I cannot believe this happened right here. I did not plan on kissing the most dangerous man in Moscow, much less in front of the woman who was planning to marry him that very night. But when I saw the metallic gleam hidden in his glass, I had three seconds to decide: let him die or destroy my own life. I chose to save him. I just did not know that in doing so, I had just made myself the next target.
This story is going to shock you. Listen carefully because you are going to need to, honey. I had been pretending to be an idiot for three weeks, and that was to be the last night of the charade in Moscow. The Ivankov mansion was filled with crystals, red velvet curtains, and armed men disguised as elegant guests. No one there was really who they claimed to be, and that included me, blending perfectly into the dangerous decor of that engagement party.
I adjusted the clipboard against my chest and smiled at the security guard who had been watching me with suspicion since I entered the main hall. He did not trust me, and he was right not to trust me, but my naive smile always worked better than any fake credentials. The high heels I was wearing were beautiful and completely impractical, exactly the kind of choice a delicate event planner would make. I stumbled slightly as I passed one of the waiters and apologized with the soft voice I had rehearsed for weeks. No one suspects someone who apologizes all the time.
Ekatarina Petrov was at the center of the hall, beautiful as a Russian porcelain doll, wearing a dress that sparkled every time the light touched it. She smiled at the guests and accepted the compliments with the gracefulness of someone born for it. But I saw what no one else saw: her eyes did not smile along with her mouth. I was supposed to be checking the flower arrangements, the champagne glasses, and the timing of the official toast. It was my job, or at least that is what everyone believed was my job.
But while I pretended to write something on the clipboard, my eyes followed her. Every movement, every calculated gesture, every discreet glance she cast at the man who was about to become her husband. Alexei was impossible to ignore, even when he was standing still. He wore a suit that seemed to have been made for his body and his body alone. All dark, all perfectly tailored, all absolutely intimidating. His hair was slicked back and revealed a face that should be considered handsome but was actually too dangerous to receive any compliment as superficial as that.
He did not smile, not at all. He just watched the party with the expression of someone counting how many seconds were left before he could leave and go back to doing things more important than faking civility. When someone approached to greet him, he tilted his head with minimal politeness and responded with curt monosyllables. I should have been afraid of him. Any sensible person should have been afraid of him. But fear was never something that stopped me from doing what needed to be done. And that night, I had a very clear mission, even though no one knew it besides me.
Ekatarina moved toward the table where the crystal glasses were arranged in perfect rows. Each one was prepared for the official toast that would happen in less than ten minutes. She picked up one of the glasses, raised it slightly as if admiring the golden liquid inside, and then discreetly switched it with another one right next to it. No one noticed. The security guards were too busy watching the entrances. The guests were too busy talking about business disguised as pleasantries. And Alexei was too busy being intimidating to pay attention to the small details happening around him.
But I noticed, because noticing things others do not notice was exactly why I was there. My heart raced, but not from fear—it was from adrenaline, the kind that comes before doing something completely stupid and necessary at the same time. I knew exactly what she had done, and I knew exactly what would happen if I let it happen without interfering. Alexei Ivankov would die at that engagement party, poisoned by his own bride, and the war that would follow would be too brutal, even by the standards of that violent world.
I tucked the clipboard under my arm and started moving through the hall with the same fake delicacy as always. I dodged guests, excused myself with small smiles, and maintained the posture of someone who was just doing their job and not planning to completely ruin everyone’s life in the next thirty seconds. Alexei approached the table of glasses. He picked up exactly the one Ekatarina had marked, the one she had purposely placed where he always picked things up. He raised the glass with indifference and observed the guests who were starting to gather around him for the official toast.
I had three seconds, maybe four if I was lucky, before he brought the glass to his lips and drank the poison the bride had prepared so carefully. Three seconds to decide whether to save his life or let fate follow its planned course. Three seconds to completely ruin the charade I had built for weeks. I crossed the hall. I did not run, because running would draw attention, but I moved fast enough that some guests turned and looked at me with curiosity. The high heels made noise against the marble floor, and the sound echoed in the relative silence that had formed around Alexei before the toast.
He saw me approaching and frowned slightly, as if trying to understand what an event planner would be doing, interrupting the most important moment of the night. I saw the exact instant he started to bring the glass to his lips. I saw the slow and inevitable movement that would end with his death. So, I did the only thing I could do. I held his face with both hands, pulled hard enough for him to lower his head, and kissed him right there in front of everyone—in front of the bride, in front of the security guards, the guests, everyone who mattered and everyone who did not matter.
The silence that formed was deafening. I felt Ekatarina’s eyes boring into me with hatred. I felt Alexei’s breathing stop completely against my mouth. I felt the collective shock explode in the hall like a silent bomb. The glass slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with the sound of shattering crystal, and the champagne spread across the marble like liquid evidence of my insanity. When I pulled away, Alexei was staring at me with an expression I could not fully decipher. Anger, confusion, surprise, and something else that seemed dangerously close to interest.
He said nothing for long seconds, just watched me as if trying to decide whether to kill me right there or wait to understand what the hell had just happened. Ekatarina advanced toward me with eyes shining with barely contained fury. She was trembling, not from fear, but from pure, distilled rage. “Who do you think you are?” Her voice came out sharp, bladelike, loaded with public humiliation and instant hatred. Before I could respond, before I could invent some excuse that made sense, Alexei grabbed my wrist firmly.
His fingers were warm against my skin, and the pressure was too firm to be gentle, too possessive to be just curiosity. He pulled me close, so close I could feel his heat, the scent of something expensive and masculine, and the tension vibrating in his body. “Don’t come near her,” he said this to Ekatarina, but his eyes remained fixed on me. His voice was low, controlled, absolutely lethal. Ekatarina looked about to explode. “She just kissed you in front of everyone at our engagement party, and you’re going to defend her?”
Alexei finally looked at his bride, and the expression he used made her involuntarily take a step back. “I’m going to find out exactly why she did that, and you’re going to wait.” He dragged me through the hall with his hand still gripping my wrist, and I did not resist, because resisting would be completely useless at that moment. The guests moved aside as we passed, clearing the way as if we were contagious, and the murmurs began before we were even completely out of everyone’s sight.
When we reached a side corridor, away from prying eyes, he pushed me against the wall with controlled force. It did not hurt, but it made very clear that I was not in control of that situation. His eyes were dark, intense, and dangerous in a way that made my stomach twist with something that definitely was not fear. “Either you’re suicidal,” he said with his voice low and dangerous, “or you just saved me.” I took a deep breath, smelled his cologne mixed with the scent of danger that seemed to emanate from everything in that place, and spoke with the firmest voice I could muster.
“Don’t drink it.” He frowned. “What?” “The glass. Don’t drink from it ever.” The confusion on his face lasted exactly three seconds before being replaced by cold, calculating understanding. He released me and returned to the hall with quick, silent steps, and I followed him because I had no choice. Because I had already thrown myself into that chaos and now needed to see how far it went. Alexei picked up the broken glass from the floor and called one of the security guards with a minimal nod. “Test this now.”
The guard obeyed without question, carefully picked up the crystal shards, and quickly left the hall. Ekatarina was pale but maintained a neutral expression as if she did not know exactly what was happening. She was good at pretending, maybe even better than me. The minutes that followed were too tense to be bearable. No one spoke. No one moved. Everyone waited for some explanation that clearly would not come anytime soon. When the guard returned, he approached Alexei and whispered something that made his face harden in a way that would frighten even the bravest men in that hall.
“Poison,” Alexei said the word out loud, letting it echo through the deadly silence. He looked at Ekatarina with an expression that revealed absolutely nothing and then looked at me with something that seemed almost like admiration. “Someone tried to kill me at my own engagement party.” Ekatarina feigned shock. She brought her hand to her chest and widened her eyes with theatrical perfection. “That’s absurd. Who would do such a thing?” Alexei did not respond. He just kept watching me as if trying to read every thought passing through my head.
After long seconds, he turned to the guests who were watching everything with a mix of fear and morbid fascination. “The party’s over. All of you can leave.” His voice allowed no questions. The guests began to disperse quickly, leaving the mansion with the haste of those who do not want to witness what would clearly follow. When the hall emptied, and only I, Alexei, Ekatarina, and the closest security guards remained, he finally spoke again. “You,” he pointed at me, “will be under my protection until we find out the truth.”
“Protection?” I repeated the word as if I did not know exactly what it meant in that context. “That’s right. You don’t leave my sight until I completely understand what happened here today.” He approached me again, and this time the proximity seemed even more intense, even more loaded with something that was not just curiosity. “Either you were involved in the assassination attempt and just had a crisis of conscience, or you really saved me. Either way, you’re too interesting to let escape.”
Ekatarina laughed bitterly. “You’re going to confine the woman who kissed you in front of everyone? How romantic, Alexei.” He did not even look at her. “You’re not going anywhere either until this is cleared up. You both stay here.” I should have been nervous. I should have been planning an escape. I should have been regretting doing something so impulsive. But when I looked at Alexei and saw the intensity with which he watched me, the only thing I felt was the absolute certainty that I had just entered a game far more dangerous than any espionage mission could be.
“What’s your name?” he asked with his voice low, too intimate for the situation. “Esme. Esme McBride.” “Esme.” He repeated my name slowly, testing the sound, making it seem more important than it really was. “You just became the most interesting person in Moscow. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of that.” I did not respond, because the truth was I was not ready for anything that would come next, and especially was not ready for the way my heart raced every time he got too close to me.
Alexei Ivankov’s penthouse was on the top floor of the mansion and had a panoramic view of Moscow that would probably be beautiful if I were not being escorted there like an elegant prisoner. Two security guards walked behind me, silent as armed shadows. And Alexei went ahead without looking back even once, as if he knew with absolute certainty that I would follow without question. He was right. I followed because resisting at that moment would be stupid and because part of me was genuinely curious to discover what would happen now that I had completely destroyed my disguise as an innocent and delicate event planner.
The charade had ended the exact moment my lips touched his in front of half the dangerous world. When we entered the penthouse, the first thing that hit me was the silence. It was not the kind of empty silence that exists in abandoned places, but rather that heavy, intentional silence of controlled spaces where every sound matters too much. The enormous windows made the snow visible outside, falling softly against the glass, and the decor was minimalist in a way that screamed power and absolute control.
Alexei dismissed the guards with a nod, and they left without saying a word, closing the door with a soft click that sounded too final for my taste. We were alone, me and the man who had just turned me into a hostage of his own protection. “Sit down,” he pointed to a dark leather sofa near the fireplace that crackled softly, casting dancing shadows across the walls. I did not sit because sitting would be agreeing that he was in control. Although technically he was in control of everything there, I still had enough pride to pretend I had some choice in the matter.
“I’d rather stand.” He raised an eyebrow, and for the first time since we met, I saw something that seemed vaguely close to amusement cross his face. “You really kissed the head of the Russian mafia in front of two hundred people, saved my life, and now you’re worried about keeping up appearances by refusing to sit on my couch?” When he put it that way, it sounded ridiculous. But I maintained my posture and crossed my arms in front of my body, holding the clipboard that had become more of a useless prop than anything else.
“I was doing my job.” “Do event planners usually kiss the hosts as part of the service?” His voice was low, provocative, loaded with sharp irony that made my stomach twist. “Only when they realize the host is about to be poisoned by his own bride.” I responded with the same fake calm he used and saw the amusement on his face disappear instantly. Alexei took two steps toward me and stopped so close that I needed to lift my chin slightly to continue staring into his eyes.
His height was intimidating, his presence was suffocating, and the way he watched me made it seem like he was trying to dismantle every layer of lies I had built around my true identity. “How did you know?” he asked with his voice dangerously soft. “I saw her switching the glasses.” “And why did you care?” That was the million-dollar question, was it not? Why the hell did I care? My original mission did not involve saving his life. It involved observing him, studying him, and reporting everything relevant to the people who paid me to be there.
Letting him die would have been strategically convenient and personally safe. But when I saw that glass rising toward his lips, the only thing I could think was that I could not just stand there and watch. Because killing someone at an engagement party is in extremely bad taste and would reflect very poorly on my work as an event planner. I responded with deliberate lightness, testing how far I could push his patience. Alexei did not smile. He just kept watching me with that disturbing intensity that made it seem like he could see directly through every word I spoke.
“You’re lying.” “Everyone’s lying here, Mr. Ivankov. It’s part of the atmosphere.” “Call me Alexei.” It was not a request. It was a soft order disguised as a suggestion. “Alexei.” I repeated his name and felt something strange happen in my chest when I said it out loud. Something that should not have been happening. Something that definitely was not part of the plan. He extended his hand and lightly touched my chin, making my face turn slightly so the firelight would better illuminate my features.
The touch was firm but not violent, possessive but not aggressive, and I instantly hated the fact that my body reacted to that minimal contact, as if it were something much more significant than it should be. “Are you afraid of me, Esme?” “Should I be?” I returned the question because answering directly would be admitting weakness or lying blatantly, and neither option pleased me. “Most people are.” “I’m not most people.” “No,” he agreed quietly, still holding my chin with deceptive gentleness. “You definitely aren’t.”
Alexei released me and moved away, walking to the huge window that overlooked the snow-covered city. He stood there for long seconds with his back to me, and I took the moment to breathe properly for the first time since I had entered that penthouse. “You’re going to stay here until I find out exactly who you are,” he said without turning around. “It’s not negotiable. If I don’t want to stay, then my guards will prevent you from leaving, and you’ll stay anyway, but with much less comfort and dignity.”
He finally looked at me over his shoulder. “I’d prefer you cooperate. It makes things easier for both of us.” I could fight. I could try to get out of there using force, using tricks, using any skill my training had given me over the years, but that would reveal exactly who I was, and revealing that now would throw away weeks of careful work. So, I did the only sensible thing left. I pretended to agree. “Fine.” I spoke with the resigned voice of someone who has no choice. “I’ll stay, but I need clean clothes and a separate room.”
“You’ll have both.” Alexei walked to a side door and opened it, revealing an adjacent room that was bigger than some apartments I had seen. “Clothes will be provided. Food, too. Anything you need, just ask.” “Except freedom.” “Except freedom,” he confirmed without any trace of guilt or hesitation. I entered the room that would be my gilded cage and looked around with the feigned attention of someone who is just curious and not trained to memorize every detail of potentially hostile environments.
The bed was huge, covered with sheets that seemed too expensive to be used, and there was a door that probably led to a private bathroom. “Why are you doing this?” I asked, turning back to Alexei, who was still standing in the doorway. “Because you saved my life, and I don’t trust coincidences.” He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and crossed his arms, observing every micro-expression on my face. “No one simply decides to kiss a stranger to prevent him from drinking poison, unless they have very specific reasons for wanting that stranger to stay alive.”
“Maybe I’m just a good person.” “Good people don’t survive in Moscow, Esme. Especially not in the kind of environment where you decided to work.” He was right. Obviously, genuinely good people did not last long near the Russian mafia, and any real innocence would have been crushed long ago by the weight of everything that happened in the shadows of that city. But admitting that would be agreeing that I was not who I pretended to be. So, I kept a neutral expression and shrugged.
“I’ll let you rest.” Alexei moved away from the door but stopped before leaving completely. “Just to be clear, there are guards outside this penthouse. There are cameras in all the hallways, and if you try to escape, you’ll be intercepted before you reach the elevator. Not because I think you’re dangerous, but because I need to make sure you’re safe.” “Safe or imprisoned. The two things can coexist perfectly.” He responded with a half-smile that did not reach his eyes. “Good night, Esme.”
When the door closed, I waited exactly five minutes before starting to move. I took off the high heels that had been torture all night and felt immediate relief in my feet. I walked barefoot to the window and observed Moscow below, all covered in snow and dim lights, and tried to process exactly what I had just done to my own mission. Kissing Alexei Ivankov was not in the plan. Saving his life definitely was not in the plan. And now being trapped in his penthouse under constant surveillance with chemistry too obvious happening between us every time we were in the same environment. This was a complete disaster.
I went to the bathroom and washed my face, observing my reflection in the mirror with critical attention. My lipstick had smudged slightly during the kiss, and I could still feel the ghost of his lips against mine, the heat, the surprise, and the intensity of something that should have been just strategic but had felt dangerously real. “Focus, Esme,” I whispered to myself. “He’s nothing more than a mission.” But even as I said that out loud, I knew I was lying, because Alexei Ivankov was much more than just a mission.
And I was starting to realize I had put myself in a situation where the lines between professional and personal were dangerously blurred. I went back to the bedroom and found clean clothes already laid out on the bed. Someone had come in while I was in the bathroom, silent as a ghost, too efficient to be comfortable. I put on a simple T-shirt and sweatpants and sat on the edge of the bed, processing everything. That is when I saw it. In the corner of the room, discreetly leaning against the wall near a bookshelf, was a gun.
It was not hidden. It was there, visible enough for anyone who knew where to look, as if someone had left it purposely to test if I would notice. I got up and walked to it with silent steps. It was a Glock 19, well-maintained, probably loaded. I picked up the gun with automatic familiarity, felt the comfortable weight in my palm, and began to disassemble it with precise, rehearsed movements that came from years of training. Slide, spring, barrel. Each piece separated with mechanical efficiency, without thinking, just doing.
I was so focused that I did not hear the door open. I did not hear his footsteps approaching. I only realized Alexei was there when he spoke. “Do event planners usually know how to disassemble guns as part of the curriculum?” I froze. The gun was completely disassembled in my hands. The pieces were organized with military precision on the bed, and there was absolutely no way to pretend this was coincidence or luck. I had been caught completely. I turned slowly and found Alexei standing in the doorway, casually leaning against the doorframe, watching with an expression that mixed satisfaction, curiosity, and something that seemed dangerously close to admiration.
“You left the gun there on purpose.” It was not a question. “I did,” he confirmed without any shame. “I wanted to see what you would do.” “And now that you’ve seen?” Alexei entered the room with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between us until he was too close again, invading my personal space with the same naturalness as before. He picked up one of the pieces of the disassembled gun and examined it briefly before looking directly into my eyes.
“Now, I know you’re definitely not an innocent and delicate event planner.” His voice was low, warm, loaded with tension that had nothing to do with anger. “And that makes you much more interesting than I imagined, Esme.” My heart was beating too fast. And it was not from fear. It was that dangerous adrenaline that comes when you know you have just crossed a line from which there is no return. When you realize the game has changed completely, and now the rules are different.
“Who are you really?” he asked, lightly touching my face again. And this time, the touch seemed even more loaded with intention. “Someone who just saved your life,” I responded, holding his gaze without backing down. “That I already know.” His fingers slid along my jaw with deliberate slowness. “What I want to know is why, and who do you really work for?” I could lie. I should lie. But looking into his dark, intense eyes, feeling the heat emanating from his body so close to mine, realizing that the chemistry between us was about to explode into something neither of us could control, I decided to do something different.
“If I answer that,” I said quietly, “will you kill me?” Alexei smiled. And it was the first time I saw a real smile on his face. Dangerous and attractive in a way that should be illegal. “No, I’ll keep you even closer. Because dangerous women are the only ones really worth it.” And in that moment, pressed against the reality of having been discovered, feeling the tension grow between us unbearably, I realized I had fallen for the worst kind of trouble possible.
Morning came with snow still falling outside and Alexei knocking on the bedroom door at 7:00 sharp, as if sleep deprivation was part of the interrogation. I had slept poorly, not because of the bed’s comfort, which was absurdly good, but because my brain had spent the entire night processing the complete disaster my mission had become. “Breakfast,” he announced when I opened the door, and it was not an invitation. It was a summons. I followed him to the living room, where a table was set with more food than two people could eat, and Alexei was already seated, reading something on a tablet while drinking black coffee.
He wore a dark button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And the look was casually intimidating in a way that should be illegal before 8:00 in the morning. “Sit down,” he pointed to the chair in front of him without looking up from the tablet. I sat because resisting everything he said was starting to seem too exhausting. I grabbed a cup of coffee and drank in silence, waiting for him to start with what he had clearly planned for that morning.
“Esme McBride.” Alexei spoke my name as if testing its weight. “Irish event planner for three years. Worked in six different cities over the past two years. Impeccable references. Clean record.” “You investigated my resume?” I asked, feigning surprise. “I investigated your entire life.” He finally looked at me, and the intensity of those dark eyes did something strange to my stomach. “And you know what I discovered? That you’re great at what you do.” “That you’re too good at it.”
He placed the tablet on the table and leaned slightly forward. “No one changes cities that frequently unless they’re running from something or looking for something. So, which is it? Are you running or looking?” “What if I’m just taking advantage of different opportunities?” I responded, holding his gaze with the calm I had practiced for years. “Then you’re the most ambitious woman in the events business, or you’re lying.” Alexei picked up the coffee cup but did not drink. Just held it between his hands while watching me. “I’d bet on the second option.”
“Betting can be dangerous.” “I like danger.” He smiled slightly. And it was not a kind smile. It was the kind of smile a predator gives before attacking, especially when it comes packaged in high heels and strategic stumbles. He had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. Alexei Ivankov was not the head of the Russian mafia for being distracted or naive. He observed everything, analyzed everything, and probably had already formed at least three different theories about who I really was.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “No?” He got up and walked to the bar near the window, grabbing a bottle of something expensive. “So, you really stumble as much as you pretended to stumble yesterday at the party? Because from what I saw of you disassembling that gun last night, your hands have exceptional motor coordination.” Alexei returned to the table carrying two glasses and the bottle. He started pouring even though it was 7:00 in the morning as if drinking early was perfectly acceptable in his world. It probably was.
“Wine at breakfast?” I commented, trying to change the subject. “Wine during interrogations,” he corrected, pushing a glass in my direction. “Makes people more honest. Or dumber. With you, I’d bet on honest.” Alexei took a sip and watched me over the rim of the glass. “You’re too smart to get dumb from a glass of wine.” I picked up the glass but did not drink, just held it, feeling the weight of the crystal, watching the dark red liquid sway slightly.
Alexei noticed I was not drinking and raised an eyebrow with clear amusement. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked. “Would you trust you?” He laughed. It was a low, genuine laugh that completely transformed his expression for two whole seconds. “No, never.” His brutal honesty was disconcerting. Most people lied about who they were, about what they did, about their intentions. But Alexei seemed incapable of pretending when he was alone with me. As if the mask he wore for the rest of the world simply did not work here.
“Why do you do this?” I asked quietly. “Do what?” “Talk like I’m your equal when I’m clearly your prisoner.” Alexei placed the glass on the table slowly and looked at me with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. “Because you are my equal, Esme. Maybe not in power, maybe not in resources, but in everything that really matters. Yes, you think fast. You fight better than half my men. And you saved my life when it would have been strategically smarter to let me die.”
“How do you know letting you die would have been strategic?” “Because no one trains a woman to disassemble guns just so she can organize parties.” He stood up again and started walking around the table slowly like a wolf circling its prey. “So, I’m going to ask again, and this time I want the truth. Who do you work for?” My heart raced, but I kept my expression neutral. “For the Morrison and Associates event agency.” “Lie.” He stopped behind my chair and placed his hands on the backrest, too close to my head.
“Try again.” “I’m not lying.” “You are. I can see when you lie.” His voice was low, warm, dangerously close to my ear. “Your breathing changes slightly—almost imperceptible, but it changes.” I could not see his face from that angle, but I felt his presence like something physical, like radiating heat, like danger wrapped in self-control. Part of me wanted to get up and create distance. The other part, the stupid and self-destructive part, wanted to lean back and see how far that tension could grow.
“You’re paranoid.” I spoke with the firmest voice I could manage. “Paranoia keeps me alive.” Alexei finally moved away and returned to the opposite side of the table. “And instinct tells me you’re much more dangerous than you appear.” I decided to change tactics. I got up from the chair with a movement that was too abrupt, purposely tripped over my own feet, and the wine glass I was still holding flew directly toward him. The dark red liquid hit his impeccable shirt, spreading a stain that looked obscenely violent against the light fabric.
“Oh my god!” I covered my mouth with my hands in a gesture of performative horror. “I’m so sorry. I’m so clumsy. Let me help.” Alexei looked at the ruined shirt, then at me, and the expression on his face was of someone trying to decide whether to laugh or throw me out the window. He wiped the wine with his hands slowly, unhurriedly, and then started unbuttoning his shirt right there in front of me without any shame.
“You did that on purpose,” he said while removing the shirt completely and throwing it over the chair. I tried very, very hard not to look at his defined torso, at the muscles that became visible without the shirt, at the small scars that marked the pale skin and told stories of survived violence. I failed miserably. “Of course I didn’t do it on purpose,” I responded with my voice too high-pitched. “I just tripped.” “Like you trip every time you want to create a distraction or change the subject.”
“That’s not true.” “Prove it.” Alexei crossed his arms, still shirtless, still absurdly intimidating, even half-naked. “Walk over here without tripping.” It was an obvious trap. If I walked normally, I would prove the stumbles were fake. If I tripped again, I would confirm it was theater. So, I did the only thing that made sense. I continued the character to the end. I took three steps toward him, tripped again on nothing, and caught myself on the edge of the table with a performative little scream that deserved an acting award.
Alexei shook his head, but there was something very close to a smile wanting to escape his lips. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re shirtless in front of a prisoner? That doesn’t seem very professional.” “Professionalism went out the window the moment you kissed me at my own engagement party.” He was right. Professionalism had been abandoned a long time ago, and now we were navigating much more dangerous waters where normal rules simply did not apply anymore.
The penthouse door suddenly opened and one of the guards entered without warning. It was the same one who had watched me with suspicion the night of the party. A large man with an unfriendly face and zero patience for anything other than following orders. “Pakan, we need to…” He stopped upon seeing Alexei shirtless and me too close to the table. The suspicion on his face visibly increased. “Did I interrupt something?” “Nikolai.” Alexei said the name with natural authority. “Just a wine accident.”
Nikolai looked at the stained shirt, then at me, and his expression made it very clear he did not believe absolutely any of that story. He approached me with heavy steps, invading my personal space aggressively. “You,” he pointed at my face, “who really are you?” “A polite security guard.” I responded with automatic sarcasm. It was the wrong move. Nikolai grabbed me by the arm and pressed me against the wall with unnecessary force. His large hand held my wrist above my head, his body blocking any escape route.
It was basic physical intimidation, the kind of thing that worked on normal people. I was not a normal person. I used his weight against himself, twisted my wrist to break the grip, hooked my leg behind his knee, and completely threw him off balance. In two seconds, Nikolai was on his back on the floor with my knee pressing his chest and my hand holding his wrist in a twist that would immobilize anyone. Absolute silence. Nikolai looked at me with genuine shock. Alexei observed the entire scene with an expression I could not fully decipher, and I was there kneeling over the head of security with my breathing accelerated and adrenaline burning in my veins.
“Let him go,” Alexei said calmly. I let go. I got up and took two steps back, watching Nikolai rise with wounded dignity and furious eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to say something about how I was dangerous and should not be there. But Alexei raised his hand in a gesture that silenced any words before they came out. “Leave, Nikolai.” Alexei’s voice was low, but absolutely lethal. “Now.” The guard obeyed without arguing, but shot me a look that promised future trouble before closing the door forcefully.
When we were alone again, Alexei started laughing. It was a genuine laugh, loud, full of real amusement and admiration. He did not try to hide it. He walked toward me, still laughing, and when he stopped in front of me, his eyes shone with something dangerous and fascinating. “You just took down my best security guard in less than three seconds,” he said with his voice still loaded with laughter. “And you still pretend you trip on rugs.” “He provoked me,” I responded defensively. “I provoked you, too, several times. Where’s my takedown?”
The question came loaded with something that definitely was not just professional curiosity. It was provocation. It was a challenge. It was an invitation to something neither of us should be considering. “You’re different.” I spoke without thinking straight. “Different how?” Alexei took a step closer. He was just an idiot. You’re… I stopped, realizing I was about to say something very stupid. “I’m what, Esme?” He was too close now. Still shirtless. Still absurdly attractive in a way that should be illegal. “Say it.” “Dangerous.” I finally finished.
“And you like danger.” It was not a question. It was an affirmation based on precise observation. Alexei raised his hand and touched my face, this time with less testing and more genuine curiosity. As if trying to memorize every feature, every detail, every micro-expression I could not completely control around him. “You’re not as innocent as you pretend,” he said quietly. I held his gaze without backing down, without pretending, without the mask I had worn for weeks. “Depends on what you consider a sin.”
The smile that appeared on his face was slow, dangerous, completely devastating. “Sir… I thought we agreed you’d call me Alexei.” “Alexei.” I corrected, and the name came out of my mouth like an involuntary confession. He was still holding my face, his thumb lightly brushing my lower lip, his eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my heart beat erratically. He was falling. I realized in that moment with absolute and terrifying clarity. Alexei Ivankov was falling for me, and the scariest part was that I was falling with him.
“You’re lying about who you are,” he whispered. “But you’re not lying about this, about what’s happening between us.” “No,” I agreed, because denying would be useless. “I’m not.”
The next three days were slow, meticulously planned torture. And the worst part was that Alexei knew exactly what he was doing. He invaded my space constantly, always with some perfectly reasonable excuse that hid absolutely nothing about his real intentions. On the first morning, he showed up while I was having coffee and simply sat beside me instead of in the opposite chair where he had sat before. The proximity was unnecessary, deliberate, and completely effective in making me tense in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
“Sleep well?” he asked, taking my coffee cup without asking permission and drinking a sip, his eyes fixed on mine over the rim of the glass. “I’d sleep better if I wasn’t a prisoner,” I responded, trying to take the cup back, but he held it firmly. “Are you complaining about the bed? I can arrange another one.” His voice was loaded with suggestion that did not need to be said out loud. “The bed is great. The company is questionable.”
Alexei smiled and returned the cup, but when he did, his fingers brushed against mine in a completely intentional way. It was a minimal touch, but it sent an electric shock through my arm that made my stomach twist. “Questionable how?” He leaned closer, invading even more the space that was already scarce between us, like someone who clearly does not understand the concept of personal space. I tried to move away, but the chair was already against the wall, and there was nowhere to go.
“I understand the concept perfectly.” Alexei raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair from my face with deliberate slowness. “I just choose to ignore it with you.” The way he said “with you” made it seem like I was some kind of exception to his rules. And the stupid part of my brain loved that idea much more than it should. I pushed the chair back forcefully and stood up, creating physical distance that did not help at all with the tension that had already permanently settled in the air.
“I need new clothes.” I spoke, trying to change the subject. “The ones you provided are all too revealing.” “They’re normal clothes, Esme.” He stood up too slowly as if he had all the time in the world. “If they seem revealing, it’s because you’re hyper-aware of how I look at you. You’re impossible, and you’re running away again.” Alexei blocked my path when I tried to leave the room. “Every time the conversation gets interesting, you invent an excuse to pull away.”
“Because you’re not interrogating. You’re flirting.” I threw the truth in his face without filter. “I can do both.” He touched my chin again, that gesture that was becoming dangerously familiar. “I’m a multitasker.” I pulled my face away from his hand and ducked under his arm, creating space between us before I did something completely stupid like lean into that touch. I needed air, distance, anything that would help me think straight without his overwhelming presence confusing all my instincts.
“I’m going to change.” I announced, heading toward the bedroom. “Great,” he responded with a voice too casual. “I’ll take you to see the mansion after.” I stopped and looked back. “Am I authorized to leave the penthouse?” “Under supervision.” Alexei leaned against the table and crossed his arms, watching with that intensity that made it seem like he could see through every layer of clothing. “My supervision, specifically, of course, because letting any other guard supervise me would be too far from his control.”
And Alexei Ivankov clearly had serious issues with letting anything out of his absolute control. I went to the bedroom and changed quickly, choosing the least provocative piece I could find in the closet that had been providentially filled with clothes in my size. When I returned, Alexei was still in the same place, but now he had a shirt on and was looking at his phone with a serious expression. “Problems?” I asked, even though I knew it was not my business.
He put away his phone and looked at me. And the way his eyes traveled over my body from top to bottom should be illegal, but nothing you need to worry about. “Because I’m just the prisoner, because you already have enough problems trying to keep your charade working.” Alexei approached and stopped too close again, making this an annoying habit and failing miserably, I should add. He offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture completely contradictory to everything he represented. And I looked at the extended arm as if it were a trap. It probably was.
“I won’t bite, Esme,” he said with clear amusement in his voice. “At least not without warning first.” I took his arm because refusing would give ammunition for more provocations, and we left the penthouse together in a silence loaded with unresolved tension. The mansion’s corridors were opulent in a way that screamed old money and consolidated power. And with every person we passed, the looks were of curiosity mixed with poorly disguised fear.
“They’re afraid of you.” I observed quietly. “They’re afraid of what I represent,” Alexei corrected. “Absolute power over lives and deaths. It’s a heavy responsibility.” “You seem to enjoy it.” “I enjoy the efficiency it brings.” He stopped in front of a huge door and opened it, revealing an office that looked like something out of a Russian mafia movie. “But I don’t enjoy the loneliness.” The confession came out so naturally that for a second I thought I had heard wrong.
Alexei Ivankov admitting loneliness seemed as out of context as him admitting weakness. And both were things that men in his position never did publicly. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, entering the office behind him. “Because you’re alone, too.” He closed the door and leaned against the huge desk, watching me with disturbing attention. “I saw it in your eyes the first second we met. I recognized it.” “You don’t know me.” “Not yet,” Alexei agreed. “But I will. Every secret, every lie, every hidden truth. I’m going to find out everything about you, Esme McBride.”
The way he said my name with that soft Russian accent on the edges did something strange in my chest. I should be scared by his promise to find out everything, but instead I felt a dangerous mix of anticipation and desire that made no sense. The office door opened without warning, and a woman entered with confident steps and a furious expression. Ekatarina Petrov was even more beautiful in daylight than she had been at the party. And the hatred in her eyes when she saw me was so palpable it practically burned.
“So it’s true,” she said, looking from me to Alexei with barely contained contempt. “You’re keeping the woman who ruined our engagement as a pet.” “Watch your words, Ekatarina.” Alexei spoke with a dangerously calm voice. “Esme is my guest.” “Guest?” Ekatarina laughed bitterly. “Is that what we call prisoners now?” I could have stayed quiet. I could have let Alexei deal with his furious ex-fiancee, but my mouth had a life of its own and clearly did not understand the concept of self-preservation.
“If I ruined your engagement,” I spoke with studied calm, “maybe it’s because you were too busy trying to poison him to notice that marriages work better when both parties are alive.” The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ekatarina went pale, then red, and then lunged toward me with her hands in claw formation. Alexei pulled me behind him in an instinctive protective movement, completely blocking her access to me.
“No,” his voice was an absolute order. “You don’t touch her.” “She just accused me of attempted murder!” Ekatarina screamed with a shrill voice. “And did you or didn’t you?” Alexei asked with deadly calm. The question caught her off guard. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and finally managed to form words. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Liar.” I spoke from behind Alexei. “I saw you switching the glasses.”
Ekatarina looked at me with pure, distilled hatred. But there was something else there, something that seemed almost like desperation. She did not deny it with the vehemence an innocent person would deny, just kept her expression closed and her fists clenched at her sides. “Leave,” Alexei said, pointing to the door. “Now.” “You choose her over me?” Ekatarina asked with a trembling voice. “After everything that was planned, after all the agreements?” “I choose not to die poisoned,” Alexei responded coldly. “And I choose to find out exactly who’s behind this before making any decisions about marriages or alliances.”
Ekatarina left, slamming the door hard enough to make the pictures on the walls shake. And the silence that remained after her departure was too heavy to be comfortable. Alexei turned to me and the expression on his face was of someone trying to decide whether to thank me or strangle me. “You really don’t know how to stay quiet, do you?” he said with what seemed to be reluctant admiration. “She indirectly called you an idiot. I thought I should defend your honor.”
“My honor?” Alexei laughed softly. “Esme, I’m the head of the Russian mafia. Honor is a word that rarely applies to what I do.” “Then why didn’t you kill her?” I asked with genuine curiosity. “She clearly tried to kill you in your world. Doesn’t that deserve immediate execution?” Alexei walked to the huge window that overlooked the snow-covered gardens below and stood there with his hands in his pockets, observing something I could not see.
“Because she was manipulated,” he said finally. “Ekatarina is ambitious and proud, but she’s not stupid. Someone convinced her that killing was the only option to maintain power. I need to find out who.” His cold, calculating analysis of the assassination attempt was disturbing and impressive at the same time. Alexei did not act on emotion. He acted on strategy. And that made him much more dangerous than any person driven by anger or revenge.
“What if it’s just her?” I provoked. “What if no one manipulated her and she genuinely wanted to kill you?” “Then I’ll deal with it when I’m certain.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “But my instinct says there’s someone else in this story. Someone pulling strings behind the scenes.” The door opened again, this time more politely, and a man entered carrying a leather briefcase. He was older than Alexei, maybe in his early forties, with graying hair at the temples and intelligent eyes that analyzed me with calculating interest.
“Pakan.” The man greeted Alexei with formal respect before looking at me. “And this must be the famous savior, Esme. Right?” “Right.” I responded, keeping my expression neutral. “Mikail Orof.” He extended his hand and I shook it firmly enough to show I was not fragile, but not so much as to seem defiant. “I’ve been Alexei’s personal adviser for ten years.” “Consigliere,” Alexei corrected. “Mikail prefers the Italian terms.”
Mikail smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. There was something about him that bothered me, something my instinct screamed not to trust, but I could not identify exactly what. “Am I interrupting something?” Mikail asked, looking from me to Alexei with poorly disguised curiosity. “Just showing our guest the mansion,” Alexei responded, walking to the desk and picking up some documents. “Do you need something?” “I wanted to discuss the implications of the incident from the night of the party.”
Mikail looked at me again. “But if you prefer privacy, Esme…” “Esme can stay,” Alexei said with a naturalness that surprised both me and Mikail. “She was there. She knows as much as we do.” The distrust on Mikail’s face visibly increased. “You’re trusting her already? We barely know her.” “She saved my life,” Alexei spoke with a voice that did not allow questions. “That counts as enough of a reference.”
Mikail did not seem convinced, but he did not argue. He opened the briefcase and started talking about broken alliances, about rival families that could have taken advantage of the party’s opportunity to attack, and about possible suspects. But while he talked, his eyes returned to me repeatedly, analyzing, calculating, and measuring whether I was a threat or an opportunity. I stayed quiet during the conversation, observing the dynamic between Alexei and Mikail, noticing how the adviser had ready answers for everything.
How he subtly directed suspicions away from certain people and toward others. It was subtle manipulation, the kind that only someone trained to notice could identify. When Mikail left, Alexei turned to me with a curious expression. “What did you think of him? Your adviser?” I chose my words carefully. “He’s efficient.” But Alexei insisted because he had clearly noticed my hesitation. “But he doesn’t like me.” “Mikail doesn’t like changes.” Alexei approached again, invading my space with the same annoying naturalness as before. “And you, Esme McBride, are definitely a change.”
The way he looked at me, as if I were something fascinating and dangerous at the same time, made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the original mission. I was getting emotionally involved, and that definitely was not in the plan. “I need to go back to the bedroom.” I spoke, trying to create distance before I did something stupid. “Running away again?” Alexei whispered near my ear. And the warmth of his breath against my skin did something dangerous to my stomach.
“Protecting myself,” I corrected, turning my face to look at him. And it was a mistake because now we were too close, breathing the same air with the tension between us about to explode. “From me?” He touched my face again, his thumb brushing my lower lip with gentle pressure. “From myself,” I admitted with honesty that surprised us both. Alexei smiled, and it was the kind of smile that melted resistance and broke all the defenses I had built during years of training. He was falling, and I was falling with him, and we both knew that when we hit the ground, the impact would be devastating.
Four days had passed since the meeting with Mikail, and the tension between me and Alexei had reached unsustainable levels. He continued invading my space, touching my face with that familiarity that should not exist between a mafia boss and his prisoner. And I continued pretending it did not affect every nerve in my body. On the morning of the fifth day, Alexei appeared in the bedroom with a serious expression that immediately put me on alert. He wore an impeccable dark suit and had that air of someone about to do something dangerous and who did not have time for games.
“Wear something comfortable,” he said without preamble. “You’re coming with me.” “Going where?” I asked, sitting on the bed and watching as he checked the gun he carried in the holster under his jacket. “Business meeting.” Alexei looked at me with an expression that did not allow discussion. “And before you ask, no, you’re not staying here alone. I don’t trust leaving you unsupervised because you think I’ll run away, because I know you’ll try.”
He approached and held my chin firmly, forcing our eyes to meet. “And because there are people in this mansion who would love to use you as a bargaining chip if I’m not around.” The veiled concern in his voice was disconcerting. Alexei Ivankov should not worry about a prisoner’s safety, but there he was, making it very clear that my protection mattered more than it should. I dressed in dark pants and a long-sleeved blouse, clothes that would allow movement if needed.
And when I left the bedroom, Alexei looked me up and down with approval that warmed my skin in an inconvenient way. “Better,” he said simply. We went down to the garage where three identical black cars waited with engines running. Nikolai was beside the middle car, still looking at me with suspicion since the incident where I had immobilized him, and around there were at least six other guards armed to the teeth. “Full security protocol,” I commented as Alexei opened the rear door of the car for me.
“Always.” He got in after me and tapped on the partition glass, signaling the driver to go. “Especially after someone tried to kill me at my own party.” The cars left in a perfect convoy. Hour in the middle, protected by the other two. Moscow paraded past the window in shades of gray and white. The snow accumulated on the sidewalks, creating a strong contrast with the dark buildings. Alexei was tense beside me, constantly checking his phone, and his tension was contagious.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked after fifteen minutes of silence. “Warehouse in the industrial district.” He responded without taking his eyes off his phone. “Territory negotiation with a smaller faction that wants to expand operations.” “Sounds dangerous.” “Everything I do is dangerous, Esme.” Alexei finally looked at me, and there was something different in his eyes. Something that seemed almost like fear, disguised as caution.
“But I have you to save me if something goes wrong, don’t I?” The joke came out forced, and we both knew there was truth beneath the humor. He was taking me into a potentially deadly situation because he trusted I would not let him die. And that trust was both touching and absolutely insane. The convoy turned onto a narrower side street lined with abandoned buildings and dirty snow accumulated in the gutters. That is when I realized something was wrong. Very wrong.
There were no other cars, no pedestrians, and the silence was too heavy to be natural. “Alexei,” I started to speak, but the explosion cut off my words. The front car exploded in an orange and black fireball, debris flying in all directions, twisted metal raining on our car’s hood. Our driver braked abruptly. But before he could reverse, the car behind also exploded, completely blocking our escape route. “Ambush!” Nikolai shouted from the front seat, already with his gun in hand.
Alexei pushed me down under the seat forcefully, covering my body with his while the first shots started hitting the car. The bulletproof glass held, but cracks began to form with each projectile impact. “How many?” Alexei shouted to Nikolai while pulling out his own gun. “At least ten,” Nikolai responded. “Elevated positions in the buildings. This was planned.” Of course, it was planned. Someone knew exactly where we would pass. Knew the security protocol. Knew everything.
Internal betrayal. The certainty settled in my stomach like a cold stone. “We need to get out of the car.” I shouted from under Alexei. “We’re sitting targets here.” He looked at me with an expression that mixed surprise and something like respect. “You know how to fight better than you imagine?” I responded with raw honesty. Alexei hesitated for two seconds before making a decision. He pulled a second gun from his ankle holster and placed it in my hand firmly.
“Don’t disappoint me.” The familiar weight of the gun in my palm was like coming home after weeks of pretending to be someone I was not. I automatically checked the magazine. Locked, unlocked, adjusted the grip. Alexei’s eyes widened, seeing the professional movements, but there was no time for explanations. “On three,” Nikolai shouted, holding the door handle. “One, two, three.”
The doors opened simultaneously, and we got out in defensive formation. I rolled behind the car, using the chassis as cover, and began assessing the shooters’ positions with a trained eye that came from years of military preparation. Three in the building on the left, two on the right, at least four on the street. I fired. The first shooter fell before understanding what had happened. The second tried to reposition and took a shot to the shoulder that took him out of combat. I did not aim to kill when I could avoid it, but I aimed to neutralize with lethal efficiency.
“What the…” I heard Nikolai shout upon seeing my precision. I did not have time to care about his surprise. Alexei was fighting two men who had managed to get close during the gunfight. And even though he was clearly skilled, he was at a numerical disadvantage. I moved without thinking, crossing the three meters separating us in seconds, and used the gun butt to hit the back of one attacker’s neck. The man fell, and the other turned to me furiously, a huge knife in his hand.
He lunged and I dodged, grabbed his wrist, twisted hard enough to hear something break, and used his own momentum to throw him against the car. The impact was brutal, and he slid unconscious to the ground. Sudden silence. The shots had stopped. The remaining attackers had fled upon realizing the ambush had failed, and around us there were only wounded bodies, destruction, and smoke coming from the burning cars.
I turned and found Alexei staring at me with an expression I could not decipher. It was not fear. It was not exactly surprise. It was something deeper and much more complicated. He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time, as if every layer of lies had finally fallen and revealed who I really was. “Who the hell are you?” he asked with his voice low and dangerous. “Later,” I responded, observing the still-empty streets. “We need to get out of here before they come back with reinforcements.”
Nikolai approached, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, but clearly alive. “She’s right, Pakan. This was coordinated. Someone sold us out.” Alexei looked around, processing the entire scene with that sharp intelligence that made him so dangerous. His gaze stopped on something on the ground and he walked over there, picking up a half-burned piece of paper that had flown from one of the destroyed cars.
“This was with them.” He showed the paper. It was a diagram of our route with precise markings of where to place explosives and where to position shooters. Someone gave all the information. “Did Mikail know about the meeting?” I asked, even though I already suspected the answer. Alexei became very quiet. “He organized the meeting.” “And Ekatarina?” Nikolai asked. “Did she know?” “She was at the mansion when we left.” Alexei carefully tucked away the paper. “She saw everything.”
That is when we realized a figure was coming out of one of the buildings, limping slightly, holding her arm as if injured. When she got close enough for us to recognize her, Nikolai raised his gun instantly. Ekatarina Petrov was covered in soot and blood, her dress torn in several places, but alive and conscious. She looked at us with an expression that mixed fear and relief, and raised her hands trembling. “Don’t shoot!” she screamed. “I didn’t… I didn’t know it would be like this.”
Alexei walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, gun still in his hand, his expression completely empty of any emotion. “You were here.” “They forced me.” Ekatarina had tears running down her dirty face. “Mikail said it was just to scare you, to show you needed me. My father’s family. He didn’t say it would be this.” The confession dropped like a bomb. Mikail Orof, the loyal adviser of ten years, had set this all up. The poisoning attempt at the party, the ambush. Now, maybe many more things we still did not know.
“Where is he?” Alexei asked with an icy voice. “I don’t know.” Ekatarina sobbed. “He left me here. Told me to confirm if you were dead.” Alexei raised the gun and pointed it at her head. I saw his fingers firm on the trigger. Saw the decision forming in his cold eyes, and I moved without thinking. I placed my hand over his gun, lowering it slightly. “Don’t.” I spoke low just for him to hear. “She was used. You said that before. The real enemy is Mikail.”
Alexei looked at me and in that moment I saw the internal struggle happening. The part of him that was pure survival instinct, wanting to eliminate any threat, and the part that still had fragments of humanity hesitating to kill someone who had been manipulated. He lowered the gun slowly. “Nikolai, take her to the mansion, locked up under total surveillance.” Nikolai obeyed, grabbing Ekatarina by the arm and dragging her toward the only car that still partially functioned.
When we were alone among the wreckage, Alexei finally turned completely to me. “Now,” he said, pointing the gun in my direction with deadly calm, “we’re going to have that conversation about who the hell you really are.” My heart raced, but I kept my hands visible and my posture non-threatening. “Alexei, you fight like a trained soldier,” he interrupted. “You shoot with military precision. You move like someone who spent years in combat, and yet you were pretending to be a clumsy event planner.”
“I can explain.” “Then explain.” His voice came out louder, loaded with betrayal and barely contained anger. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you’ve been infiltrated here for a long time.” There was no denying it. There was no going back. I took a deep breath and decided that the truth was the only option left. Even knowing it could cost me my life. “You’re right,” I admitted, looking directly into his eyes. “I was infiltrated.”
The pain that crossed his face was physical. Alexei took two steps back as if my words had been a punch to the stomach, and the gun in his hand trembled slightly. “How long?” “Started before the party. I was sent to observe, to report your operations.” “Your movements. Sent by whom?” he asked, and his voice was dangerously low. I hesitated because revealing this was crossing a line from which there was no return. But looking at Alexei, seeing the betrayal stamped on every line of his face, I knew that more lies would only completely destroy whatever had started to grow between us.
“By the famiglia Marchetti,” I spoke the name that had been kept secret during all those months. “I’m Giovanni Marchetti’s daughter from the Italian mafia.” The silence that followed was deafening. Alexei looked at me as if he had never seen me before, as if every shared moment had been contaminated by the revelation. The gun was still pointed at me, but his fingers trembled slightly on the trigger. “You deceived me,” he said finally. “From the very first second.”
“Yes. I didn’t deny, because denying would be useless. The kiss, saving my life—everything was part of the disguise.” “No,” I responded urgently, taking a step toward him, even with the gun still pointed. “Saving you was real. The kiss was real. Everything that happened after was real, Alexei.” “How can I believe anything you say?” His voice was broken, divided between anger and something that seemed painfully close to hurt. “You can’t,” I admitted with brutal honesty. “But I’ll tell you anyway. I switched sides. The mission was to spy on you and report. But when I saw that glass, when I realized you would die, the only thing that mattered was keeping you alive. Everything changed in that moment.”
Alexei lowered the gun slowly, but his expression remained closed, impenetrable. “You’re the daughter of the rival Italian mafia. You were trained for this. Born for this.” “I was,” I agreed, “but I didn’t choose that path, and I can choose to leave it.” “Choose?” He laughed bitterly. “No one chooses to leave the mafia, Esme. You know that better than anyone.” He was right. And we both knew that the revelation had changed everything irreversibly. We were no longer the boss and the prisoner with inconvenient chemistry. We were enemies from rival families, separated by blood loyalties and ancient wars. But when our eyes met in the middle of the smoking wreckage, with danger still lurking in the shadows around us, the only thing I saw on his face was not hatred. It was pain, pure and raw. And that is what broke my heart completely.
The drive back to the mansion was made in absolute silence. Alexei did not speak a word, just looked out the window with an empty expression while the single functioning car carried us through the streets of Moscow. Nikolai drove with attention divided between the road and the rearview mirror where he watched the boss with clear concern. I was sitting on the opposite side of the back seat, the maximum distance I could create within the confined space, and every second of that silence weighed like lead on my chest.
Alexei had put away his gun, but that did not mean the anger had diminished. It just meant he had enough control not to kill me right there. When we arrived at the mansion, he got out of the car without looking back and walked straight inside with quick, furious steps. I followed because I had no choice, because I was still technically his prisoner, and because I desperately needed him to understand that saving his life had been real, even if everything else had been a lie.
Alexei went straight to the penthouse, completely ignoring the guards who tried to talk to him about the ambush, about the wounded, and about the need for an emergency meeting. He just raised his hand in a gesture that instantly silenced everyone and continued going up. When we entered the penthouse and the door closed behind us, the silence became even more oppressive. Alexei walked to the bar, poured a generous glass of vodka, drank it all at once, and then threw the empty glass against the wall forcefully. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces that fell to the floor like crystalline rain.
“Three months,” he said with a dangerously controlled voice, still with his back to me. “You pretended to be someone else for three months.” “Yes.” I did not try to deny or soften it. “You reported my every move, every meeting, every weakness.” Alexei finally turned around, and the pain in his eyes was physical. “You studied me like a lab animal.” “At first,” I admitted, feeling my own chest tighten. “But I stopped.” “When? When?” He interrupted with his voice rising. “When you realized you had infiltrated so well that the idiot mafia boss was starting to trust you?”
“When I realized I was falling in love.” I threw the truth in his face without filter, without protection, completely exposed. Alexei froze. The words seemed to hit him with physical force. And he took two steps back, leaning his hands on the table behind him as if he needed support to keep from falling. “Don’t say that.” His voice came out hoarse. “Don’t you dare say that after everything you did.” “But it’s true.”
I approached him slowly, testing how far I could get before he pushed me away. “Alexei, I was sent to spy. That’s true. But when I saw that glass, when I realized you would die, I didn’t think about the mission. I thought about you—only you.” “You betrayed me,” he said with a broken voice. And in those three words, there was an entire world of hurt. “I kissed you to save your life,” I responded, stopping just one step away from him. “And I kept saving you today. You think I’d do that if it didn’t matter?”
Alexei looked at me with an intensity that burned. His dark eyes traveled over every feature of my face as if searching for some evidence of more lies. His hands trembled slightly on the edges of the table, his fingers gripping the wood hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “How can I trust you?” he asked. And it was not rhetorical. It was genuine, desperate. “How can I look at you and know that anything you say is true?”
“You can’t.” I took another step, now so close I could feel his heat. “But I can prove it. Let me prove it.” “How?” The word came out almost like a plea. “Mikail is betraying you.” I spoke quickly. “He manipulated Ekatarina. Set up the ambush. Probably is planning to take your place. I can help you find out everything. I can use my contacts. My family. Everything I know.” “Your family.” Alexei laughed bitterly. “The Italian mafia that probably wants to see me dead as much as Mikail does.”
“Not necessarily.” I argued. “You know this world. Alliances change. Enemies become partners when there’s common interest.” He shook his head, his breathing coming heavy and irregular. “You don’t understand what you’re asking. If I trust you and you betray me again, there won’t be a second chance. I kill you without hesitation.” “I know.” I slowly extended my hand and touched his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under my palm, and I added, “I accept the risk.”
Alexei grabbed my hand forcefully, but not to push it away. He just held it there, pressed against his chest, as if trying to decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. I saw the internal struggle happening in his eyes. Every muscle tense with the conflict between reason and emotion. “You’re going to destroy me,” he whispered. “One way or another, you’re going to be my ruin, or I’ll be your salvation,” I responded with the same intensity.
The silence that followed was loaded with so much unresolved desire that the air seemed to vibrate. Alexei raised his free hand and touched my face with fingers that trembled slightly, tracing the line of my jaw with a gentleness that brutally contrasted with the anger still burning in his eyes. “You’re absurdly dangerous,” he murmured. “And you’re absurdly bossy,” I returned, trying to ease the tension with humor, however weak.
Alexei almost smiled. Almost. His lips curved slightly before returning to their tense line. He pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes tightly, his breath warm against my skin. “I don’t want to forgive you,” he confessed with a low, broken voice. “I want to be furious. I want to hate you for deceiving me.” “Then hate me,” I whispered back. “But don’t send me away.” His hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers intertwining in my hair with pressure that bordered on painful, but somehow felt desperately necessary.
We stayed like that for long seconds, foreheads together, breaths mixing. The entire world was reduced to that minimal space between our bodies. “You betrayed me,” he repeated. But this time it sounded less like an accusation and more like a lament. “I kissed you to save your life.” I responded with the same words as before, but now loaded with all the accumulated emotional weight. “And I’d do it again—a thousand times—even knowing the consequences.”
Alexei opened his eyes and looked at me from so close I could see every golden fleck in his dark iris, every accelerated blink of his eyelids, every micro-expression that revealed the internal chaos he felt. “You’re asking me to choose to trust you,” he said slowly. “Even knowing who you are, even knowing where you come from.” “I am.” I confirmed without looking away. “This goes against every survival instinct I have. I know it could cost me everything.” “I know that, too.”
Alexei pulled my face closer, his lips brushing mine with pressure so light it seemed like deliberate torture. “If you betray me again, I won’t survive. Not emotionally. You understand? You’ve become the only vulnerability I can’t eliminate.” His words were confession and threat at the same time, and my heart was beating so fast it seemed about to explode. I raised my hands and held his face, forcing him to keep his eyes fixed on mine.
“I won’t betray you,” I promised with every ounce of conviction I had. “I switched sides in that kiss, Alexei, and I’m not going back.” He watched me for a few more interminable seconds before finally, finally making a decision. Alexei pulled me close forcefully, completely eliminating the space between our bodies, and held me as if he were holding the only thing that mattered in the world.
“You’re absurdly mine,” he said against my hair, his voice loaded with possessiveness and acceptance mixed together. “Italian, spy, liar. Doesn’t matter. You’re mine.” “And you’re absurdly bossy.” I responded with a laugh that came out half-choked with relief and emotion. I felt the vibration of his laughter against my body. Brief but genuine. “You’re going to have to get used to it.” “Never,” I promised, looking at him. “I’ll challenge every order you give.”
“I know.” Alexei smiled. And this time it was a real smile that completely transformed his face. “That’s why you’re perfect.” He kissed me. Not as strategy, not as salvation, but as choice, as promise, as mutual surrender to something neither of us could control anymore. The kiss was intense, loaded with all the accumulated tension. All the anger transformed into desire. All the fear converted into need. When we separated, both breathing heavily, Alexei pressed his forehead to mine again and whispered something in Russian that I did not fully understand, but that sounded like a vow and a curse at the same time.
“What does it mean?” I asked quietly. “That I’m officially the most idiotic man in Moscow,” he responded with irony. “Because I’m choosing to trust the daughter of the Italian mafia who spent three months deceiving me.” “Or the bravest,” I suggested. “Brave or suicidal? The line is very thin.” Alexei brushed a strand of hair from my face. “But I don’t regret it. Not yet.” We stayed like that, intertwined in the middle of the penthouse, surrounded by the shards of broken glass and the consequences of everything that had been revealed. Outside, Mikail was scheming. Ekatarina was locked up somewhere in the mansion, and a war was forming in the shadows. But in that moment, with Alexei finally choosing to trust me despite everything, I felt that maybe we had a chance to survive what would come next together.
The next morning came with Alexei waking me too early, already dressed and with a serious expression that promised nothing good. He had spent the night on the living room couch, maintaining physical distance even after everything that had been said, as if still processing the decision to trust me. “Get dressed,” he said from the bedroom door. “We’re going to interrogate Ekatarina together.”
“Together?” I repeated, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes. “You’re good at reading people.” Alexei leaned against the doorframe. “I want you to observe. Tell me if she’s lying.” It was a test. Obviously, it was a test. He was giving me an opportunity to prove loyalty, to show I had really switched sides. I dressed quickly and followed him to the lower levels of the mansion where the areas no one mentioned out loud were located. The places where people were kept when they needed to be convinced to cooperate.
Ekatarina was in a small room, but not exactly a cell. There was a bed, a chair, even a small window with bars. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing the same dirty and torn clothes from the day before. Her blonde hair was disheveled, falling over her pale face. When we entered, she raised her eyes, and the hatred she threw at me was so intense I could almost feel it physically. “Herina…” she spat the word like poison. “Why the hell is she here?”
“Because I wanted her here,” Alexei responded with a voice that did not allow discussion. “And you’re going to answer questions.” “All of them.” Ekatarina stood up, her hands closed in fists at her sides. “Answer to the man who almost killed me yesterday? To the man who chose this over me?” “Careful,” Alexei said quietly. But there was a clear threat in the words.
“Or what?” Ekatarina took two steps toward me, defiant. “You’ll kill me now in front of your new little pet?” Something inside me snapped. I spent three months pretending to be docile. Three more days being provoked and tested. And now this woman who had tried to poison Alexei was calling me a pet. As if she had any moral right over anything. “Say that again.” I spoke with deadly calm. “Please say it again.”
Ekatarina smiled cruelly. “Little pet. That’s what you are. An obedient little dog following the…” I did not let her finish. I crossed the distance between us in two steps and landed a punch directly to her face. It was not a slap from an offended woman. It was a real punch with full force behind it. The kind I learned in years of combat training. Ekatarina’s head turned to the side from the impact and she staggered but did not fall. She was stronger than she looked.
When she turned back to me, there was blood running from her lip and murderous fury in her light eyes. She screamed and launched herself at me with her hands stretched toward my hair. She managed to grab some strands and pulled with brutal force, making my head turn to the side. I used her momentum against herself, spun, and landed an elbow to her ribs. The air left her lungs in a painful “oof.” But she did not let me go. We fell to the floor, intertwined, rolling, punching, scratching.
Ekatarina fought like someone who had grown up in a violent environment. All fury and instinct without much technique. I fought like a trained soldier, but she compensated for lack of technique with pure rage. “You ruined everything,” she screamed while trying to hit me again. “He was mine. The power was mine.” I blocked the punch and rolled on top of her, immobilizing her arms. “He was never yours. You tried to kill him because Mikail said it was the only way.”
Ekatarina screamed back, and there were tears mixed with blood on her face. “He said Alexei would discard me after the wedding, that I’d just be decoration, that women never have real power here.” Her words made me hesitate for a fraction of a second. It was enough for Ekatarina to manage to turn and push me, switching positions. Now she was on top, her hands around my neck, squeezing.
“You think you’re different?” she whispered with a voice loaded with hatred and pain. “Think he’ll treat you differently? You’re just his new entertainment. The next idiot who’ll believe she matters.” “Ekatarina, stop!” Alexei finally intervened, pulling her by the shoulders and separating us forcefully. I got up, panting, wiping blood from my nose that I did not know if it was mine or hers, watching Ekatarina being held by Alexei’s arms while still trying to break free to attack me again.
“He manipulated you,” I screamed back. “Mikail manipulated you from the beginning. Don’t you see?” “I see very well.” Ekatarina suddenly stopped fighting, her body going limp in Alexei’s hands. “I see that men like Mikail and like Alexei use women as chess pieces. It’s always been like this. It always will be.” “No.” Alexei released her carefully. “Not always.”
Ekatarina laughed bitterly, wiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand. “You’re going to pretend you’re different now? That you weren’t using me for political alliance? That the marriage was about something beyond territory and power?” “I never pretended it was for love,” Alexei responded with brutal honesty. “But I also never planned to discard you. You would be a partner, Ekatarina. You’d have a voice. You’d have real power in the organization.”
“Lies.” She spat blood on the floor. “Mikail showed me the documents, the agreements. I’d just be a wife on paper without real access to anything important.” Something cold passed over Alexei’s face. “What documents?” “The marriage ones. The terms.” Ekatarina looked at him with an expression of someone finally starting to understand something. “You… You didn’t see them. Mikail took care of all the paperwork.”
Alexei spoke slowly, processing. “He said they were standard terms. I trusted him.” The silence that formed was heavy. I looked from Alexei to Ekatarina and saw the same realization settling on both their faces. Mikail had manipulated them both. He had shown false documents to Ekatarina, had hidden real terms from Alexei, and had created division and hatred where there could have been real partnership.
“He lied,” Ekatarina whispered, the fury in her eyes slowly transforming into horrified understanding. “To me, to you, to both of us.” “From the beginning,” I agreed, my own anger at Mikail growing every second. “Because men like him thrive when women like us are busy fighting each other instead of realizing who the real enemy is.”
Ekatarina looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time since we met. Not with hatred, not with jealousy, but with something like reluctant recognition. “You fought well,” she admitted, wiping more blood. “For an event planner.” “You too,” I responded. “For a decorative bride.” Something almost like a smile touched her bruised lips. “I hate you.” “The feeling remains reciprocal,” I assured her. “But I hate Mikail more.”
Ekatarina straightened her shoulders. “Much more.” Alexei watched the exchange with an expression that mixed surprise and something that seemed dangerously close to pride. He walked to the table in the corner of the room and pulled out a folder he had brought with him. “These are the real marriage terms.” He opened them and showed Ekatarina the ones I negotiated with your father: co-leadership position in two sectors. Full access to strategic meetings. Equal voice in territory decisions.
Ekatarina took the documents with trembling hands and read quickly, her eyes widening with each paragraph. “This is… this is real power.” “That was the deal.” Alexei confirmed. “Mikail altered everything, showed you a fake version so you’d believe you’d be discarded. And then convinced me the only solution was…” Ekatarina did not finish, but she did not need to. We all knew how the sentence would end. Kill Alexei, assume the role of inheriting widow, and then be advised by Mikail until he consolidated total control.
“I completed the reasoning.” “He used you as a weapon, as a piece.” Ekatarina corrected with a venomous voice. “Exactly what he said Alexei would do to me.” The irony was brutal. Mikail had used Ekatarina’s legitimate fears about structural sexism in the mafia to manipulate her into doing exactly what would benefit him while pretending to be on her side.
“Where is he now?” I asked, looking at Alexei. “Disappeared since the ambush,” he responded with a tense jaw. “Nikolai is searching, but Mikail knows all our escape routes, all the hideouts. He’s been preparing this for a while.” “How long?” Ekatarina asked. “Years, probably,” I responded before Alexei could. “This kind of betrayal doesn’t get built in weeks. He was waiting for the right opportunity and I gave it to him.”
Ekatarina closed her eyes tightly. “I was an idiot. Completely an idiot.” “You were manipulated.” I corrected. “There’s a difference.” “There isn’t.” She opened her eyes and looked directly at me for the first time because I chose to believe him instead of questioning. I chose the easy path of anger instead of the difficult one of verification. Her brutal self-criticism was unexpected and something like respect started to form in my chest.
Ekatarina Petrov was not a passive victim. She was an intelligent woman who had been thrown into a system designed to make her fail and had made bad choices based on false information. “Mikail will try again.” Alexei said, looking out the small window. “He’s consolidating power as we speak, turning my own men against me.” “Then we need to turn the game around.” I spoke. “Use his weapons against him.”
Ekatarina stood up, cleaning her face more carefully. “Agreed. But how?” I looked from one to the other, feeling pieces clicking together in my head. “Mikail underestimates women. That’s his fundamental flaw. He thinks we’re all easy pieces to manipulate.” “So,” Ekatarina crossed her arms. “So, he’ll never expect us to work together.” I smiled slowly, much less that we’d plan to take him down.
Alexei looked at me with renewed intensity. “You have a plan.” “I have the beginning of one,” I admitted, “but it’s going to require both of you trusting me completely.” “I trust you,” Alexei said without hesitation. And the warmth those words brought to my chest was dangerous. Ekatarina hesitated longer, observing me with critical attention. Finally, she extended her hand. “I hate to admit it, but you fought beside him in the ambush. You could have run. You didn’t?”
I shook her hand, feeling her fingers still trembling with adrenaline. “And you could have let Mikail kill me. You confessed instead.” “So, we’re doing this?” She asked. Two women who hate each other working together. Three people Mikail underestimated. I corrected, looking at Alexei. “And that’s going to be his ruin.” Alexei smiled, and it was the kind of dangerous smile that promised bloody revenge. “I like how you think.”
“Me, too,” Ekatarina admitted reluctantly. “I still hate you.” “The feeling remains reciprocal,” I assured her. “But we can hate each other after we destroy Mikail.” The three most unlikely people in Moscow had just formed an alliance, and Mikail Orof had no idea of the nightmare that was about to fall on him.
Alexei discovered the plan that Ekatarina and I were putting together completely by accident. We were not planning to hide it from him exactly, but we also were not in a hurry to tell him before we had all the details worked out. Unfortunately, he entered the small meeting room we had requisitioned and found us hunched over a city map, marking strategic points where Mikail could be hiding. The silence that formed when he stopped at the door was heavy enough to crush stones. I looked up and found Alexei with an expression that mixed shock, anger, and something that seemed dangerously close to betrayal.
“What?” he said with a low, lethal voice. “The hell is happening here?” Ekatarina straightened and crossed her arms, not intimidated at all. “We’re planning how to find Mikail.” “We…” Alexei repeated the word as if it were poison. “You two working together without consulting me?” “We were going to tell you,” I started to explain, but he cut me off with a sharp gesture of his hand. “When? After you’d already decided everything?” his voice rose in volume. “After you’d made plans behind my back?”
“It’s not behind your back,” I argued, maintaining calm even though I felt his anger filling the room. “It’s to help you.” “I don’t need help.” Alexei slammed his hand on the table hard enough to make the markers jump. “Much less from you two pretending you know how to deal with Mikail.” “Pretending?” Ekatarina took a step toward him, her eyes shining dangerously. “I lived with that man for months. I know how he thinks.” “And you?” Alexei pointed at me with an accusatory finger. “Tried to poison me less than a week ago. Why the hell would I trust any plan of yours?”
“Because she was manipulated.” I defended Ekatarina before I could think better of it. “Mikail used her just like he’s trying to use everyone.” Alexei turned to me with burning eyes. “And you think you understand him better than I do? You’ve been here less than a month as a prisoner.” “Three months.” I corrected automatically. “I was infiltrated for three months. Remember? I observed him too.” It was the wrong thing to say. Alexei’s expression closed completely and he took two steps back as if my words had been a physical blow.
“Of course. The spy. How could I forget?” Alexei, I tried to approach, but he raised his hand, stopping me. “No.” His voice came out cold, controlled, completely devoid of the emotion that had been there seconds before. “You two want to play strategists? Fine, but don’t do it in my organization with my resources, pretending you’re helping me.” “We’re not pretending.” Ekatarina slammed her fist on the table, too. “For God’s sake, Alexei, do you really think we’re incapable of contributing something useful?”
“I think you’re women trying to prove a point in a world that doesn’t have patience for that,” he said with sexist brutality that made both Ekatarina and me widen our eyes in shock. The silence that followed was glacial. I looked at Alexei and saw how he himself seemed to regret the words the exact second they left his mouth, but pride and anger prevented him from taking them back. “You did not just say that.” I spoke with a dangerously low voice.
“I did.” Alexei maintained his hard expression. “And I’ll say it again. I don’t need help from you. Mikail is my problem. I’ll solve it my way.” “Your way?” Ekatarina laughed bitterly. “The way that’s worked so well until now? The way that let your ten-year adviser betray you without you even noticing?” It was a low blow, and we all knew it. Alexei went pale with anger, his fists closing at his sides. And for a second, I thought he was going to really explode.
But instead, he just turned and walked toward the door. “This meeting is over,” he said without looking back. “Ekatarina, go back to your room. Esme, you’re coming with me.” “No.” I responded, staying exactly where I was. Alexei stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned his head slowly. “What did you say?” “I said, ‘No,'” I repeated with a firm voice. “I’m not leaving here until you listen to what we have to say.” “Esme.” His voice carried a clear warning. “You do need it,” I interrupted. “You need help and you need to listen.” His eyes narrowed. “Be careful what you say next.”
“Or what? You’ll imprison me again? Threaten me?” I took two steps toward him. “Mikail is out there consolidating power, turning your men against you, planning the next attack, and you’re here having a sexist breakdown because two women dared to do strategic work without asking permission first.” “This isn’t about being women,” he started, but Ekatarina cut him off. “It’s exactly about that.”
She walked until she stood beside me, forming a united front. “You can pretend it’s not, but it is. Mikail manipulated you by making me believe women don’t have real value in your organization, and now you’re proving he was right.” Alexei looked from me to Ekatarina with an expression that struggled between anger and something like guilt. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, completely messing it up, and walked to the window where he stood looking outside with a tense jaw.
“That’s not it,” he said finally with a lower voice. “It’s not about your capabilities.” “Then what is it about?” I asked, approaching him carefully. “It’s about control,” Alexei admitted, still not looking at me. “It’s about being in command of the situation, about knowing exactly what’s happening. Seeing you two planning without me, it feels like I’m losing control of everything.” The vulnerable confession was so unexpected that for a moment I did not know what to say. Ekatarina and I exchanged quick glances before she decided to give us space and discreetly left the room, leaving the two of us alone.
“Alexei,” I touched his arm gently. “No one’s taking control from you. We’re trying to help you get it back.” “I know.” He finally turned and looked at me with tired eyes. “But seeing you with Ekatarina working together like you’re old allies, it reminded me that you both come from worlds that understand these things naturally. And I’m just the idiot who trusted the wrong adviser for ten years.” “You’re not an idiot.” I held his face with both hands, forcing him to keep focus on me. “Mikail was an expert in manipulation. He fooled everyone, but he didn’t fool you.”
“You noticed from the beginning, you suspected him.” “Because I was on the outside looking in,” I explained. “I had a different perspective. It doesn’t make you weak for not seeing it. It makes Mikail dangerous for being so good at hiding.” He pulled my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles with a tenderness that brutally contrasted with the anger of minutes ago. “I hate needing help.” “I know.” I smiled despite everything. “But lucky for you that you like stubborn women who help even when you don’t ask.”
Alexei almost smiled. Almost. “Do you and Ekatarina really hate each other?” “Absolutely,” I confirmed without hesitation. “She’s irritating, arrogant, and clearly still has a crush on you.” “But,” he insisted because clearly there was a “but” coming, “she fights well, thinks fast, and has information about Mikail that could be useful,” I admitted reluctantly. “And I can hate someone and still recognize strategic value.” “Very pragmatic of you.” “I learned from the best.” I looked at him meaningfully.
We were about to continue the conversation when the door opened abruptly and Nikolai entered with an expression of panic I had never seen on his normally impassive face. “Pakan.” He panted as if he had been running. “Ekatarina, she’s gone.” “What do you mean gone?” Alexei moved away from me instantly, returning to mafia boss mode. “She left her room ten minutes ago. Cameras show her going to the garage.” Nikolai extended a tablet showing the recording. “And then this was delivered at the gate.”
It was a simple envelope with just one handwritten sentence: “Trade her for your surrender. Mikail.” The blood froze in my veins. Mikail had kidnapped Ekatarina. Somehow he had managed to get into the mansion, had taken her, and was now using her as a bargaining chip to force Alexei to surrender. “When?” Alexei asked with a deadly voice. “Five minutes ago maximum.” Nikolai checked his watch. “She should still be nearby.”
Alexei was already moving, pulling his gun, giving rapid orders for Nikolai to gather men, but I grabbed his arm, making him stop. “Wait,” I spoke quickly. “This is an obvious trap. Mikail wants you to run after him. Wants you to expose yourself.” “And you want me to let Ekatarina die?” Alexei looked at me with burning eyes. “She may be irritating, but she doesn’t deserve to die because of his ambition.” “I’m not saying to leave her,” I held firm. “I’m saying to do it the right way. Let me go.”
“What? No.” The answer came instant and furious. “Mikail doesn’t see me as a threat,” I argued quickly. “He thinks I’m just your prisoner, your distraction. He won’t expect me to show up to negotiate.” “Exactly why it won’t work.” Alexei grabbed my shoulders forcefully. “He’ll kill you the second he realizes.” “Not if I’m prepared.” I looked at Nikolai. “Can you track me? Put a device Mikail won’t find?”
Nikolai hesitated, looking from me to Alexei with clear indecision. “I can, but then…” “Do it.” I ordered with authority I did not know I had. “Alexei, you stay here coordinating support teams. When I have the exact location, you come in.” “Absolutely not.” Alexei pulled me close, his forehead touching mine. “I’m not using you as bait.” “It’s not using me as bait.” I held his face urgently. “It’s trusting I can do this. It’s trusting me.” I saw the internal struggle happening in his dark eyes. Fear, anger, desperation—all mixed with reluctant trust and something much deeper that made my heart tighten.
“If something happens to you…” he did not finish, but he did not need to. “Nothing will happen.” I promised with conviction I kind of felt. “Because I’ll have you as backup and you never fail.” Alexei kissed me. It was quick, intense, loaded with fear and need and something that seemed frighteningly close to desperation. When we separated, he pressed his forehead to mine again and whispered something in Russian that sounded like a promise and a threat at the same time.
“Come back to me,” he said next in Portuguese to make sure I understood, “or I burn all of Moscow searching.” “I’ll come back,” I promised, “with Ekatarina and with Mikail’s head on a platter.” Nikolai was already preparing the tracking device when I looked at him. Alexei released me with reluctance, but I saw how his hands trembled slightly as he moved away. He was in love completely, desperately, and he was terrified of losing me, which made everything much more dangerous because now I had something to lose, too.
The tracking device was hidden inside an earring that Nikolai had adapted in record time. And while I put it on, Alexei did not take his eyes off me. He was tense as a rope about to snap. His hands closed in fists at his sides, clearly fighting every instinct that screamed not to let me go. “Coordinates.” Nikolai extended a paper with an address. “Abandoned warehouse in the port district. Fifteen minutes from here.” “Perfect.” I tucked away the paper and checked the gun hidden at the small of my back. Alexei had insisted I go armed. And for once, I did not argue.
“Esme.” Alexei grabbed my arm when I started to turn. “If anything seems wrong, you get out. Don’t try to be a hero. Don’t try to save everyone alone. Just get out.” “I promise.” I lied with necessary ease, because we both knew that if Ekatarina was in real danger, I would not leave without her. The drive to the warehouse was made in a discrete car driven by one of Alexei’s trusted men. But as soon as we got close, I asked to be dropped off two blocks away. I needed to arrive alone. Needed to seem vulnerable. Needed to make Mikail believe I had come unarmed and desperate.
The snow was falling heavily when I got out of the car, covering my coat shoulders in an instant. The port district was deserted, the old warehouses rising like skeletons of rusted metal against the gray sky. I found the right building easily, the door ajar like an invitation that was obviously a trap. I entered slowly, keeping my hands visible, my senses on maximum alert. The warehouse interior was vast and empty, except for some old boxes scattered around and a weak light coming from the back.
I followed toward the light and found exactly what I expected. Ekatarina tied to a chair, Mikail beside her with a gun pointed at her blonde head. “Esme McBride.” Mikail smiled when he saw me, and it was the smile of someone who had just won the game. “What a surprise. I thought Alexei would come personally.” “He wanted to,” I responded, stopping five meters away. “I convinced him it would be better if I came.” “Better how?” Mikail tilted his head, curious.
“A prisoner with no real value, a spy who’s already been discovered, a person willing to negotiate rationally.” I kept my voice calm. “Unlike Alexei, who probably would have arrived shooting.” “True.” Mikail gave a genuine laugh. “He always was too temperamental, emotional. That’s why he was never truly fit to lead.” Ekatarina looked at me with wide eyes, trying to communicate something silently. There was dried blood at the corner of her mouth, a sign she had resisted when she was caught, and rage burning in her expression that promised bloody revenge.
“What do you want?” I asked, focusing on Mikail. “What I’ve always wanted,” he walked around Ekatarina slowly, the gun still pointed casually. “Control of the Ivankov organization. The respect I deserve after ten years of being an underestimated adviser.” “Then why didn’t you just kill Alexei when you had the chance?” I provoked. “Why all this elaboration?” “Because killing isn’t enough!” Mikail suddenly shouted, his calm mask slipping. “I want him to see everything crumble. I want him to lose everything he built. I want him to die knowing it was me. The man he dismissed as a subordinate who destroyed his legacy.”
There it was. Wounded pride and ambition transformed into meticulously planned hatred. Mikail did not just want power. He wanted emotional revenge against a man who probably did not even know he had wounded his ego. “You underestimated everyone,” I spoke, taking a careful step toward them. “Ekatarina, me, all the pieces you thought you could manipulate easily.” “Pieces.” Mikail laughed bitterly. “Women have always been the easiest pieces to move. You’re all predictable, emotional, easily manipulated by promises of power or fears of abandonment.”
“Really?” Ekatarina spoke for the first time, her voice coming out hoarse but furious. “Then you didn’t predict I’d tell them everything.” Mikail’s expression darkened. “You were supposed to be dead. Alexei was supposed to have executed you yesterday, but he didn’t.” I continued approaching slowly. “Because he’s not the monster you painted and we’re not the idiots you thought we were.”
That is when I saw it. Ekatarina’s subtle movement, adjusting her hands tied behind the chair, the way she was preparing herself. She had managed to get loose or was close to it and was waiting for the right moment. Mikail noticed my distraction and turned the gun on me. “Enough. You’re going to call Alexei now and tell him to come alone, unarmed.” “Or what? You kill me?” I shrugged with false indifference. “I thought I was a valuable piece.”
“You’re expendable.” Mikail corrected coldly. “Ekatarina has a name, has a powerful family. You’re just an Italian spy with no real political value.” He pulled the trigger. I did not think, just moved. I threw my body sideways as the shot exploded, feeling the heat of the bullet passing so close to my shoulder it burned through my coat. I rolled behind a pile of boxes and pulled my own gun.
But before I could aim, I heard more shots. Ekatarina had freed herself completely and lunged at Mikail, her hands reaching for his gun, even though she was unarmed. They fought hand-to-hand. She trying to divert the barrel. He trying to hit any part of her he could. I came out of cover and fired. The bullet hit Mikail’s shoulder and he screamed in pain, dropping the gun. Ekatarina took advantage, grabbed the gun from the floor, and backed away quickly, pointing it at him with trembling but determined hands.
“It’s over,” she said with a voice loaded with hatred and satisfaction. That is when I heard it. Multiple footsteps from outside, voices shouting orders. Alexei had arrived with reinforcements, completely ignoring the agreement to wait for my signal. Mikail looked from me to Ekatarina and started laughing. It was the laughter of a man who had completely lost his sanity, high-pitched and terrifying, echoing through the empty warehouse.
“You think you won?” He coughed blood. “You two little women, you think you can survive in this world?” “We already survived you,” I responded, keeping my gun steady, “and that’s enough.” The warehouse door exploded inward, and Alexei entered, followed by Nikolai and six more armed men. He saw me, then saw Ekatarina, then saw Mikail bleeding on the floor, and the expression that crossed his face was relief so intense it almost hurt to see.
“Esme.” He crossed the space in seconds and pulled me close with unnecessary force, checking if I was hurt, if I was whole. “You promised to wait for the signal and you promised not to come in until I gave it.” I responded, pressing my forehead to his for a second. “We both lied.” Ekatarina was still pointing the gun at Mikail and Alexei turned to her. “Lower it.” “No,” she held firm. “He deserves to die.”
“He does,” Alexei agreed calmly, “but not by your hands. That would destroy you, Ekatarina. And you’re better than that.” On her face, I saw the internal struggle happening. Revenge against humanity, anger against reason. Finally, she lowered the gun with violently trembling hands. Nikolai approached and pulled Mikail from the floor with efficient brutality. The traitorous adviser was pale from blood loss, but still conscious enough to throw a look of pure hatred in all our directions.
Sirens started sounding in the distance. Police or private security, it did not matter. The snow continued falling through the broken windows of the warehouse. And in the middle of all the destruction, three unlikely people remained alive. I looked at Alexei and saw pride in his eyes. I looked at Ekatarina and saw reluctant respect on her face. We looked at Mikail being dragged away and saw the end of the threat that had almost destroyed everything. Together, we two women he had underestimated had taken down the villain, and we were all still standing.
Three days after the confrontation at the warehouse, Alexei called a meeting of the entire organization. It was not a common business meeting or operations report. It was a formal summons of the heads of all sectors, the most important allies, and the families that had some political weight in the structure of the Russian mafia in Moscow. I was nervous for the first time in weeks. Alexei had asked me to attend, but had not explained exactly why or what he planned to announce. He just said to dress appropriately and trust him.
The mansion’s main hall was packed when I entered. I recognized some faces from the disastrous engagement party. Others were completely new. They all looked at me with poorly disguised curiosity and suspense about what the Pakan would say. Ekatarina was already there, sitting in a chair near the main table with a posture that mixed elegance and danger. She wore a perfectly tailored dark suit and had that sharp expression of someone who knew exactly how much she was worth.
When our eyes met, she nodded slightly. It was not friendship—probably never would be—but it was mutual recognition. Alexei entered last, commanding immediate attention from everyone in the room just by his presence. He wore a suit that seemed to have been made to intimidate, his hair perfectly slicked back, and that aura of absolute power that made even dangerous men instinctively back down.
“Thank you for coming,” he began with a voice that carried throughout the hall without needing to shout. “I know the last few days have been turbulent. Internal betrayal, direct attack, significant changes in structure.” Murmurs ran through the room. Everyone knew about Mikail, about the coup attempt, about how it had failed spectacularly.
“Mikail Orof is being prosecuted according to our laws,” Alexei continued. “Betrayal by an adviser has no forgiveness. He will pay completely for what he did.” No one disagreed. Betrayal in the mafia had only one destination. “But I want to talk about something else.” Alexei looked directly at me through the crowd. “About who saved me. Not once, but several times.”
My stomach tightened. He was not going to do what I thought he was going to do. Not in front of everyone. “Esme McBride.” He said my name loud and clear. “Come here.” I had no choice but to obey. I walked through the crowd that parted, feeling heavy gazes on me until I reached Alexei’s side. He took my hand and held it firmly, intertwining his fingers so everyone could see.
“Many of you know Esme as the event planner who was at the engagement party.” Alexei spoke, looking at the audience. “Some know she saved me from poisoning that night. Few know the whole truth.” My heart raced. Was he going to reveal I was a spy? Was he going to expose me completely? “Esme is not a prisoner,” Alexei said with absolute firmness. “She’s a partner. She fought at my side, risked her life, and proved loyalty when she had every reason not to. From today forward, decisions about security and strategy will be made with her participation.”
The shock in the room was palpable. Men who had spent decades in the organization looked with incredulity at a woman who had appeared out of nowhere and was now being elevated to a position of real power. “And for those who find this controversial,” Alexei continued with a voice that carried veiled threat, “I remind you that it was she who identified the betrayal we all failed to see. It was she who rescued Ekatarina Petrov when Mikail kidnapped her. And it was she who stood by my side when it would have been easier and safer to run.”
He turned slightly to where Ekatarina was sitting. She stood up with natural grace, walking until she stood on the other side of Alexei. The image of the three of us there publicly united sent a clear message to anyone who wanted to question. “Ekatarina Petrov assumes today as head of the intelligence and strategic analysis sector.” Alexei announced. “She has unique skills and perspectives that will strengthen our organization. I expect full cooperation from all sectors.”
Ekatarina smiled, and it was not a kind smile. It was a predator’s smile—someone who had gotten exactly what she wanted. “It will be a pleasure to work with all of you.” She said with a voice that made it clear she would not accept disrespect. The meeting continued with discussions about restructuring, new security protocols, and necessary changes after Mikail’s betrayal, but the main message had already been given. Two women the organization had underestimated now had real and institutionalized power.
When everyone finally left, the hall emptied until only me, Alexei, and Ekatarina remained. We stood there in silence for a moment before Ekatarina broke the tension. “I’m never going to like you,” she said, looking at me. “The feeling remains mutual.” I responded with honesty. “But I can respect you.” She extended her hand. “Partners?” I shook it firmly. “Partners who hate each other.” “The best partnerships.”
Ekatarina smiled slightly before turning to Alexei. “Thank you for trusting. Thank you for not poisoning me anymore.” He responded with dry humor. She laughed and left, leaving the two of us alone finally. Alexei turned to me completely and pulled me close, his hands sliding to my waist with a familiarity that already seemed natural. “You exposed me publicly.” I spoke, resting my hands on his chest. “I claimed you publicly,” he corrected. “Important difference.”
“You didn’t ask my opinion first.” “Because I knew you’d argue.” Alexei smiled. “And I wasn’t in the mood to negotiate.” I shook my head but could not hide my smile. “You’re impossible, and you’re absurdly mine.” He held my chin gently, lifting my face. “Officially now.” Alexei kissed me slowly, unhurriedly, without an audience, without hidden poison or secret agendas. Just the two of us. Finally honest, finally real.
When we separated, I kept my eyes closed for an extra second, savoring the moment. “Next time I kiss you in public,” I started with a low voice, “it’ll be because I ordered you to.” Alexei completed with characteristic arrogance. I opened my eyes and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I thought we’d established that I don’t obey your orders.” “You can keep thinking that.” He smiled broadly. “It makes everything more interesting.”
He smiled too, genuine and open. And in that moment, he seemed years younger, free from the constant weight of paranoia and control. But as we stood there intertwined in the empty room, part of me knew this was not really the ending. It was the beginning. The beginning of something new and dangerous, of alliances that would be tested, of power that would need to be defended. I thought I had saved his life that night at the party. But I did not know I was entering a war where I would be the queen or the next target.
Disclaimer : This content may be created by AI for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.
