I can still feel the softness of her skin under my hands, the way she reacted to me. Every gasp, every small movement, like she was learning how to trust me, but was scared of what that might mean. She didn’t say much, but she didn’t need to. I saw it all in the way she moved, the way she let me lead her.
And the thing is, she did trust me. Even when she didn’t know me, even when she probably should’ve run, she stayed. And that trust? It’s something I don’t take lightly. I’ve never had a woman trust me like that. Not without hesitation. Not like her.
I should’ve sent her home the moment I realized she wasn’t like the others. The moment I saw how unprepared she was for this world, how vulnerable she was. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I watched her, observed her, and I let myself want her in a way I hadn’t let myself want anyone in years.
And now, she’s living under my skin.
I can’t escape her.
As I struggle with these thoughts, my phone rings on the table. It’s Valentino, my close friend. I almost don’t take the call, but at the last second, I swipe my finger on the screen.
“Yes?”
“We just docked our latest heroin shipment,” he says happily. “Did Adrian tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Hundred bags. Millions of dollars, man. We’re rich.”
“We’ve always been rich,” I answer. “We always will be.”
He laughs. “Look, Lukin, we’ve got a table at the club tonight. You should—”
“No,” I snap, cutting him off. My tone is sharp, harsher than usual, and it’s enough to make him flinch. “I’m not interested.”
“But I—”
I hang up the call, almost throwing my phone across the room. These past weeks since Zoe have been hell. I’ve lashed out at everyone, picked a fight with Adrian and snapped at my daughter, which rarely ever happens. I apologized, but the only way she was going to accept my apology was if I agreed to meet her friends during her birthday in two days.
She’s having the party at the family estate, despite me suggesting she get an event hall outside. But she insists, and the spoiled brat is used to having her way. I’ve had men sweep the estate to make sure it’s safe for the party. I can’t wait for it to be over.
I may have hated it when Maria got accepted into the university to study medicine, but I appreciate how much of her time it takes, so she has less time to cause trouble. The thoughtof Maria brings a smile to my lips, and I lower myself onto my chair, wondering what to buy her as a gift.
***
The room is dim, the smell of sweat and desperation thick in the air. The man in front of me—scrawny, disheveled—shakes in his chair, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. His hands are bound to the chair, his head hanging low, his breathing shallow.
I don’t need to say much. I’ve done this a thousand times, and they all crack under the pressure. This man stole from me—tried to play the system, thought he could get away with it.
I stand across from him, my arms crossed, leaning against the table, and I watch him squirm. My men are silent, positioned at the corners of the room, their faces cold, unreadable. They know what needs to be done, and they know I don’t tolerate failure.
“You’re lucky,” I say, my voice low and steady. “Usually, I’d make an example out of you. But today, I’ll let you explain yourself. Why’d you steal from me?”
The man opens his mouth but hesitates, the words stuck in his throat. I lean forward, my eyes narrowing. “I’m waiting.”
Finally, he speaks, his voice trembling. “I… I thought I could make some quick cash… I didn’t mean to—”
“Enough,” I cut him off, stepping closer. “You don’t steal from me. You don’t take what’s mine and—my phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration cutting through the tension. I pull it out, checking the screen. It’s my daughter.
I hesitate for a moment before answering.
“Dad!” she whines, her voice giddy and full of excitement. “It’s my birthday today! I told you! Why aren’t you here?”
“Maria, you know I don’t do parties. I’ll meet your friends after. I promise.”
“No. It’s not just about that,” she argues. “You’ve got to come to the party. Just for a little while. I know you’re busy, but… it would mean a lot to me.”
Her words hit me harder than I expect, a pang of guilt threading through me. I know she wants me there, and she doesn’t have to beg. It’s my duty as a father.
