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Surely, I hadn’t fallen down an unrealistic hole and landed in a world where I played the beauty and he played the beast. Those kinds of possibilities only happened where they originated from—the movies. And they stay there. Here, in the real world, there was good and evil, right and wrong, moral and immoral…and the list went on and on.
Here, in the real world, men like him who threatened innocent people with the lives of their loved ones deserved to face the full wrath of the law, and women like me had a right to be free, living my best life and working a job I loved.
In this world, a woman like me could not give the slimmest chance to a man like him. His methods were illegal, and it didn’t matter that he had the touch of a skilled artist and a gentle lover. Those hands had blood on them. His head was a moving target. And the life he lived was questionable.
I hated him.
At least, I convinced myself that I did.
Egor Yezhov never failed to prove me wrong. Every time I thought things with him couldn’t get worse, he’d rise and do something to surpass my expectations. If it wasn’t worse, it was definitely just as bad as his previous actions.
I sat rigidly in the backseat with curled fingers on my knees, deliberately refusing to look at him. My eyes were fixed on the venue ahead when we pulled up. Egor stepped out, his movements fluid, confident, and arrogant, like he truly was. His dark suit glistened under the flashing lights from the cars behind, and the green in his eyes was a lighter shade. But I couldn’t bring myself to follow.
A turmoil brewed inside me, and my mind swarmed with unanswered questions. I wanted to know if this was some sick, twisted game, to know where he was taking me and what he had planned.
The driver up front, scary Anatoly with deadly eyes and inked hands, sent me a glare from the rearview mirror, silently questioning my decision to anger Egor. I pretended not to see it and avoided the caution.
As I hesitated, Egor appeared at my door, his hand extended in a gesture that seemed almost...chivalrous. I looked up from his outstretched arm to his face and, for a fleeting moment, forgot who he was—the man who had kidnapped and threatened me.
I’d expected him to snatch my wrist like he did at the parking lot, drag me out, and issue a stern warning about a kitty testing the lion’s patience. Anything but having his hand extended to me.
In that moment, he’d assumed the appearance of a gentleman, offering his hand to help me out of the car, and I imagined what it would be like if he were genuinely kind.
But the fantasy was short-lived. Reality crashed back in as I gazed into his eyes, seeing the glint of amusement there. He knew exactly what he was doing. The asshole was playing on my vulnerability, toying with me like a pawn.
I placed my hand in his, trying to calm my jitters. His fingers closed around mine, warm and firm, as he helped me out of the car. Before I climbed out, I didn’t miss the eye roll Anatoly dashed at me from the front seat. I knew what it meant.
It didn’t matter how much I fought and scratched; Egor was always going to have his way.
I stood beside the six-foot-three stud, and he didn’t release my hand. I felt trapped.
He motioned toward the steps. “Shall we?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek to hold back a retort. He’d asked like I had a choice, like I could say, “We shan’t,” and not have to fear for my mom, Ruby, and Zeya’s lives being eliminated as a consequence of my defiance.
On second thought, I nodded and tried to appear calm as we ascended the fancy steps.
Up ahead, women and men were dressed in formal clothes like us. There were lots of ladies with more expensive outfits than myself, and soon, I realized why. As we made our way through the crowd, I noticed the sign with gold lettering: Dreams for All. It was a fundraising event, and it was already in full swing. We were late. But judging by Egor’s stiff expression, I didn’t think he cared.
The rest of the people we passed seemed to think differently. His presence did a number on the crowd gathered. Some stared in awe, a few cleared the path in fear, and others spoke in hushed whispers, especially the women. They stripped him with their eyes and mumbled sultry remarks when he walked by, all the while shooting daggers at our joined hands.
I heard one mutter, “Who is she?” before we passed.
As we went deeper into the throng of people, his grip on my hand tightened, securing me beside him. Even if the event fronted a noble cause, I wondered why he chose to bringmehere.
Before tonight, I had never been to a fundraiser, and not being experienced in handling this type of crowd made me uneasy. I scanned the room of people chatting and laughing, secretly searching for any familiar face I could run to, but before I could ponder further, the lights dimmed, signaling the end of the main event.
The after-party was about to begin.
Egor led me to a secluded section of the hall where the elite guests gathered. A few men in dark suits stopped to exchangegreetings, and he spoke to them in a thicker, more rapid Russian than I was willing to understand.
A server with a tray filled with wine glasses worked the area, and I tapped him to get a glass with liquid that resembled water and a toothpick with an olive on it. Since the day I’d turned sixteen, I stayed away from bars and alcoholics and wasn’t good with drinks. I never even bothered to learn their names.
Egor watched me disapprovingly and was about to make a comment when an older man with twinkling gray eyes came up to us.
He was tall like Egor, had the same hard lines, and appeared sharp and smart in a navy blue suit and sleek leather shoes. He looked somehow familiar and had the one thing on his face that Egor wouldn’t be caught dead wearing—a genuine smile.
“Korol.” He extended a frail hand, and Egor shook it. I appreciated his style, with his white hair and beard and a thick lace of Russian on his tongue.
