Chapter FOUR

SOFIA

I got canned. I couldn’t fucking believe it.

Brown water poured from the spout, and I hustled to turn it off before it could fill the tub. Dammit. I really wanted a bath. I rubbed my hands together, trying to get my circulation going. Despite the two pairs of pants, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and an enormous, hooded sweatshirt on top of that depicting a grumpy faced cat, I was still freezing.

“Fuck this day, already,” I growled, my potty mouth getting the better of me as usual.

It was bad enough I had to fork out seventy-three dollars for an Uber that morning, which made my walk of shame not only embarrassing but detrimental to my budget, but when I got home, my boss called. She sounded frantic, which was not unusual, and angry, which was.

“Sofia! Why didn’t you answer my calls on your cell?”

“Hello, Missy. Um, because my cell died. Why? What’s wrong?”

Typically, my week was Monday through Friday. Weekends were my own since Missy often spent them at her family home in the Hamptons during the summer and the Long Island Sound during the winter months. She and her brother were an odd pair. I never really liked being around him and was grateful it hadn’t happened very often. If Missy was flighty, then Matthew was straight up creepy.

So I was grateful for the fact Missy usually reserved time with her brother for the weekends at one of their estates. And that was when I worked on my book and visited my family. I only worked if she really needed me, and last night she insisted I go to the party but gave no indication she needed me after. I had no idea what she was talking about when she called to fire me.

“I can’t believe it. How could you do this to me?”

“Missy, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I’d replied to her hysterics with an eye roll. She was pretty much the worst drama queen I knew. Something that was definitely going in my book.

“Matthew is just livid. Now, he’s talking about cutting off my allowance. I’m sorry, Sof.”

“Sorry for what, Missy. What are you saying?” I asked, completely bewildered.

“I just can’t have you work for me anymore.”

She hadn’t made much sense, but then again, she rarely did. Coming from one of the wealthiest families on the East Coast, I’d imagined that was a rich people problem. But the reality was she fired me.

I understood that quite clearly. She’d uttered something about loyalty and the bonds of womanhood or some such thing, then she hung up. To say I was put out would be mild. Truth was, I was pissed.

I didn’t know what bonds of womanhood I had destroyed, but if I was fired, then that meant I needed a new job, and soon. I walked over to the radiator, testing it with my hands. Nope. Still cold, despite Mr. Crawford, my landlord, insisting he fixed the issue with the heat.

I grabbed a wooden spoon and started banging on the cold hunk of metal, cursing it out while I did. Maybe that was why I hadn’t heard anyone knocking on the door. At least, not until they came crashing through it.

“Aghhh!”

“Zaika, are you okay?”

I clapped my hands over my mouth as six and a half feet of furious Russian came racing towards me. His hands dragged me towards him, and he ran them over my lumpy ensemble as if checking me for breaks and fractures. I stood stone still for a moment until sanity returned. Then I slapped at his fingers, and backed up as far as I could, which was all of two feet before the wall stopped me.

“I’m fine! Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

My cheeks were burning, and I could only imagine what I looked like. He dragged his gaze up my body and when it finally met mine—bam. I felt it hit me with all the force of a Mack truck. Attraction sizzled between us, and I had to wonder if maybe I wasn’t hallucinating.

“Boss, is she okay?” a large man wielding a gun asked, and I screamed.

“She is fine. Sofia, this man is my head of security. Why were you banging that spoon?” he asked, dismissing my little freak out.

“What? Oh! Nothing, I was just trying to make the radiator work. But how did you find out where I lived? And who told you my name?”

I was panicking, but who could blame me? There were now four gigantic men stalking around my two by four apartment, walking on my broken linoleum floor with their expensive Italian shoes. I closed my eyes, counting to three. Maybe when I opened them this would all be some cold-induced hallucination?

One. Two. Three. Nope.

He was still there, head canted to the side like a wild animal as he observed my mini melt down. Did he have to be so big? I was short, but I was not a small woman. Still, he made me feel positively petite. I’d had a chance to Google him when I got home, and what I found made my hands tremble as he stood there, taking up all the available space in the room.

Adrik Volkov wasn’t some relative of whoever owned Volkov Industries. He was not some rich guy with a common Russian surname. He was the motherfucking head of Volkov Industries. Rumored to be associated with illegal activities—the guy was a former fucking crime lord, for fuck’s sake!

“Leave us,” he commanded, affording one glance at the head giant who mumbled something into his suit cuff.

My entire body was on high alert, and I hated to admit it, but something happened to me when he barked out commands like that. Something I would deny if asked. I tried to slow my pulse, but nothing could stop my sex from clenching and moisture from pooling between my thighs. Seconds later, the men who’d been scurrying through my apartment hightailed it out of there. They were well-trained, I’d give them that. But still, scary as fuck. I could breathe a little easier without them, but only by a smidgeon.

Adrik watched with a hawk-like focus that made me feel like a bug in a display case. I was stunned. Had no idea what he was doing there or why he had bothered hunting me down. Did he have some sort of spyware that told him when people searched his name on the internet? No. That was dumb. Mostly. Honestly, I didn’t know what he was capable of, but if the rumors were true, it was a lot.

Gulp.

He stood and stared at me, as if waiting for something. But what was I supposed to say to him? I had questions, but none I was secure enough to voice aloud. And definitely not to him. The seconds ticked by slow as hours and I had no idea how long we stood like that, just facing off. I inhaled a deep breath.

“Your face is very revealing, Zaika moya,” he whispered, but I remained quiet.

What could I say, really? I’d never been in a situation like that before. I tried to look unaffected, you know, cool and calm, but I imagined I looked like a crazy person. My getup was downright hilarious next to his fancy suit, but it wasn’t like I’d been expecting company.

“You are thinking something, Zaika. Tell me.”

So, were mind blowing, pussy breaking one night stands supposed to track you down the next day at your apartment and just sorta pop up unannounced for shits and giggles?

But I wasn’t saying all that to him. I mean, who would?

“Pussy breaking? I promise, Zaika moya, if I did this terrible thing, I will fix it,” he whispered, eyes darkening as they raked over my body again.

“Shit. I said that out loud, didn’t I? Um, tea?” I asked, my voice unnaturally high-pitched.

“I drink tea,” he said, following me into my postage stamp sized kitchen.

I pressed the button for the electric kettle and got down two mugs, furiously wiping the one with the impossible to remove coffee stain. He stopped my scrubbing with one big hand on my wrist. I didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t, at least, not until my body stopped trembling. He smelled so good. Spicy and expensive. Heat seemed to radiate from him, and in my now frigid apartment, I could not help but move closer, seeking his warmth.

“The cup is clean, Zaika,” he whispered, and his breath tickled my cheek. “Don’t tell me you are nervous after everything we did last night?”

I closed my eyes again at the feel of his warm body almost touching mine, but not quite. The tease. His cologne was something I did not recognize as being anything other than him. It was exotic, unusual, like spice and man and something wild and dangerous.

“Maybe that is why I’m nervous. What are you doing here?” I asked, finally finding the courage to meet his steely gaze.

“I-I have a proposal for you,” he said, but it sounded like he was going to say something else first.

Despite being all but frozen a second ago, I was suddenly sweating like crazy. My heart pounded, and a sizzle of excitement spiked up my spin. A proposal? Was this guy nuts?

“Look, last night was fun and all, but I don’t go around marrying strangers no matter how sexy they are,” I began.

Adrik cocked his head to the side again, eyes flashing with some intense emotion. I couldn’t tell if it was anger, surprise, lust, or maybe repulsion. Then he smirked, and my panties just up and melted. Holy. Shit. No one man should embody that much sex appeal. It just wasn’t fair to the rest of the poor schleps out there trying to get by.

“I am glad you find me sexy, Zaika. But this is not my proposal.”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

“I was not asking you to marry me, Sofia. Nothing so rash as this,” he began.

“Oh, good,” I said.

I forced a laugh, turning around so I could grab tea bags from the ceramic cat jar I kept on the counter. I was really trying to hide my embarrassment. Of course, this man wasn’t proposing to me. Me? Of all people. He was Adrik fucking Volkov. He probably had some model thin Russian bride waiting for him in Siberia or some shit. What did he need with a chubby, loudmouthed American?

“I am not the marrying kind, you understand? So, I want you to move in with me for the next month,” he announced, just dropping that bomb on me like—boom!

“What?!” I screeched, dropping both mugs in my hand with two loud, messy crashes.

Tea and glass went everywhere, and Adrik cursed roundly in Russian. For a moment, I thought he was upset because I’d splashed tea on his expensive pants, then he grabbed my waist and lifted me up, sitting my stunned ass on my counter while he scrounged under the sink for some dish towels to drop on the mess.

“You must be more careful, Zaika moya. No shoes on your feet. You could be hurt,” he growled, mopping up the mess with more efficiency than I would have given a man in his position credit for.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, still too shocked to form sentences. “Did you say you want me to move in with you for a month?”

“Yes. I am a very busy man, but I am practical. I have needs, but I am in the middle of a very important negotiation. I can’t afford to spend time wooing you. Now, I happen to know you are suddenly without employment,” he said, straightening up and dropping the whole mess into the trash can, towels and all.

“I liked that daisy towel,” I muttered.

He ignored that and continued to explain his reasoning to me. I supposed I should have been flattered. But I was too shocked to appreciate the situation.

“Just like I know you are writing a novel and could use someone who has the power to whisper in the ear of the right publishing house. My proposal is you stay with me for one month, all expenses paid, including your rent, utilities, and heat,” he said, looking around dubiously. “Plus, you will have an unlimited platinum card for shopping, clothes, nails, hair whatever you want. At the end of the month, my people will arrange a meeting for you with whichever publisher you choose.”

My brain was spinning. He was like a damn devil, offering me what I wanted most of all in return for my body—or was it my soul he was really after? Of all the arrogant, half-assed—wait, what did he say? This guy knew publishers, too? That was it, the last straw that broke this fluffy camel’s back.

“Out,” I growled.

“Pardon?” he asked.

I could tell by his apparent confusion he really did not understand what was happening. So I slid off the counter where he’d placed me like I weighed next to nothing, and I pointed to the door, stomping my foot, which had no effect considering I wore socks and no shoes.

“I said get out.”

“Zaika—”

“My name is Sofia, as you somehow found out—creepy, by the way. And I don’t need your help whispering into anyone’s ears, got it? I don’t care who you know. I will publish my book based on the merits of my writing or not at all!”

Adrik looked at me, a mixture of admiration and exasperation on his face. It was the look you gave a spoiled child, or someone who did not know any better, and I found it completely demeaning.

How dare he?

“You are an innocent, Zaika moya. That is why you do not understand, it is always about who you know,” he said slowly, as if I was too dim to get what he meant.

Ooooh. That made my blood boil. And not in the happy times fun way that had occurred between us the previous night. An image of the reflection I’d seen of myself, legs on his shoulders as he ate my pussy like a starving man, in one of the ceiling to floor windows of his penthouse flashed inside my brain, and I wobbled a little on my feet. Then I narrowed my eyes at him. Why deny what happened?

“Considering I was riding your face last night like a rodeo cowgirl, I don’t think I’m all that innocent. So, fuck you very much for that indecent proposal. You can leave now.”

“But that’s just it. I can’t leave,” he growled angrily, and no, he did not look happy about it.

Wasn’t that too bad? I was pissed as well. So much so, I was vibrating with it. Smug bastard. Did he think this was Pretty Woman? Did I look like Julia fucking Roberts? For a moment, I’d actually thought he was proposing to me, when really, he was proposing I be his whore for a month.

I didn’t know why I was so disappointed. I didn’t expect the man had fallen in love with me overnight. Yeah, I mean, he looked a little nuts hunting me down the next day, but that was probably because rich men were used to getting their way. Maybe I should have been flattered. Maybe later, I would be. But I was too angry and confused, and cold to think straight.

Did he have to look so good in his exquisitely tailored coat and suit? Even cursing and pulling on his thick dark hair, he was sexy as sin. I looked down at my furry sock covered feet and closed my eyes. Him proposing to me? I must have been suffering from a senior moment to think something like that.

But really, what the heck was he thinking, finding my address, and coming here to proposition me? Poor billionaire. He’d been duped. Last night I had been in costume. Not anymore, though. Sweatpants and hoodies were my usual weekend attire. He needed someone who wore silk stockings and stilettos. That was not me. It never would be. And if I’d given him the impression I was for sale, I guess maybe I was to blame, too.

“Look, I am sorry to interrupt your tirade, but I really don’t know what to tell you, Adrik. I am not a prostitute. But I am sure someone with your connections can find one. I mean, you look like you can definitely afford to buy anyone you want. Except me. Now, goodbye,” I said stiffly.

“No.”

He shook his head, looking like a beast instead of a man as he stalked from wall to wall, wearing a path across the old carpet with his expensive shoes.

“No?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Adrik expelled a breath and stopped his pacing to answer me.

“Yes, to the first no. No. That is my answer to your rebuttal. You do not understand, I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Now, I have already bought this building. If you refuse me, I will take over all the apartments. You and your neighbors will have nowhere to go⁠—”

“Then I will go home, I have family, you know. And shame on you for threatening to put poor people on the streets,” I said, furious he would even suggest such a thing.

“I would do worse things than that, Zaika. I have done. And yes, let us talk about your family. Your father is unemployable. Alcoholic, yes?”

“Don’t talk about my father! He’s had some problems, but he’s doing his best and Nonna⁠—”

“We shall agree to disagree about what means his best. As for your grandmother. She is a good woman, responsible. She cared for you, yes?”

“She raised me,” I whispered, hating where this was going.

“Yes. Like I said. Good woman. But also deeply in debt. The rest of your family can barely get by. But they all live together. Nice family. Loving. Unfortunately, the mortgage is past due, and the property taxes have been unpaid for six months.”

“W-what?” I asked, sitting down hard.

It bothered me that he brought up my father, but he was not saying anything that wasn’t true. Dad was an alcoholic. His broken heart after my mother died allowed for nothing else. There was no room for anything but grief. Certainly not me.

But all that was in the past. I forgave my father for his sins long ago. What I did not know was that Grandma was so far behind. Fear filled me and worry, too. My grandmother had paid for my college. Helping me when my father was incapable. I always swore to pay her back someday.

“But do not worry, Zaika moya. I bought the lien on this property in North Bergen right before we got here. I now hold the mortgage on it.”

“Y-you did that in case I said no to your crazy and insulting plan to have me be your whore?” I asked, eyes so wide I wondered if it was possible for them to pop right out of my head.

“No, Zaika. Not my whore. Just mine. For one month. I wanted to make sure you understand how valuable this one month is to me.”

I could not believe this man. He’d dug into my life, violating me in ways I had never experienced. And what for? To have me as his beck and call fuck buddy? It shouldn’t have stroked my ego that he thought I was good in the sack, but it did. Good enough to warrant him going through all this trouble just to fuck me again. But I couldn’t help it.

Yep. There was something definitely wrong with me. That I would even consider being flattered by this monster. But even as I thought the word, I couldn’t help the quiver rolling through me. My body swelled and clenched at the remembered passion between us. That much was undeniable. Adrik and I were fire when we touched.

“Your phone is ringing, Zaika. Take the call.”

My body moved automatically to obey his rough command, but it was too late to stop. My grandmother’s name flashed across my cell phone, and I answered it immediately.

“Nonna? Wait, slow down. The bank called? Uncle Frank? No! Do not give him power of attorney, Nonna. I will be there in one hour. Promise me you won’t do anything. Just promise! Okay, yeah, I am on my way.”

My heart was beating me to death, but not because of the figure he cut in his tailored suit or because of how out of place he looked in my crappy apartment. Uncle Frank was a prick, and whatever manipulations Adrik set into motion to get me to agree to his cockamamie plan, he obviously hadn’t dug deep enough into my family to know about my father’s sister’s husband. A man I hated more than any other on the planet. A look of confusion crossed Adrik’s face, and he flashed a glare at one of his henchmen.

“On it,” the man murmured, already on his phone.

“Come. My car is outside.”

I put my ugly, puffy winter coat on, and my over-socked feet shoved inside a pair of scuffed-up boots, not giving two shits what I looked like. Grabbing my backpack, which doubled as a purse, I shoved my wallet inside, knowing my tablet and other crap were already in it.

Adrik’s men held the door of his sleek limousine open for us and I slid inside, too incensed to do much but get in. I had to get Uncle Frank out of there before that sleazeball did something that couldn’t be undone. I’d stopped the fucker once, but I didn’t know if I could live with myself if he took Nonna’s building from her.

“We will be there in forty-one minutes. Less if Carlo speeds, and he will. Now, tell me what I need to know about this Uncle Frank.”

I turned my head and looked into Adrik’s impossibly dark eyes. A minute ago, this man was my enemy, and I really should not look at him like he was a savior. But if he could help my grandmother, whom I owed everything to, then I would just have to trust him.