Page 26

26

TASH

I adjust the silk scarf around my neck, hiding the marks Dmitri left this morning, before rushing off to some meeting. Two weeks. It feels like two minutes and two years, all at once.

“Earth to Tash.” Sofia waves her hand in front of my face. “That’s the third time you’ve stirred your coffee without drinking it.”

“Sorry.” I drink the now-lukewarm latte. The sun streams through the cafe’s windows, catching the diamond on Sofia’s finger.

“You’re glowing.” She leans forward, studying my face. “I never thought I’d see the day Natasha Blackwood got properly dickmatized.”

“Don’t be crude.” But I can’t help smiling. “He’s... different than I expected.”

“Different, how?”

I think of Dmitri’s face this morning, relaxed in sleep. How he reads poetry in Russian when he can’t drift off. The way he absently strokes my hair while reviewing contracts.

“He has this stillness about him. Like he’s constantly observing, taking everything in. And sometimes...” I run my finger along the edge of my cup. “Sometimes he looks at me like he’s seeing straight through to my soul.”

“You’re falling for him.” It’s not a question.

“Maybe.” I bite my lip. “Yes. God help me, but yes.”

Sofia reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’ve never felt like this.” The admission comes easier than I expected. “He’s brilliant and complex and...” I lower my voice. “The sex is mind-blowing.”

“Details!” Sofia demands, making me laugh.

“A lady never kisses and tells.” I sip my coffee, remembering this morning’s shower. “But let’s just say he’s very... thorough.”

“I knew it.” Sofia sits back, triumphant. “The controlled ones always are.”

I think of Dmitri’s perfect suits and measured words, how that control crumbles when we’re alone. He whispers things in Russian against my skin that make me shiver even when I don’t understand them.

“He’s not what anyone thinks,” I say softly. “There are so many layers to him. Just when I think I’ve figured him out, he shows me something new.”

“Just... be careful, Tash.” Sofia’s expression shifts. “The Ivanovs dangerously possessive. Once you are with one, there’s no going back. Dmitri won’t let you go easily.”

I open my mouth to protest when her phone chimes. The smile drops from her face as she reads whatever message just came through.

“What is it?”

Instead of answering, she turns her phone around. My stomach plummets as I read the headline: “Russian Oligarch’s Latest Acquisition: Museum Curator Caught in Late Night Rendezvous.”

Below is a photo of Dmitri and me leaving L’Artisan last night. His hand rests possessively on my lower back as he guides me to his car. The article speculates about our “affair” and questions my position at the museum, suggesting improper influence over acquisitions.

“How did they...” I scroll through the article. “We were so careful.”

“Someone must have tipped them off.” Sofia’s voice is gentle. “You know how these vultures operate.”

I think of Dmitri’s warnings about privacy and his insistence on discretion. Now I understand why. Every detail of my life is being picked apart—my career, background, and friendship with Sofia is under scrutiny.

“The board meeting is tomorrow.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears. “They’re going to see this.”

“Dmitri will handle it,” Sofia assures me. “He always does.”

But I’m not so sure. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. The careful balance we’ve maintained between professional and personal is shattered. And somewhere in the city, Dmitri is probably seeing this same article, his carefully constructed world of privacy cracking around the edges.

My phone buzzes with a text from him.

Don’t read the news. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.

“He’s coming to get me?” I show Sofia the text. “Why? It’s just a trashy article.”

Sofia’s perfectly manicured fingers tap against her coffee cup, her expression guarded in a way I’ve never seen before. “There are... complications.”

“What kind of complications?”

She takes a careful sip of her latte, buying time. “The Ivanovs have enemies, Tash. Powerful ones.”

“They’re businessmen,” I say, but uncertainty creeps into my voice. “Everyone has competition.”

“It’s more than that.” Sofia won’t quite meet my eyes. “There are people who would do anything to hurt them. And now that you’re publicly linked to Dmitri...”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s not my place.” She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Just know that being with an Ivanov comes with risks. Real ones.”

Despite the warmth of the cafe, I’ve got goosebumps. I think of Dmitri’s security detail, the way his brothers always scan rooms before entering, and how he insists on driving me everywhere himself or sending his personal driver.

“Sofia, you’re scaring me.”

“Good.” Her voice is soft but firm. “You should be a little scared. Not of Dmitri—he’ll protect you with his life. But some dangerous people have been waiting for an opportunity like this.”

“An opportunity for what?”

Before she can answer, both our phones buzz simultaneously. Sofia checks hers first, her face paling slightly.

“Dmitri’s two minutes out,” she says, gathering her things. “Promise me something?”

I nod, still trying to process everything.

“Don’t go anywhere without letting him know. Not even to the corner store. Not right now.”

“You make it sound like I’m in danger.”

Sofia’s silence is more terrifying than any answer she could give.

The cafe door bursts open, and Dmitri strides in, his usual perfect composure nowhere to be seen. His dark hair is disheveled, like he’s been repeatedly running his fingers through it. His tie is slightly askew, which I’ve never witnessed before.

“We need to go. Now.” His ice-blue eyes scan the cafe, focusing on each patron before settling back on me.

“What’s going on?” I stand but plant my feet. “I’m not moving until you explain.”

“Tash.” His voice carries that edge of command that usually makes me shiver. Today, it makes me bristle. “The car. Please.”

“No.” I cross my arms. “You don’t get to just sweep in here and?—”

He steps closer, and I catch his familiar scent of sandalwood and masculine musk. “I will explain everything, but not here. Not where anyone can hear.”

“The article isn’t that bad,” I start, but he cuts me off with a sharp laugh.

“If it was just the article, we wouldn’t have this conversation.” His hand finds my lower back, urgent but gentle. “Please, kulkolka . Trust me.”

Something in his tone makes my protest die in my throat. I’ve never seen him like this, noting the barely contained energy and his messed up hair.

“Fine.” I grab my purse, letting him guide me toward the door. “But this better be good.”

Sofia catches my eye as we leave, her expression unreadable. Dmitri’s hand never leaves my back as he steers me toward the waiting car, and for the first time since this started, real fear begins to curl in my stomach.

The car door clicks shut, and Akim smoothly pulls away from the curb. I turn to Dmitri, my patience evaporating.

“Explain. Now.”

He stares straight ahead, jaw clenched. His knuckles whiten as he grips his phone.

“Dmitri.” I grab his wrist. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me it’s just about that article.”

He won’t look at me. Won’t even turn his head. This calculated silence only feeds my growing anger.

“So this is how it’s going to be? You drag me out of a cafe like there’s a bomb about to go off, but now you can’t even look at me?”

His phone buzzes. He checks it, types something rapid-fire, and then resumes his statue impression.

“Stop the car,” I demand. “If you don’t talk to me, I’m leaving.”

“Tash.” It’s barely a whisper.

“No. I’m done with this cryptic bullshit. Either tell me what’s happening or let me out.”

Finally, he turns to face me. The raw emotion in his eyes stops my breath. I’ve never seen him look so... haunted.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says slowly. “About my family. Things I’ve kept from you deliberately.”

“What kind of things?”

He runs a hand through his hair, further disheveling it. “The kind that makes that article the least of our problems.”

“Stop speaking in riddles.”

“The Ivanovs...” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “We’re not just businessmen. The empire wasn’t built on stock trades and real estate.”

My stomach churns as I had thought as much, but never had it confirmed. After all, they’re constantly surrounded by lawyers cleaning up their messes. Not to mention the security details are extreme even for billionaires, the careful scanning of rooms, and the way people seem to shrink away when the brothers enter a space.

“What are you saying?”

“The Ivanov empire is bratva.” Dmitri’s words hang in the air between us. “I run the legitimate front as CEO, but at our core, we’re organized crime. Russian mafia.”

My mind spins, trying to process this. The perfectly tailored suits, the business meetings, the philanthropic donations—all a facade. I knew he was a ruthless and dangerous businessman, the kind that could pay off anyone he wanted. But a mobster? I had considered it, but hoped I was wrong.

Why the fuck didn’t Sofia tell me?

“Two weeks ago, we entered a war with the Lebedev family.” His fingers dance on my cheek, but I flinch away. “And now that article has painted a target on your back.”

“A war?” My voice sounds strange to my own ears. “Like... actual violence?”

“Yes.” His bluntness makes me shiver. “Igor Lebedev has already lost several properties. He’ll retaliate soon.”

The cafe gossip, the charity galas, and the museum politics all seem absurdly trivial now. I’ve been playing at sophistication while swimming with sharks.

“That’s why you were so insistent about privacy.” It’s not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Being publicly linked to me puts you in danger. Igor Lebedev will see you as leverage.” Dmitri’s hand clenches into a fist on his thigh. “He’s already had people watching the museum.”

I dismissed both the strange man I noticed last week by the Egyptian wing and the car that seemed to follow me home yesterday as paranoia.

“Why tell me now?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Because that article stripped away any protection anonymity gave you.” His arctic blue eyes meet mine. “You need to understand what you’re involved in. What I really am.”

“You kept this from me.” My voice is tinged with anger and hurt. “This whole time, you could have told me, but you didn’t.”

“It was for your safety.” Dmitri’s jaw tightens. “I simply omitted certain truths.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Because ‘I run a criminal empire’ isn’t something worth mentioning before sleeping with someone? Or perhaps making me aware of the risks I was getting involved in by being with you.”

“Would you have given me a chance if I had?”

His question hangs between us. The worst part is I don’t know the answer.

“Take me home,” I say finally.

“That’s not possible.” His fingers drum against his thigh. “You won’t be safe there.”

“I need time to think.” I wrap my arms around myself, creating distance between us. “Put guards on my door if you want, but I need to be alone.”

Dmitri looks completely lost for the first time since I’ve known him. His perfect composure cracks, revealing something vulnerable underneath. He runs both hands through his hair, destroying its careful styling.

“Tash...” His voice breaks on my name.

“Please.” I return his stare. “If any of this was real, give me this.”

He stares at me for a long moment, then nods once, sharply. “I’ll have Akim take you. Two men will be outside your door, two more in the lobby.”

The control in his voice wavers, and I see how much this costs him. But right now, I can’t bring myself to care.