“I do.”
Silence stretches between us, cold and thin and irreversible.
“You’d better go,” I add softly. “Before this gets worse.”
For a second, I see something ugly flicker in his eyes. Anger. Calculation. The real man beneath the charm. Then it’s gone, replaced by something wounded and pleading. His mask is back on, but it’s too late.
I’ve already seen behind the curtain. I know the truth. He disgusts me.
22
ANDREI
The plan worked. That should be the only thought in my head as the footage loops for the third time across the monitor in Petya’s surveillance room. Belov stepped out of hiding exactly the way I expected him to. He took the bait, exposed himself, and confirmed what we needed to know.
Strategically, it’s a success. Emotionally, it feels like a knife sliding between my ribs. Because I can’t stop watching the moment he climbed through her window like he belonged there. I watch the way he reached for her. The way he stood inside her apartment like he still had a claim to her.
She’d done what she’d promised and pressed the alarm. I radioed my men to hold back as I could see she wasn’t in imminent danger through the cameras I’d had placed in her apartment weeks ago.
My jaw tightens until I’m grinding my teeth. I don’t notice until Petya shifts beside me, careful, silent, waiting to see how I’m going to react, so I remain calm. I can always explode later.
“Keep eyes on every exit within six blocks,” I say finally, voice flat enough that it surprises even me. “I want him followed. I don’t want him taken yet, but I do want eyes on him at all times.”
“Yes,Pakhan.”
His words remind me of who I am. I am a leader. I am feared and respected. I’m not a simpering idiot who gets jealous of another man.
I refuse to feel jealous of Kostya, even as the feeling threatens to rip me to shreds. I can control my thoughts, but apparently my emotions are a little hard to keep in check. The realization makes my stomach turn.
I don’t get jealous. I don’t have time for emotions that sort of cloudy judgment or weakened resolve. I’ve spent years cutting those instincts out of myself piece by piece until there was nothing left that an enemy could use.
And yet I stood there, watching another man inside her space, close enough to touch her, and all I could think about was how easily I could put a bullet through his throat. Not because he’s a threat to my organization, not even because he’s a threat to her. Just because he looked at her like he still wants her.
I can’t let the jealousy win. I can’t let it consume me. There’s too much at stake. My very life, in fact. I get up and storm back to my living room, waiting for Alina to arrive.
By the time my men deliver her to the penthouse, my anger has settled into something colder and sharper. She steps out of the elevator surrounded by guards and numerous suitcases. She’s quiet and takes a moment to look around the place.
She’s clearly impressed, and that should please me. I should be happy that she likes where I live. I should offer her a tour and be a gracious host. Instead, tension follows her inside like an unwelcome guest.
She looks relieved to see me. That’s the worst part. She’s happy to have her confrontation with Kostya over with and I’m still reeling from it. He was the last man to touch her. He put his hand on her. I should kill him for that.
“Your room is at the end of the hall. Go unpack,” I tell her, voice rougher than intended. “I’ll speak to you later.”
The words come out harder than I mean for them to. I see it in the brief flicker of hurt that crosses her face before she hides it, straightening her shoulders. Good. Distance is safer for both of us.
My jealousy will destroy us. My love, though I still refuse to acknowledge it, will put us all in danger. Better that she’s angry with me. Better that she thinks I’m cold and dangerous.
She disappears down the hall with the guards and the sound of her footsteps fades into silence. I hate myself for speaking to her that way, but even so, I know it was the right move.
I walk straight into my office and close the door harder than necessary. Petya arrives minutes later.
“The perimeter’s secure,” he says. “There’s been no movement since the fire escape. We’ve lost visual, but we will find him.”
I nod once, already pacing. Stillness isn’t possible right now. Every nerve in my body feels wired too tight, like I’m waiting for a fight that hasn’t started yet.
“He threatened her father,” Petya adds carefully. “We heard it on the audio.”
My hands curl into fists before I can stop them. Of course he did. Belov doesn’t have power over her anymore, so he reaches for fear. For leverage. For anything that might still bind her to him.
