The last man stands nervously unsure while the driver, still in the van, screams at him to get in or he’s leaving him behind. Ahead of them, Kat’s bodyguards are finally running towards the van.
“Get the fuck in the car!” the driver screams again at his accomplice.
The fourth man lets go of Kat and dives into the back of the van. She staggers and loses her balance, falling over.
The driver presses the accelerator and speeds towards the bodyguards, who open fire on them. I grab Kat, lifting her back to her feet. I have to get her out of here. These fucking guards are useless. They’re going to get her killed.
“Kat? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I ask, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her to face me.
“What?” she stammers, staring at me, wide-eyed and blank-faced. “Yulian?”
“I’m getting you out of here,” I snap.
She’s in shock as I shove her into my car and slam the door behind her.
Behind me, gunfire is still erupting as I drive away, turning a corner and speeding from the scene.
Kat shifts nervously, stealing a glance at me.
“It’s okay, I’m taking you somewhere safe,” I reassure her.
Chapter 4 - Katerina
All I wanted to do was grab some of my favorite Asian takeout and watch the new episode of my favorite series. That was my plan. A quiet, relaxing Friday night. It would have been the perfect end to a busy week, and the best way to avoid getting dragged into yet another conversation with any of my family members about whether or not we should be here.
It’s too late, guys. You’re here. Embrace it. Or freaking pack your stuff and leave already.
And apart from the annoying divide within my family that I’m having to deal with, I’m also stupidly still thinking about Yulian. The things he did to me. The way he made my body sing with his rough hands. I remember tracing my fingers over his palm and thinking to myself, This is a man who uses his hands. Maybe that’s why he’s so good with them. He doesn’t just sit behind a computer and bark orders at other men. He does the work. He builds things. He crafts things.
YulianAndreev. I can’t believe I was sonaive. Of all the men at that party, I chose my brother’senemy. Our families have been at war for I don’t even know how long, but what I do know is that since I was very young, that name has only been spoken bitterly in my family.
The Andreevs are the enemy. They are evil. They are bad. They are cruel and wicked and heartless.
It’s been drilled into my head like a mantra since I was a kid.
And guess what.
I let Yulian take my virginity—andworsethan that, it was the best night of my life.
I still can’t get over how incredible it was to be with him, and how he knew exactly what to do and when to make my body scream with pleasure.
I got up late at night to get a glass of water and just happened to spot his wallet on the kitchen counter. I couldn’t resist. Hoping to find some form of identity, I flipped it open.
That was when I found out who he really was. A million questions hit me along with a horribly intense panic. Did he choose me on purpose? Did he trick me, knowing it would start shit with my brother? Was it a malicious move that was plotted out before he even got to the party? Or did he not know who I was at all? It seemed impossible for him not to know who I was. In that moment, I thought I was going to be his prisoner. It’s exactly the type of evil shit an Andreev would do.
So I ran.
I left as quickly and as quietly as I could. I felt sick.
I felt betrayed and angry, and over the next few weeks, it was really hard not to obsess over it.
I wanted to storm back to his place and punch him in the face for what he did.
But instead of doing that, I kept my head down and tried to forget about him and what happened, and hoped it would all blow over. Besides, I understood that I was also angry at myself for enjoying it so much. For wanting more. For wanting to see him again.
Hence, my plan for a peaceful night alone.
Except now I’m staring atYulian. My entire body is shaking uncontrollably. The sound of gunshots is still ringing in my ears, and I can barely piece a single thought together.
