16 | You Can Always Fight

"SO, UM, DO YOU HAVE a name?" I asked hesitantly. We had just pulled up at the Docks and my quiet driver still hadn't said a word. He'd been whistling for most of the journey—some sort of jovial, upbeat tune that didn't match his harsh appearance at all.

"Vadim," he responded without turning around. I could hear Misha and Fedor's low growls just outside the car so I was hesitant to get out.

"Nice to meet you, Vadim," I said with as much warmth as I could convey. If I was going to be working for Alexei, I figured I should be pleasant towards his men.

Vadim said nothing. He started whistling again—that same, joyful tune. I sat in the back and wondered what the hell I was supposed to do next. If I got out of the car, I risked being savaged by the guard dogs, or wandering somewhere I wasn't meant to be. No, I concluded, I probably shouldn't get out. I should stay right here.

A knock on the window made me jump with fright as I turned around to see Alex. He peered through the glass and then threw the door open suddenly. Misha and Fedor were hot on his heels, but they both stood obediently off-guard.

"Grace," Alexei greeted. He wore a pale blue shirt tucked into his suit trousers and a red tie around his neck. If his gunshot wounds still bothered him, he showed no sign of it—in fact it was almost as though he'd never been hurt at all.

"Alexei," I nodded curtly, swinging my legs around the edge of the seat so that I could jump down. He arranged his lips into a crooked smirk that crinkled his eyes just enough to soften them. "You look well," I observed.

He caught my chin between his fingers and tilted my head. "You look tired," he said, "have you slept?"

The way his eyes lingered for just a second too long on my hair, I could tell he knew I hadn't brushed it. In fact, I probably still had sleep in my eyes. Pulling away from his touch, I shook my head, "not really, no."

"You should."

Without another word Alexei turned and strode away from me. Misha and Fedor took a moment to nuzzle into my palms before taking cover under their capsized boat in the middle of the yard. I watched Alex go and wondered if I was supposed to follow. "Are you coming?" he called back.

I followed him across the yard and into the lofty warehouse, careful to stay a little behind. The prospect of walking side by side—of him being able to look at me, look into my eyes—sent my heart into a spasm. I had chosen to see Alexei over my old job; I had chosen the option that meant I didn't have to never see him again. But what that meant was something I was afraid of discussing.

"You don't make things easy, do you?" I said lightly as he pulled the tile away from the floor in the tiny, hidden room.

"Careless things are easy," Alex replied flatly. "I've no time for carelessness."

He gestured for me to descend first into the darkness and so, pursing my lips, I stepped down. Just like it had the first time, the cool air chilled my ankles and made my hair stand on end. I could feel it prickling against the back of my neck, almost as though somebody's hand was hovering just a millimetre away. I clenched my fists to suppress the shudder that wanted to curl down my spine.

When my feet finally hit flat ground I wasn't expecting it—I could feel the motion jarring my bones as they met more resistance than they should have. "Don't you have any bloody lights?" I cursed quietly, the darkness seeming to swallow up my voice.

"No." The answer came quickly and much closer than I expected—I jumped as I felt Alexei's hand land on my waist. Even through my tshirt I could feel the heat of his touch, fingers digging lightly into my skin. Suddenly the darkness became electrified as I strained to see through it. I wanted to know where Alex was stood, what expression he wore, if his cheeks had flamed red just like mine.

I couldn't tell, and then he was gone. His fingers grazed my hipbone as he moved his hand to type into the keypad on the wall. I stood very still, with my lips pressed very tightly together. I pushed my hands into my pockets so it didn't look like they were shaking.

Alex punched a final number into the pad and then the door slid noiselessly open. On the other side of it, things were different. A fresh vase of flowers sat on the coffee table and warm lights bathed the room in brightness. Any evidence of Alexei's injuries had been disposed of—the bloody sofa cushions, the stained rug, both of them were nowhere to be found.

Lingering in the doorway uncertainly, I watched as Alex strode across the room. His tan shoes looked so well polished they may as well have been new, yet his sleeves which were rolled up to the elbow gave the impression of hard work and grit. He turned to face me and without breaking eye contact leaned against the coffee table.

"So here's how it's going to be, Grace," he said, arms folded. "This is where you work—you don't go anywhere else, not if someone tells you to, not if you're looking for me, not for anything. Understood?"

"I—"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

Alex watched me closely for a second, probably for some measure of truth. "Good," he said, nodding. "My men are often injured, many will die—" his eyes flickered to the right of the large room which was set up like an operating theatre, "—probably on that table over there."

"I know."

"Under your hands," he added sternly. I could feel his watchful gaze measuring my reaction to those words—but they didn't surprise me. "Are you prepared for that, Miss Perne?"

I met his gaze and said firmly, "yes."

"Really?"

"Are you doubting my abilities, Mr—" I paused as I realised that I didn't actually know Alexei's surname.

"The less you know about me, the better," he said. "And you should know better than to think I would doubt your abilities, Miss Perne. What I am doubting is your ability to cope with death."

"People die, Alex," I snapped. "It happens."

He moved one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. "And the people around me die far quicker than most."

"You haven't had me around before," I argued, "things could be different."

"Perhaps," Alex shrugged. "But you can't fight death forever."

"You can always fight."

His eyes flew open suddenly and locked onto my own. A small smile flitted across his face for a second before being replaced by his usual stoic mask. "Be that as it may, you won't always win."

"You lose 100% of the time if you don't try," I pointed out. "What exactly is it that you're trying to prepare me for? I've seen people die before, you know. And yeah, it's horrible, but I'm not just going to break down."

"That remains to be seen."

"Try me."

"Oh believe me, I will," Alex said cockily and I raised a brow. He pushed off the coffee table and walked towards the operating theatre. I followed slowly behind. "You don't have to be here at all times, only when you're needed. If there's an emergency, we'll call—and you'll answer."

"What if I'm busy?" I asked.

"Don't be."

"So I should put my whole life on hold in case you phone me?"

"No," he said flatly. "You should just be prepared to drop whatever it is you're doing."

We lapsed into silence as I looked around the medical supplies stashed into various cupboards. There really was almost everything you could need. While that made me wary about how Alexei had procured such wares, I knew by now that the answer was probably nothing legal. "So, am I in danger by doing this job?" I wondered, reading the label on a bottle of morphine.

Suddenly Alexei was right beside me. He took the bottle and put it back on the shelf, leaning a hand against the cupboard. "Danger?" he asked with a slight smirk. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

I swallowed, "yeah. Like, this isn't legal, so..."

"So will the blows fall in your direction?" He shrugged. "No. If it came to that—and it won't—but if it did, we're pretty good at covering our tracks. You didn't obtain any of this medicine—" he gestured widely around the room, "—and there are loopholes around the illegal practicing of surgery."

"So what you're asking me to do is illegal?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"Of course it makes a bloody difference!" I frowned at Alex who only chuckled. I took a step closer to him with my arms folded crossly but then realised just how tall he was. He towered above me.

"So you'd leave if the answer was yes?" he asked, looking down at me.

"Well...no, but—"

"Then it doesn't matter. The less you know, Grace, about who I am and what we do, the better it is for you." He tucked a finger under my chin and tilted my head up so I would meet his probing eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah," I swallowed. "But I don't see how you're going to keep it all from me."

Alex's finger traced along my jaw as he smiled amusedly. "That's the beauty of keeping something from someone," he said, "they don't see."

My brain wanted to come up with some smart arse response but I was too preoccupied with the feel of his touch. He skimmed along the edge of my jaw, occasionally brushing my throat just light enough to make me wanting more. I held very still and tried to keep my breathing even.

"Your pulse." His thumb pressed to a vein in my neck very lightly. "It's racing."

"Um—"

"For a surgeon, you're surprisingly hot under the collar." Alexei's eyes were twinkling with obvious amusement at my discomfort. Then his face fell into its usual serious mask and his hands dropped away from me as he took a step back. "You need to learn to keep cool under pressure."

I couldn't believe this man! But of course I was hot under the collar when he touched me like that. It wasn't exactly the same as performing an operation on someone. I opened my mouth to argue with him but he'd already turned away and was walking back across the room.

"Where are you going?" I demanded.

Alexei turned on me then, his eyes flashing dangerously. Immediately my breath caught and I took a step back. "That tone," he spat. "Don't use it with me again."

For a moment I was too stunned to speak. Alex had just done a complete 180 for no apparent reason. The tone of his voice had been more chilling than I'd ever heard it before—he sounded, for the first time, like he really was dangerous. But if he thought he could just speak to me like that he had another thing coming.

"Do you have a personality disorder, or something?" I asked brazenly. He halted again and slowly turned around.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you had a personality disorder. You're giving me whiplash."

Alex was silent for a moment. He just kept on staring at me with those intense eyes of his. I could see his jaw clenching and unclenching, which, under other circumstances, may have been hot. Okay it was hot anyway but I tried not to get distracted by it. "Grace," he said simply. He took one large step towards me and then cupped my head between his hands. I felt suddenly very small. Like he could fracture my skull or kiss me so tenderly I melted—and I'd never know which he was more likely to do. I could feel his thumbs against my cheekbones, his fingers in my hair. His nose was so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of his exhalations. "Grace, Grace, Grace," he whispered. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"Um—" he was right, the only idea I had in that moment was how sexy his husky accent was, "—about what?"

I was so hyper aware of the places we were touching. I could feel it when his right thumb moved just a tiny bit, across the hollow beneath my cheekbone. I could feel how hot his skin was as he implored me to listen. "This isn't some joke."

"I know that," I defended.

"Then why are you treating it like one?"

"I'm not, I—" I just can't concentrate when you're touching me. Instead of saying what I really meant, I opted for the marginally safer option. "I'm sorry. I just expected that when I came to work for you you might treat me with an ounce of respect."

Alex's little finger brushed against the sensitive skin behind my ear, just grazing my hairline. "Respect is earned," he said. "You haven't earned mine."

I couldn't keep doing this. I couldn't think with him so close. Before I could change my mind I pushed his hands off and stepped away. "I could always go back to the hospital. I haven't quit my real job yet—I don't have to be here, you know."

"Yet here you are."

"Maybe this was a mistake," I countered angrily.

Alexei appraised me for a moment and then shrugged as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Maybe," he agreed. He walked back towards the door through which we had come and I watched him, open mouthed.

"So that's it?" I growled. "You don't care?"

He didn't turn around as he asked, "about what?"

"Me being here!"

"I never said that."

"Then why are you walking away?" I said exasperatedly. This man was really driving me up the wall.

Alex paused with his hand on the handle and met my gaze. "I am Alexei Ivanov. I don't ask people to do things, I tell them. And I certainly don't beg. So if you want to go back to that shitty hospital, by all means, Grace, be my guest. And if you don't want to go back, then I suggest you get to work."

The emotional part of me wanted to tell him where to stick this stupid ass job. She wanted to scream that she didn't care and walk out like it meant nothing. But it didn't mean nothing. So instead, I asked, "what about my salary?"

"Figures, you're here for the money," Alex rolled his eyes. "They all are."

"Well I'm certainly not here for you," I shot back spitefully.

My comment rolled off him like it meant nothing. "Check your bank account, I've already transferred you a starting bonus. Stay or leave, that's yours to keep. Otherwise, you'll be paid monthly."

"How much—?"

"Enough."

And with that Alex left and slammed the door behind him. While one part of me was crushed, the other felt victorious. Because now I had something to go by—a surname.

Alexei Ivanov.

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