I could say it's to keep her occupied. Keep her quiet. Instead, I tell her the truth.
"Because in about ten minutes, you're going to realize how fucked your situation is, and you'll need a familiar anchor to hold on to."
She stares at me. "That's surprisingly thoughtful for a killer."
"I'm full of surprises, you'll see."
Another knock. This time, no voice.
I open the door to find Pyotr—a six-foot-five Russian bear disguised as a man, with a face that looks like it was assembled during a blackout. Not exactly Prince Charming material. Lila's got every reason to gulp, and she does, audibly.
"This is Pyotr," I tell her. "He'll be outside your door."
"My own bodyguard?"
"To keep people out,” I explain before considering. "And to keep you in."
“Ah,” she says, nodding slowly. "So, he's the prison guard, and I'm a prisoner. Got it."
"You're alive. Would you prefer the alternative?"
She gnaws her lip rather than answering that one.
"I need to deal with some things," I continue. "Pyotr will get you anything you need. Food, drinks, whatever. Don’t try to leave."
She raises her chin. "And if I try anyway?"
I look at Pyotr, then back at her. "Don't."
I head for the door. "I'll collect your things from your apartment. Should be back by tomorrow. Tonight, make do."
"Ivan."
I freeze in the doorway. It's the first time she's said my name. It’s different from her lips. Softer.
"What?"
"What happens when this is over? When you've dealt with Dmitri?"
I turn to look at her. Standing there in nothing but my shirt, hair still damp, she’s the sum of all my secret fantasies—and yet somehow, more. More than I was ready for.
She looks likemine.
"I don't know," I confess. "I guess we'll find out."
I leave before I slip and tell her the truth—that this will never be over. That I've already decided I'm keeping her.
In the hallway, I give Pyotr his real orders in Russian. "No one gets in. She doesn't leave. If she needs anything, get it. If anyone tries to take her, kill them."
He nods once.
I head to my office, pulling out my phone. Three missed calls from bratva captains. Twelve texts from various soldiers. Word travels fast in our world. By morning, everyone will know I killed Oleg. By tomorrow night, they'll know about the girl.
Let them know. Let them all know that I make the rules.
And rule number one: Lila is mine.
The excuse will come. It always does in this life. Someone will make a move, someone will threaten her, and then I'll have my reason.
