“Her name is Valeria Petrova,” he says. “Daughter of Fydor Petrov. Russian Bratva. He…was murdered days ago. Cousin orchestrated a coup. She fled to America seeking protection. Under our name. Past alliances between our families.”
I raise a hand before he can continue. “Why here? Why us? Explain, Mike. Now.” My words cut through the air like a blade. Suspicious. Everything about this situation stinks.
From the corner of my eye, I feel it. Her gaze. It’s burning into the side of my face, sharp and insistent. I don’t look. I don’t need to. Not worth it. Not yet.
Mike shrugs, easy under my scrutiny. “She met Ellie at a gala last year. They…connected. So she hoped, since I’m her husband, that…I’d be easier to talk to.”
I laugh. Bitter. Hard. Cold.
“Hoped you’d be easier to talk to? So fucking convenient. Mike…turn her away. Now.” My words are deliberate, heavy with warning.
I step closer to the desk, letting my height and presence fill the room. The whiskey-scented air does nothing to calm the tension.
“Do you understand? This raises too many questions. A surviving daughter of a Russian Bratva family appearing out of nowhere, a request for protection, and—” I pause, letting my words sink, “—all of it drags us into foreign politics. Into their problems. Into potential blood.”
Mike’s eyes flick to hers, then back to me. I know he’s sensing the same tension I feel. “Timofey….”
I don’t hide my skepticism. I never do.
“This could be a trap,” I growl, my voice low, controlled, dangerous. “Desperate people do desperate things.And criminals manipulate powerful organizations to fight their battles for them. You expect me to just take her word for it? That the timing of her arrival is innocent?”
Mike sighs. “Sebastian and Dimitri have looked into it. Her story is real. She’s currently being hunted by her family in Russia. She’s the last surviving heir, so they want her dead. Petrov used to be a rival, but over the past few years, he’s been reaching out for a truce. And we’ve been considering doing business together.”
I shake my head. “So what? When did the Rusnaks become saviors for damsels in distress?”
“Excuse me?” Valeria speaks for the first time.
I hear movement, and she’s finally in my view. She’s frowning. Instead of shrinking under my scrutiny, she meets my gaze with visible irritation. Her posture stiffens as if my suspicion is insulting rather than intimidating. The defiance in her expression suggests she is not accustomed to being doubted.
I study her carefully now. She’s a beauty. Tall, elegant, pale skin flushed red, long black hair falling in waves down her back, ice-blue eyes sharp enough to cut glass, cheekbones like daggers. And damn it—her fire makes me want to knock her down a peg, even as it makes my pulse tighten.
“I amnota damsel in distress,” she says. “I am very much capable of taking care of myself. But right now I need a landing, and I can’t take back my father’s empire alone. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“I don’t give a fuck why you’re here. I don’t trust you, and your story doesn’t move me.”
Her eyes flare. Most people would have cowered, melted, or lowered their gaze by now. Not her. She holds it, steady, unwavering. That’s dangerous.
“You think because your family has power, because you’re a Rusnak enforcer, I’m supposed to bow my head and begrateful?” she snaps, voice low but cutting. “I’ve survived men who are worse than you. You’re not as intimidating as you think you are. Knock it off.”
I take a step closer, closing the space just enough to make her shift slightly—but she doesn’t. She’s calculating, aware. I can smell the fear she doesn’t have, the adrenaline she refuses to let show.
Mike clears his throat. “Timofey….”
His voice brings me back to reality and clears the red gaze in my eyes. I freeze just before I crowd her space.
“You’ve got fire,” I growl under my breath, low, controlled. “But fire gets people killed.”
“Timofey!” Mike snaps again, and I spin toward him, jaw tight.
“Why did you have me come here?” I growl, fists clenching. “What the fuck has any of this got to do with me? I don’t give a damn about this. I’m leaving.”
I reach the door, hand on the handle, when Mike’s voice stops me.
“You’re here because you’ve been assigned as Valeria’s primary protector.”
I freeze mid-step. My head snaps back, catching her gaze at the same time. Shock mirrors my own across her pale, exhausted face. Relief flickers for a fraction of a second—she wasn’t expecting this either.
“That’s not happening,” I growl, turning back to Mike.
