I Knew You Were Trouble

KAIA

The phone finally sprang to life. I patiently waited a few more minutes until it had enough power to open the app I needed. Cristo might have been a monster, but working for him meant I had access to the latest tech for my job.

Yet, even that hadn’t been enough to locate Irina. With a surge of newfound hope, I hurried back to the desk, charging cable in hand. I didn’t bother settling in.

Instead, I connected my phone to Aleksandr’s computer and launched my app. In less than thirty seconds, the blinking password box filled with blank dots before vanishing, revealing a home screen. I slumped back into the chair, guiding the mouse over the innocent-looking folders on his desktop.

There was the usual business stuff—contracts, ledgers, even what appeared to be house plans. Finding nothing of interest, I clicked on his email. The sheer number of unread emails gave me a headache just looking at them.

Clearly, the pakhan was a busy man. Maybe he didn’t trust anyone enough to let them sift through his mail? As I scrolled, a familiar icon caught my eye—~Pink Pony~.

It was the name of an auction house Cristo frequently used to buy and sell girls. I knew because I’d seen the invitations in his inbox. I hovered over the icon and double-clicked the email.

A screen popped up. It congratulated him on being approved for an auction happening in twelve hours. There were pictures of girls in the email, each with stats, presumably based on a questionnaire he filled out about his preferences.

~What the hell? Why is Aleksandr interested in young girls? And why does my heart drop at the thought that I might have been wrong about him?~

~If Aleksandr is trying to get rid of these things, why is he participating?~

I searched his email for the Pink Pony and nearly a dozen more emails appeared—previous auctions and confirmations of Aleksandr’s successful bids on several girls. ~What does he do with these girls? Does he sell them? Use them?~

A wave of nausea hit me as I realized I was diving into a rabbit hole when I should have been focusing on my mission. I closed his email and searched for Lipeshin on his computer.

A folder popped up, hidden within another folder labeled ‘Viktor’—Aleksandr’s father and the former pakhan. I couldn’t click fast enough. The screen filled with icons—documents, pictures, everything.

I gasped. There were hundreds of ledgers from my father’s businesses. Copies of emails of him buying and selling boys and girls. There was too much to go through, so I started copying them to my phone to read later.

I’d barely copied a few folders when the door clicked open. I scrambled to close windows and disconnected my phone as a large figure entered, his expression stern.

“Come on, devochka. Upstairs,” Feliks said, his voice firm.

It was the first time I’d seen this side of him, and I had to remind myself that, despite being Aleksandr’s chef, he was likely as dangerous as the enforcers outside. I didn’t try to hide what I’d been doing.

I was already caught, and Feliks would undoubtedly tell Aleksandr. I stood, slipping the phone behind my back so Feliks couldn’t see, and left the office.

Feliks locked the office door with a loud click and waited, his gaze never leaving me, until I descended the stairs and headed to my room. I was grateful he didn’t follow. I glanced down the hall at Aleksandr’s room but didn’t go in.

I had no doubt he would follow through on his threat, but I felt guilty about going through the files I’d stolen in his bed. Instead, I climbed into my own bed, opened the three folders I managed to copy, and started reading.

A few hours later, I jerked awake. Goosebumps prickled my skin. I felt watched, and the heavy scent of tobacco lingered in the air.

My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light. When they did, I spotted the familiar silhouette of a man perched by the window, one ankle resting on his knee, the faint glow of a cigar held in his strong fingers.

“Aleksandr?”

He sighed, extinguishing the cigar on a small dish on the windowsill.

“Ty byla neposlushnoy devochkoy, kotik” ~You’ve been a naughty girl, kitten.~

His voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of steel, hinting at his anger.

“I…I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I stammered, slowly sitting up in bed, trying to suppress the fear that was creeping up my spine.

Aleksandr rose to his full height and approached the bed. His dark eyes locked onto mine. His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

“Don’t you?” he asked, drawing out the question. “I told you what happens to naughty little girls who try to make a fool of me. Are you ready for your punishment?”

Our eyes drifted to the phone, lying where it had fallen from my hand when I’d fallen asleep reading. There was so much information. I couldn’t decide which version of Aleksandr was the real one, and I’d only just begun to delve into those files.

Was he the pakhan the world saw? Cold. Ruthless. Hell-bent on destruction for anyone who dared cross his path. Or was he the man still mourning his wife, determined to rid the world of monsters like his own father? After what I’d seen on his computer, I couldn’t be sure.

“I’m sorry. You can have—”

He reached out, his hand closing around my throat, his fingers tightening, cutting off my air. My hands flew up, slapping at his arms. But he didn’t budge.

His gaze was steady, no longer the tender man who had held me in his arms on the dance floor. Or on his lap in the car.

“You knew there would be consequences to your actions, kotik,” he said.

For the first time, I felt a real fear of what he might do to me, if he chose to.

“W-what are you going to do?” I managed to choke out.

His hand fell from my neck. His voice took on a sinister tone.

“You’re going to run, little kitten, and if I catch you, you’re ~mine~.”