by D STEP
Her brown eyes were dark pools that brimmed wide with questions as she looked up at him. Her chest moved up and down as her breathing quickened. She did not resist him. His hand reached the crux of her thigh and abdomen. His thumb grazed the soft hairs covering her pussy. He could take her right now; satisfy his need that Cesca had awakened but did not meet. He didn’t particularly care that Yuri had laid claim to her, yet it still felt wrong. Women gave in easily to him in any case, but the present situation gave him an unfair advantage.
Valeri’s cell phone went off in his jacket pocket. He withdrew his hands from Sophie’s feather-soft skin to reach for it. “Da,” he answered curtly. He listened to Yuri’s voice on the line. “Yes she is here, safe and sound.” He rose from the sofa and walked to a corner of the room, his back turned to Sophie. The barrage of news from Goragavan went from bad to worse. He sighed in disappointment. “Someone will pay, Yuri. They always do. Stay with father. I will call you back.”
He returned to Sophie where she sat on the couch, her watery gaze still fixed on him, waiting. “You spoke to Yuri?”
He nodded. “He asked if you were alright. The attack on Goragavan is over. The damage is minimal.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Some older parts of the building were compromised and collapsed. Someone was caught in the lower corridor leading to the underground garage.” He paused, considering the weight of what he was about to say. “Councilor Svelski is dead.”
Chapter Three
“It’s my fault,” Sophie said after a long minute. Her eyes filled with tears even though she had no love for anyone or anything at Goragavan, but the aging councilor had done no harm to her. He was frail with age and disability. She had no wish for anyone to be harmed. Had he not been present in the garage as she departed, he wouldn’t have been caught in the corridor.
Valeri approached her. “What makes you say that?”
“He was there, in the parking garage when I was sent away. I saw him leave through that corridor…he can’t move very fast.”
Valeri nodded. “Why was he there?”
“He told me the mansion was under attack. He asked me some questions.”
“Like what?”
Sophie blinked and wiped at her eyes. No use hiding anything now. The damage had been done. “The same thing you asked. How the military knew I was there.”
Valeri crossed his arms, waiting for more.
“I sent a text to the Minister,” she confessed.
Valeri looked incredulous. “You were able to contact the outside? You had access to a phone?” He rolled his eyes and swore. “My brother is an idiot.”
“I told you, he took everything. I had nothing, not even clothes,” Sophie cried. “I only got my phone because he showed me it was in his pocket. I stole it back after he fell down drunk. Can you blame me?” She glared at Valeri with her watery eyes, then drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her hands.
“I suppose not,” he said after a moment of silence. “Father was very fond of Pasha. This news won’t help his health. They want me to come to Goragavan for the funeral. I hope I won’t be attending two.”
Sophie looked up. “When would you go?”
Valeri picked up his jacket from the end of the sofa. Mixed feelings of panic and elation sparked within her. She didn’t want to be left alone in strange surroundings again. When his hand had been almost at her crotch, she’d not wanted him to stop. God help her, she was attracted to the man. At the same time, if he were not here to stand guard, she still might have a chance to escape.
His blue eyes turned icy as he regarded her. “The service will be next week. Don’t think you will not be watched in my absence.” He turned in the direction of the door. “However, there is a matter to be attended to before I go anywhere.”
Sophie recalled the words she’d overheard him say on the phone. “Someone must pay?” she recited.
He paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Someone always does.”
*
“You had better explain yourself, Yuri.” Valeri sat at his desk, watching the image of his brother’s face on the private teleconference screen. The familiar reflection stared back at him, a constant reminder of a bond neither would ever be free of and a competition that could never be won. “I can’t help if you refuse to reveal your entire plan.”
Yuri rubbed his beard and hunched toward the screen. “Just keep Lara out of sight until I send for her.”
“I’ve better things to do than play hide and seek,” Valeri said. “What exactly do you plan to do with her, and when. I don’t want her underfoot any longer than necessary. And her name is Sophie.”
“I don’t give a fuck what her name was; it’s Lara now you khuyesos.”
Valeri kept his temper. “You plan to marry her? To please father? That’s absurd. You know nothing about her.”
Yuri sent him a malicious sneer. “Does that matter? What do you care? Unless you see something of mine that you want, brother? Like when we were children?”
Valeri stiffened at his insinuation, and at being called a cocksucker. “I want nothing of yours, govnyuk, you little shit. But you sure can pick them, I’ll give you that. You knew she is working for Borovski? And you kidnapped her anyway?”
“I didn’t know it when I took her. Daniel and his idiots confused her name with one of the girls we were expecting; none of them showed up. I wasn’t leaving the pickup empty-handed. But think of it Valeri, we’ve got a direct pipeline to Borovski—and a bargaining chip. We can eliminate him. Isn’t that what’s best for the business?”
“You’d better concentrate on finding those lost girls. And you didn’t think about that pipeline flowing both ways, Yuri. Don’t you know why the army started firing on Goragavan? Because she contacted Borovski. You couldn’t stay sober long enough to keep an eye on her.”
Yuri glowered at him through the video screen. “Not possible. I took all her personal effects, including her phone. She’s got a boyfriend back home, you know. She won’t do anything as long as she thinks he’s in danger. And I assured her he would be in great danger if she stepped out of line.”
“Well, she stepped. And this business of marrying her? It won’t work, Yuri. Don’t cause yourself unnecessary pain. She won’t be around for long.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you someone always pays, brother. Pasha is dead because of her. And you know I’m the one who does all the collecting.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I have and will continue to do anything necessary to protect the business and to show no weakness to our enemies.”
“You’re jealous,” Yuri said, a malicious grin forming on his face. “You’re a jealous prick. You’d do this to get back at me, any way you can. Like always.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Valeri said. “You’re good at that. Goodbye, brother.”
*
Sophie thrashed between the silky sheets. Despite the relative comfort of the Murphy bed that Irina had turned down for her, she’d had a restless night. Her world no longer made sense. Worse, it had no value. She was a pawn, a tool; bait for a bigger prey. The Ministry compromised, Andrew at risk; people dead because of her. Being kept alive only as a means to an end. Fed and watered like a prize pig awaiting slaughter at the appropriate moment.
She could not shake the ominous words Valeri had spoken. Someone must pay. And the more she thought about it, the more it seemed inevitable she would be the one. For fleeting moments she’d thought Valeri could be something more than a captor; perhaps even her saviour. He’d seemed as attracted to her as she was to him, but he was a businessman, and part of the Mafiya. In all likelihood, he was just as capable of killing her as fucking her. Maybe he had in mind to do both, possibly in that order.
Her life was over. Why prolong the agony and be the cause of suffering for others? She would likely be dead soon anyway. If she made the choice first, perhaps some measure of good could sti
She showered and dressed, even made and folded the Murphy bed into its wall to occupy her time. Soon, Irina buzzed in with a breakfast tray. “Dobroye utro,” Sophie bid her good morning in cheerful, perfectly pronounced Russian.
Irina’s round eyes widened, but she displayed a faint smile as she set down her tray, complete with a little bud vase holding a pink carnation. Today’s menu featured oatmeal, stewed plums and a slice of ham along with coffee and a pot of honey. Sophie eyed up the cutlery for potential usefulness.
“Spasibo,” Sophie thanked her.
“Pozhaluysta,” Irina answered her welcome, bowing her head slightly before retreating from the room.
“Wait! Do you speak English? Angliyski?”
Irina clasped her hands together, twisting them apprehensively. “Yes.”
Sophie exhaled with a bright smile. “Good. Do these windows open?” She moved toward the large panes of glass overlooking the city and waved her hands apart in a sliding gesture. She’d checked, and a narrow balcony lay just outside.
Irina hesitated, her mouth dropping open a bit.
“For some fresh air,” Sophie explained. “Please? I won’t jump.” Her little joke seemed to relax Irina, and the girl giggled in return. Irina stepped to the window, apparently deciding that being several floors up was a deterrent to such an act. She produced a short metal rod from her apron pocket that fitted into the mechanism on the sill. With a crank of the rod, the windowpane swiveled outward leaving an opening of no more than 12 inches. Sophie smiled. “More?”
A few more cranks and then Irina slipped the key back into her pocket. “No more,” she said, indicating the limit of the slider. Sophie nodded her thanks, taking dramatic breaths in to demonstrate. The scent of trees, moss and late-summer flowers wafted joyously into the room. The smell of freedom.
Sophie sat down to her breakfast tray and poured a cup of coffee. She picked up the carnation and handed it to Irina. “Thank you, Irina.”
Irina’s plain face transformed with a broad smile as she took the flower. “You are welcome,” she said in her thick Russian accent.
Sophie watched her leave and heard the door to her plush prison lock behind her. I hope to be, Sophie thought. If not in this world, perhaps the next.
Chapter Four
Valeri had difficulty concentrating for the rest of the day. His conversation with Yuri weighed on his mind. It was true they’d been rivals, more or less, since the day they were born. It seemed ridiculous they could still carry on such pettiness some thirty years later, yet Yuri’s accusations bothered him. Did he always desire whatever Yuri had, just on principle? Certainly the opposite was true; he had more wealth, education, loyalty from his men and security from enemies than Yuri ever would.
His thoughts inexorably turned to the young woman being held in the office below. Definitely not Yuri’s style. She was too intelligent, too worldly for the likes of him. They could barely have a relevant conversation if they married. But again, the marriage was clearly one of convenience for Yuri. He rarely thought things through on a rational level and Valeri doubted he’d spend much time in her company in any case.
What a waste. Condemn Sophie to a life of slavery, married to a Philistine like Yuri—or be executed as an example to the government that the Bratva would not be intimidated. All his talk about Borovski playing her for a pawn was a ruse, to confuse her. The new Minister truly intended to block every arms, drug and prostitution deal with the utmost fervor. He had to be reigned in, initiated to the rewards of playing nicely with the Mafiya, or face serious consequences.
Looking out the window he saw the sun had set. It was late, and time to leave his desk behind for the night. Some dinner and drinks would refresh him, perhaps present a better solution for tomorrow. He did not feel like dining alone. Though not a ravishing beauty, Sophie Brant had an aristocratic, cut-above demeanor that intrigued him, and he doubted she had any other pressing engagements. He took the lift down one floor and made his way to her suite at the end of the hall.
He entered the foyer, expecting to hear the sound of the TV. The suite lay in darkness and silence, not even a table lamp for illumination. Perhaps she was in bed already. He made his way into the main room, flicking on light switches as he went. “Sophie?” he called, looking in all corners of the room. A cool draft brushed across him, and his eyes fell on the big picture windows behind the bar. Curtains flapped in the breeze entering through the open aperture to the balcony.
“Fuck, no!” he shouted, rushing to the opening, the window frame breaking as he forced his tall body through it. What he saw instilled both relief and horror. Sophie looked up at him, her eyes glowing in the semi-dark like an animal. She hung on the rickety metal railing, one leg already over the top.
“Stop!” he yelled, stepping out onto the slippery surface of the unused balcony, never intended for practical use and therefore inadequately maintained.
“Go to hell,” she screamed, struggling to lift her remaining leg over the railing. He lunged toward her, and the slick, algae-covered decking sent his weighted leg sideways, crashing him to the floor. His heavy body skidded and slammed into the rusted railing with an echoing clatter. He could feel the vibrations as the metal sung, then gave way. Sophie tumbled over the edge and dropped out of sight.
Valeri clutched at the remaining pieces of twisted iron to stop himself from doing the same. He looked down to see Sophie’s body descend seven storeys to the ground. The sickening sound as she landed reverberated in his ears, his chest and his throat. He felt the impact as surely as if he’d taken the fall himself.
He clambered across the decking and back into the suite, calling for his security staff as he rushed to the stairwell. No time to wait for the elevator. He reached the ground floor where his guards were already mustering and led them out the exit nearest where Sophie had fallen. In the dark, they trampled through brambles and overgrown grasses that hugged the walls of the brick building until they reached the balcony side.
The white material of her blouse against the black earth alerted them to her location. Her body lay draped like a broken doll atop a mound of dirt that had been excavated for foundation repairs. Valeri was first to reach her. Her face lay sideways, her bobbed brunette hair splayed over her cheek. He grabbed her pale hand and placed two fingers to her throat. “Sophie,” he called softly, not expecting an answer. His fingertips could not discern a pulse, but wasn’t sure he could feel anything save his own panicked heartbeat.
One of his men knelt beside him, switching on a flashlight. “Sir, let me check.”
Valeri eased aside, allowing his trained bodyguard space to examine her.
“She is alive,” he said after a moment. He gave orders to his partner for medical equipment to get her inside.
Valeri’s mind seemed to go blank. He’d seen a thousand bodies injured or dead, some by his own hand, and none had incited the sick feeling churning in his gut right now. He crouched next to her still form, holding out his hand for the guard’s flashlight. He lay the torch on the dirt near her shoulder, affording enough indirect light to see her face.
“Sophie, help is coming,” he whispered.
Miraculously, she opened her eyes. “Am I dead?” she croaked.
“No,” he answered, his tongue suddenly thick in his mouth.
“Shit. Can’t even do it right.”
*
“A sprained ankle, bruised ribs and a mild concussion.” Doctor Markhov said. “Very minor injuries, considering the height of your fall. A good thing you landed on a pile of soft earth.”
Sophie lay on the bed in her suite, the Kovalenkos preferring to retain personal physicians on staff rather than engage the hospital system. She drew in a long breath and let it out again. “Not quite what I was hoping for.”
The doctor looked at her quizzically. “You’d prefer something worse?”
Sophie shook her head. “Never mind. As you’ve said, I have a concussion. My brain is clearly not working right.”
Markhov smiled and turned to leave. “It looks like you’ll be fine. I’ll leave some pain killers for you.”
Sophie nodded, and as the doctor left the room, a new guest appeared. Valeri stood near her bed with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. She looked away from his intense blue stare, his perfect hair, his handsome face, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal deliciously toned forearms. “Don’t you ever wear jeans?” she asked offhand. The man always dressed for business. She wondered if he ever relaxed.
He ignored her question. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Stupid. Useless. What else do you want to know?”
He sat down on the edge of her bed. “I want to know why you jumped.”
“Jumped? I may have hit my head, but I remember someone slipping and falling, knocking me off the railing,” she said with a dull sarcasm. “What makes you think I’d jump? I was trying to escape,” she lied.
He pursed his lips in thought. “When you came to, you asked if you were dead. You seemed disappointed that you were not. Is life so intolerable here with me that you’d prefer to kill yourself?”
She turned her attention back to him. “With you?” she repeated, one eyebrow raised. “I belong to Yuri, remember?”
His gaze seemed to soften. “It does not have to be that way. I haven’t told him what you did. I don’t think he wants a wife who would rather be dead than be with him.”
“That’s not why I tried to…leave.” Valeri cocked his head, silently asking the next obvious question. Sophie’s throat constricted as she decided how to answer it. Her voice came out flat and lifeless. “You are going to kill me anyway. For betraying your family, and causing the Councilor’s death.”
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