the house again, I see her sitting on the third step waiting for me.
“Is that my father’s iron?” I break out into a laugh as she huffs and stands, setting the golf club down.
“Yeah, laugh all you want. This is the only weapon I could find, you know, and it worked wonders.”
I finish laughing and shake my head, my lips still curled in a smile.
“And I wouldn’t need it if you’d have given me a gun, considering you all plan to leave me here apparently vulnerable to break-ins.”
“Maybe if you behave for more than a day I can consider it,” I say as my smile disappears from my face and I walk forward and grab her chin, moving her face from side to side to examine her.
“God, get off me,” she says struggling, and moves back.
“Did he do something to you?”
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes.
“No, besides giving me a heart attack. He had a gun but never reached for it, so he might not have meant any harm, but I don’t know who he was.”
“I told you not to trust men, you shouldn’t let your guard down even if someone seems not to mean harm.”
She throws her head back a bit. “Yeah, yeah, no one but you, I remember. But what am I supposed to do when some guy comes here and says you sent him?”
“What did he look like?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I mean light hair, light eyes, Russian accent, a little short.”
“You’re describing half of my men,” I say with an irritated sigh.
“Well, how is it my fault all your men are from the same place? I don’t know anyone’s names yet, and I’m not an expert in description.” She crosses her arms, and I put one of my hands on her forearm.
“Where was he in here? Did he go to the bedroom?”
“No, he was in your demented torture chamber. Which, once again, is just casually unlocked. He said something about papers? Like you sent him to find some and bring them back?”
I furrow my brows and try to think of who would be looking for something here, and what it would be. I ask her to take me to see where he was looking, and she brings me down to the basement.
“If you sit there, I can show you what he was doing.” she says, casually gesturing to the chair that’s bolted into the ground in the middle of the room. The right side of my mouth lifted in amusement as I follow behind her.
“Nice try, solnishko. If you want to get me back, you’ll have to trick me a little better than that,” I whisper loudly into her ear as I pass her to the file cabinets. She rolls her eyes and looks them over before she picks a drawer to open.
“He was looking through this one when I came in, but I don’t know how long he was really in here.”
I shuffle through some of the folders in the cabinet, but they’re only old accounts of shipments from last year.
“Who keeps this much paperwork anyway? Do you know what year it is?”
“You think criminal organizations should upload their secrets to the Cloud?”
She scoffs, trying not to laugh. “I just mean, anyone can walk in here and rummage through these. You could keep everything on physical hard drives. That’s what my dad does, at least.”
I consider her words, but not even Roman wouldn’t be willing to sit and digitalize years and years’ worth of shit.
“My father was old-fashioned,” I mutter as I close the drawer.
“Don’t you want to avoid someone doing this again?”
“Sure, I’ll spend the next few weeks uploading all of these and just let my little brothers run shit,” I say sarcastically as I run a hand through my hair in frustration.
“Well, I’m here doing nothing all day anyway. I could do it.”
My eyes flash to her as she says that. “You’re offering to download years’ worth of documents for me?”
“It isn’t for you, Artem. Whether I like it or not, I guess I’m a fucking Sokolov now. And as the wife of the pakhan, I have to make sure my husband has everything in order.”
I look at her, my eyes taking in her body as I try to keep back the comments I want to make about the pajamas she’s in.
“As my wife, huh? Is that right?” I step forward and run my hand down her waist, stopping at the top of her shorts. “Tell me what you’re really up to, solnishko, before I fuck it out of you.”
She sighs, and then starts again. “Well in exchange for helping, you could maybe see if there’s anything else I could be useful for at least.”
“I can find many uses for you,” I say as my fingers pull on the waistband of her shorts, trying to peek at the panties she’s wearing but she slaps my hand away.
“No, you fucking pervert. Real uses for me, in the business. I’m educated and I’m—”
“No,” I say, cutting her off, and a scowl forms on her face. “I don’t need my wife poking her nose in and causing trouble.”
“Excuse me? Causing trouble? If this,” she says gesturing to the many file cabinet, “Is your definition of fucking organization and success, then you’re the one in trouble. You know I’m capable and you’re still going to sit here and do that whole act as if you think I’m some useless woman?”
I can see her hazel eyes burning into mine as she goes off, and I ball my fist. “Is that really what you think of me, Artem? Anything I can do, a man can do better?”
I don’t answer, and the silence that envelops the room deepens the tension.
Of course, I know she’s capable.
I don’t think there’s a woman in the world more fucking well-rounded than her.
Gorgeous, respected degree, well-spoken, strong, determined. But I already put her at risk tonight, and all she did was sit prettily in my home.
She’s hardly safe just living with me and I can’t let her anywhere near the rest of this.
What if he didn’t just leave as easily as he did? What if he had come to hurt her? What if he wanted those papers so badly, he’d have killed her for stopping him? I would’ve come home to find her dead. I don’t think an inch of this god-forsaken city would be safe if that happened.
“Why don’t you understand why I do what I do? Do you know why women are left out of these things, or are you just that naive?”
She shakes her head and looks down, biting her cheek.
“It isn’t fair. I already have to hear it from my own family.
You’ve practically beaten the idea into me yourself, but you know I’ll never give it up.
I’m not born to be your arm candy, Artem, I can’t live my life being a scared girl who won’t go for what she wants because a man told her no.
I need something to myself here. I need a purpose in my life, Artem. ”
Her words almost punch me in the gut, and I have to avoid her eyes. I hate looking at this strong woman in front of me and breaking her down until she’s confused and insecure, but I don’t know how else to protect her.
“I would give you literally anything else,” I say as I softly hold her chin, “just name it. Anything but that, I just can’t.”
Her jaw tightens as I can see her trying to keep her eyes from watering.
“You can hit me, scream at me, stab me again, I don’t give a shit; just want something else. Please.”
“Why? The real answer, Artem.”
I release her chin and step back, swallowing hard.
“Does this have something to do with Sara?”
My eyes flick up quickly when she says that.
Sara.
Images of her smiling, bright face start flashing through my head like a slideshow. I’ve tried so hard to keep her from making her way back to the front of my mind and focus on my new duties, and Giselle.
“How do you know about her?”
“I don’t know enough, apparently.”
I sigh, going to walk out of the basement as she follows behind. We walk over to the den so I can pour myself a drink to be able to handle this conversation.
I offer her a glass and she takes it, downing it quickly and immediately gagging.
“Jesus fuck, what is this? Rubbing alcohol?”
I laugh as I pour myself my own drink and take a sip.
“You have to get used to it now,” I say with a smirk, but it quickly drops. “Sara was . . . my girlfriend. She died almost ten years ago.” I say it casually, hoping she might not probe further, but of course she does.
“So, around when we met then?”
I nod, lifting the glass to my mouth again.
“Is that why you were even worse back then than you are now?”
I lift my eyebrows in a quick motion, a smile almost playing on my lips at her words. “I guess so,” I mutter.
“How did she die then?”
I look down to the counter of the bar before I answer.
“She was killed.”
I see her tilt her head, almost sensing how her beautiful wheels begin turning.