Inked Adonis: Chapter 39

There’s a bruise on my hip.

It’s still forming, blooming like a flower that’s not quite sure if springtime is here yet. I can relate—none of this feels trustworthy to me yet, either.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was sure it was winter. It was cold, harsh, unrelenting. Sam’s eyes were arctic as he sneered in my face and called me an unredeemable liar.

And now, there’s a bruise on my hip that he left there when he held me close to him and shattered me apart, again and again. I begged for that stupid bruise, didn’t I? I wanted it so fucking bad.

I still do. Even now, I can’t stop tracing the outline of it, poking it just to feel the dull, pleasant ache.

Twenty-four hours ago, I thought Samuil was gone from my life forever.

Now, my body still bears his mark.

I sigh and shrug my clothes back into place. The sheets are still warm from where Samuil slept with me tucked under his arms, but he rose early and kissed me goodbye with a whispered promise to be back soon.

Bodyguards will be with you today, he told me. They’ll follow you everywhere. And before you argue, know that I’m only doing it because I love you and want you to be safe.

Even to the bathroom? I asked.

Yes, Samuil answered. Even to the bathroom.

And sure enough, when I step out into the living room of my apartment, a tall man in a suit and crew cut is perched politely on my couch.

“Frederik, ma’am,” he says by way of introduction. He seems nice enough, but he doesn’t smile. His face doesn’t look like it knows how.

I nod back and pour him coffee that he accepts but doesn’t drink. When I’m caffeinated enough to face the day—and deal with the pair of spoiled dogs who’ve been following every step I’ve taken all morning—I put on my shoes and this makeshift little family goes trotting to the park.

A pleasant hour passes. The crisp October air bites at my cheeks as we follow our usual path, fallen leaves crunching under our feet.

It’s funny how much has changed and how much has stayed the same. A month ago, my biggest concern was keeping Rufus from terrorizing squirrels. Now, I’m counting exits, studying faces, looking for threats. The weight of Samuil’s world settles a little heavier on my shoulders with each passing day. I can feel it, like Frederik is tethered to me.

Or at least, like he was. But when I peek over my shoulder, I don’t see Frederik anymore.

“Stealthy, that one,” I mumble.

Not that I mind. Out of sight, out of mind, right? The less I see of Frederik, the less I need to think about what Samuil said about his enemies wanting to kill him.

I scan the park again, slower this time. Couples on morning walks. A woman doing yoga by the water. Nothing obviously threatening, but my stomach clenches anyway. Samuil’s paranoia is apparently contagious.

I tug Rufus away from whatever tree-bound rodent has his attention and look for a bench where I can gather myself. Maybe I’ll call Samuil, just to hear his voice. To remind myself that all this insanity—the bodyguards, the danger, the way my heart races when he touches me—is worth it.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

The voice comes from behind me. I whirl around, barely stifling a scream.

A man leans against an oak tree, regarding me with eyes that strike a chord of recognition deep in my chest. He’s older—late sixties, maybe—but his shoulders are broad under his tailored suit. Salt-and-pepper hair swept back from a face that holds echoes of someone else’s features.

Rufus growls and tugs at the leash. “And isn’t he a beautiful boy, too?” the man remarks with a chuckle that raises goosebumps along my arm. “Though he could use some proper training.”

I pat Rufus’s side to hide my trembling fingers. “We’re working on it.”

“It takes a special kind of woman to control a beast like that.” His blue eyes—so familiar it makes my stomach clench—scan me from head to toe. “Then again, some beasts can’t be tamed, no matter how… dedicated the trainer.”

Is this guy hitting on me right now? I’m prepared to smile and thank him for the weird-ass compliment before running the hell away, but when our eyes meet, there’s something even more sinister there.

For reasons I can’t quite put my finger on, I look around for my bodyguard.

“If you’re looking for Frederik,” the man remarks, “he’s buying himself a pretzel across the street.”

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. “Y…you know Frederik?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. “I sign his paychecks.”

It takes me only a second to put two and two together. I should’ve known it the second I looked at him. The build, the blue eyes, the suit…

“You’re Sam’s father.”

“I thought I’d have to spell it out for you, but you’re quick.” He applauds mockingly. “Would you mind if we sit, Nova? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

I’m at a loss. I made an emergency plan for what to do if I ran into Katerina again—yes, “screaming and running in the opposite direction” counts as a plan—but I have no idea what to do with my boyfriend’s father.

This isn’t some random creep I can tell to fuck off. This is Leonid Litvinov, the man who shaped Samuil into who he is, for better or worse.

So I sit.

Leonid Litvinov settles himself down a little closer to me than is strictly necessary and drapes one arm over the back of the bench, brushing my shoulders. The casual possessiveness of the gesture makes my skin crawl.

The dogs pace restlessly, picking up on my unease.

“I used to raise dogs,” Leonid says pleasantly.

“Right. Samuil told me you had mastiffs.”

Samuil also told me the dogs were literal demon spawn, but I don’t mention that part. Leonid’s face betrays nothing. “Beautiful dogs,” he sighs fondly. “Fierce. Violent.”

I have a strong feeling those words all mean the exact same thing to him.

A shiver moves down my spine, and I do my best to suppress it. “Is there a reason you’re here right now?”

“Curiosity, mostly.” He turns to peer down at me. “I wanted to meet the woman who has bewitched my son so thoroughly.”

Bad idea. This is a bad, bad idea. The same gut-churning dread I felt that day with Katerina in the park is back with a fucking vengeance.

“Oh, well, unfortunately, I don’t have long to chat.” I glance towards the entrance of the park like I’m expecting someone. “Sam is coming to meet me.”

Leonid just smiles. “I happen to know he’s at the rink right now.”

I almost ask how he knows that, but I’m not sure I want to know how many eyes are on me at all times.

“I’m the one who pushed him into hockey. I hoped it would be a good outlet for him—a way to channel his baser instincts. But apparently—” His eyes skim over me. “—he has different avenues for that now.”

That crisp in the air is downright frigid all of a sudden.

“He is good, though.” Leonid seems almost disappointed to admit it. “He toyed with the idea of playing professionally. But I had to quash all that silliness.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because he is my son.” There’s steel in his voice now. “And as my son, he had an empire to inherit. I couldn’t allow his focus to be split. He’s too smart to be wasted elsewhere.”

Samuil is smart, but it doesn’t sound like a compliment when his father says it. It sounds more like he’s saying a knife is sharp or a car is fast.

To Leonid, Samuil is a tool. A thing to be manipulated and used for whatever he needs.

An object.

Not a person.

“But even the smartest of men can have blind spots,” Leonid continues, angling himself towards me. “I fear you might be one of them.”

I grip the dogs’ leashes a little tighter, scooting back to the edge of the bench. “If you’re here to accuse me of being a spy, don’t bother. Been there, done that. I’m not, and Sam knows it. He trusts me.”

“Mm.” Leonid’s eyes narrow. “You seem like a smart woman, too. That’s why I know you won’t be shortsighted enough to refuse the offer I’m about to make you.”

I stand abruptly, both dogs plastering themselves to my legs. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

The air races out of my lungs. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a budding entrepreneur, aren’t you?” He stays slouched comfortably on the bench. Face calm, voice calmer. To anyone who walked by, it would look like two old friends catching up. “You could put it towards your little dog-walking venture.”

“You want to… invest in my business?”

“Dear God, no.” He laughs, cruel and sharp, and adjusts the strap of his watch. “I want nothing to do with your business. This is not an investment; it’s a gift.”

I cross my arms. “And what do you expect in return for this very generous ‘gift’?”

“I knew you were smart.” He winks at me, though all it does is make my stomach churn. “All you have to do to claim the gift is disappear. Take the money and leave.”

And there it is.

“You don’t want me with Samuil.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near my empire,” he corrects. “Really, I should’ve had you killed after your connection to the Andropovs was revealed. But money is less messy.”

My heart thuds painfully in my chest. I’m standing in a park, talking with my boyfriend’s father about my possible assassination.

I don’t know whether to laugh or throw up.

“I don’t want your money.”

The smile that smears across his lips reminds me so much of Ilya that my stomach lurches again. He stands, rising a full head taller than me.

“Perhaps I should be clearer. I could just as easily wipe away all traces of your existence and no one would remember your name but me, Nova Pierce. But I’m an old man; I’ve seen enough death, and if it’s not necessary, I prefer methods that don’t cause such a mess.” He saunters closer, hemming me in against the wide base of a tree. “Which is why I’m giving you the choice. The same one I gave Samuil’s mother: take the money and start your life fresh somewhere else… or deal with the consequences of refusing me.”

I’m not sure what comes over me just then. Maybe it’s the dogs barking. Maybe it’s the blissfully ignorant pedestrians meandering past this cold-blooded threat of murder.

Or maybe it’s that the sudden burst of sunlight that pierces through the gray clouds overhead makes Leonid Litvinov look old and fragile enough that I could kick in his knee and be back in the penthouse before he could even call for help.

Whatever it is, I laugh.

Right in his fucking face.

“I can’t be bought.”

It’s the first time I see his mask crumble. He’s not a man who’s used to being laughed at.

“A million, then,” he snarls. “It’s my final offer. You won’t get better.”

“No deal.” I pull Rufus and Ruby after me. I really need to start visiting a different dog park.

“You’ll need to get better dogs, my dear,” Leonid calls after me even as I pretend I can’t hear him. “Those two mutts aren’t vicious enough to protect you from what’s coming.”