Ivy's POV “I'm telling you, I'm not some kind of international cat-napper,” I insist, my voice tight with frustration. “I'm just trying to get to New York.” “I'm afraid that's not my call to make, ma'am,” he replies, the coldness in his voice making the hairs on my arms stand on end. “You'll need to come with me to the security office for further questioning.” Further questioning? This is getting out of hand. Just shy of hysteria, I’m stopped dead in my tracks by a smooth, authoritative voice: “No more delays. She’s with me." My head whips around, my eyes wild with confusion and desperation, only to meet the steely gaze of a man who commands the air around him with nothing more than a well-tailored suit and the tone of his voice, “She's under my protection. That's all you need to know." The security officer looks dubious, the skepticism palpable in his furrowed brow. “Sir, I'm going to need a little more information than that.” But the man's expression doesn't so much as flick
Andrei's POV Paul's 'I tried my best' crap doesn't cut it. Best? Best isn't good enough. He should've done whatever it took to keep Ivy from leaving the country.I don’t bother hiding the annoyance in my voice as I bark orders at him. “You’re going to New York. You’re going to keep an eye on Ivy. Make sure she stays out of trouble." For now, it's time to shut down this operation. I won't risk Brielle's life. The danger I've already put her in makes me sick. My focus is solely on the monitors as I watch her every move. I'm holding my breath, waiting to see what happens next. But in a split second, everything goes dark. The screens flicker and die, and the equipment falls silent. No way. No freaking way. What just happened? I'm out of there in a flash, grabbing my coat and making a beeline for the door. It's when I see Odessa. She's just standing in the hallway, looking all calm and collected. She looks like she's waiting for someone, but her eyes lock onto mine, and I know she's
Brielle's POV Trapped between a rock and a hard place, with “rock” being Andrei’s iron jaw and “hard place” being Jeremy’s furrowed brow, I’m contemplating if there’s an ejector seat in this room that I can launch myself through. “Andrei's still in the picture? I thought you'd moved on, Brielle." Jeremy asks. “She’s here because I brought her here,” Andrei answers. “And whatever we have going on is none of your business. Brielle. Here. Now." He doesn’t raise his voice, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes me feel like I have no choice but to comply. “That ring doesn't belong on you. Take it off." “You’re serious?” I ask, my voice barely whisper. Andrei’s expression is as serious as a funeral march. “Dead serious.” His words are clipped, razor sharp. “Take it off, Brielle.” His hand is outstretched, waiting. I hesitate for a moment before sliding the ring off my finger and placing it in his palm. Andrei grabs the ring and forces it onto Jeremy's h
Brielle's POV Why so bright? I squint, shielding my eyes from the golden glare spilling through the curtains. It's not just the light that catches my attention – I feel Andrei's strong arms wrapped snugly around me, holding me close. I turn to face him, and oh man, he's so peaceful. His mouth’s slightly open, and he’s making these adorable little snuffly noises. His dark eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, and his hair is mussed. A tiny crease furrows his brow, as if he's concentrating on something even in his sleep.I've got a goofy grin plastered on my face, and I just can't seem to shake it. But then, I hear him mutter the name 'Odessa' in his sleep.Suddenly my grin doesn't feel goofy anymore... I watch, transfixed, as Andrei's face contorts in distress. His eyebrows furrow, his lips curl downward, and his eyes twitch beneath his eyelids. I gently nudge him. His eyes flutter open.He's awake, but he's not really here. His eyes are distant, like he's staring into a void. The
Brielle's POV Edna pads softly over to Andrei, her hands extended in a soothing gesture, ready to relieve him of Alexis's sleepy weight. With the little boy snug in her arms, she glides up the stairs, softly whispering promises of bedtime stories and cozy blankets. It's a nightly ritual, but one that never gets old. Andrei’s head snaps up, his eyes locking onto mine. The jolt that shoots through me is unexpected, like an electric current passing between us. But his gaze holds no warmth, no recognition. His lips part, the beginnings of a smile starting to play at the corners of his mouth. But then, his expression falters, as if he’s wrestling with something within himself. He glances at the clock, then back at me. “A little late for bed, isn't it?” “I was waiting,” I whisper, the words a promise, a vow. “Waiting for you, forever if I had to.” He frowns, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You're not even changed yet. You should get to bed.” I glance at him, the irony of the situa
Ivy's POV With a smile as wide as the city itself, I hop out of the cab, stretching my arms out to the sky and feeling the energy of the city coursing through my veins. “I made it,” I mutter to myself as I watch my cab driver peel away from the curb and disappear into the colorful chaos of New York traffic. I gather leather suitcase and matching trunk, adorned with travel stickers and scratches from countless adventures, into the gates of the Blank Slate Gallery. The space stretches out like a cathedral, high ceilings and sparse furnishing making it feel both grandiose and intimate at the same time. And get this: not a single piece of art graces these bare walls. The title of the gallery looks pretty much like the gallery itself – everywhere looks, well, blank. Like you'd expect the typical gallery activities – art installations, exhibitions, and chic gatherings – but there's nothing. On my way to the front desk, I see a cat. There's a cat, its fur a mesmerizing swirl of gray
Brielle's POV. Behind Andrei, I meet his gaze in the mirror. Glancing away from Andrei's reflection, I give myself the once-over. My blue eyes are a bit bloodshot, but my A-line bob is still looking fierce. I try to give myself a reassuring smile, but it comes out more like a wobbly grimace. “What's going on? You're not exactly subtle.” Andrei asks. He's undoing his tie, the silk slipping apart with a soft whisper. Next, he sheds his suit jacket, revealing a crisp white dress shirt. “Ivy,” I murmur, “She's a firecracker, isn't she?” “Paul's on his way to NYC, where he'll keep an eye on her. Here's hoping he's up for the task.” Ivy's not the one I'm actually worried about. There's someone else who's got me biting my nails, and it's him, Andrei. I'm no therapist, but even I know that when someone's calling out a name in their sleep, it's a big deal. Every time Andrei sleeps, it's 'Odessa, Odessa, Odessa'. It's no longer just the odd sleep talking episode; he's now forgetting t
Brielle's POV “Spare me the theatrics. Your 'I don't remember' act is an insult. We both know you recall every word, every accusation. Don't try to gaslight me. I'm not that gullible. Own up to your words, or at least, have the decency to come up with a more convincing lie.” A flicker of hurt crosses Andrei's face before his features settle into a mask of offended dignity. “The thought of me calling you a traitor is laughable, Brielle. You should know better than anyone how absurd that is. I love you, and I’d never accuse you of such a thing.” I take a deep breath, acknowledging the sting of regret. Well, Brielle, it looks like you've done it again. Opened mouth, inserted foot. Maybe next time you'll think before you speak. Then again, He's denying everything. Again. I know what I heard. I'm not crazy, and I'm not misremembering. “I don't know what else to do. I'm at my wit's end. Can we please, for the love of all things sane, just go talk to someone? A therapist, a counselor,
Brielle's POV Final chapter. “Fine,” Jeremy voice cracks with restraint, the single word drawn out in a reluctant admission. I'm low-key freaking out, my heart racing with anticipation. He's just about confessing. “I'm the one who orchestrated the whole thing. I snatched Brielle's parents right from under their noses, ripping them from their picture-perfect lives. i'd kidnapped her, held her captive against her will, and drained your bank accounts. But here's the kicker, Andrei… you're too little, too late. The police are already en route, and they're coming for you, not me.” I take a deep breath, my eyes burning with determination. “No way, Jeremy. I won't let you pin Jamie's murder on Andrei. He's innocent." He narrows his gaze at me, “You know, for a hostage, you're awfully opinionated.” I sneak a peek at Andrei, and his 'I've got this' expression makes me feel like everything's gonna be okay. I mean, Jeremy's still being his usual, awful self, but with Andrei's ca
Brielle's POV “Just trying to appreciate the finer things in life, Andrei. Like that fine-ass butt.” I admit feeling my face heat up. He chuckles, clearly enjoying my unabashed admiration, “that's… Probably the most creative compliment I ever heard and the way yours fills out that robe is criminal, Brielle.” I suppress the urge to turn around. This mutual butt appreciation is getting ridiculous – or ridiculously entertaining. He scans the room, gathering his belongings. Meanwhile, I stand there, a robe-clad without any to change into or not to talk of clothings to put in a box and yesterday's clothes that are so last season — literally. Just when the silence is about to get deafening, Andrei breaks it with a casual suggestion, “you should shower first.” My mind whirs. I’m thinking, Geez, how do I break this news to him without making it super awkward?” The last thing I want is to be standing there, naked, with no clothes to put on, while he just stares at me like I’ve gon
Brielle's POV I'm deliciously spent, my senses sated. Andrei executes a brief, yet vital, wardrobe adjustment, then turns around, patting his back invitingly, “Okay, up you go.” They say “there’s a first time for everything”, and today I’m getting my inaugural piggyback ride—. Courtesy of Andrei. With the grace of a seal gliding onto an iceberg, I slide my bare rear off the table, leaving behind only a warm imprint of my departure. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight as he firmly grasps my thighs, lifting me up. With his support, I hop onto his back. “Comfortable?” He asks. “Mhm, perfect.” Our journey begins with a trio of solid thuds, Andrei’s feet hitting the floorboards of the pavilion as he descends. The night air is refreshingly still and quiet… except for the sound of my nervous laughter and Andrei's steady breathing as he navigates the stairs. His usually steady gait falters, his foot catching on some unseen obstacle, and my weight threatens to send him
Brielle's POV He leans in again, His mouth hovering over my breast, “How many white lies have you told?” “One.” He pulls back, “Think again.” I knit my brow trying to focus, to pull my scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. It's a futile effort. I'm still drowning in waves of pure ecstasy. Andrei's lips close around my nipple, and I moan at the sudden sensation. He releases all too soon, again. “Two lies, baby” he purrs. “The first, when you said you never fucked yourself.” His words ignite a thrill that courses through my body, culminating in a sweet ache between my legs. “And the second when you denied ever having fantasies. Now, are you ready to confess them to me… and be rewarded?” His grip on my hand slackens, freeing my fingers to roam. He’s upon me, his mouth latching onto my nipple. Sensation overwhelm my ability to think as His tongue swirls and dances, only to pull back again, letting my nipple pop out of his mouth with a wet plop. I writhe be
Brielle's POV “I'd taken his crap before, no problem. He'd kick my ass, I'd take it. But watch him hurt a three-year-old?” That chuckle, that creepy-ass chuckle, is making my hair stand on end. Andrei's got a lot to say, needs to stop drowning in that drink and talk it out with me. Perhaps if we can get to the root of whatever’s got him so twisted, we can cut it out, get him right again. I screw up my courage, trying to keep my voice from cracking as I ask, “What happened next?” “I lost it. Charged at him and slammed him to the ground. I had him in a tight chokehold, crushing the air out of him. His face turned purple, eyes popping… Killing Archibald wasn't the plan. Just wanted to put the fear of God into him… In a wild twist, he managed to grab a blade and… Carved himself a nasty gash.” Andrei scrapes his thumb along the side of his neck, “This is where he sliced himself. Fucker cried assault. Tried to put me away for attempted murder.” “And Helen?” “Was locked up a
Brielle's POV He gives my earlobe a sneaky little nibble. Damn, if that doesn't stir up something inside me, “Why rush when the journey is half the fun, hmm? We've got lines to run, not lips to lock.” So glad Andrei's here to suck the fun out of… everything. What would I do without him? I'm two seconds away from giving him a good shove, just to knock him off his game. “What?” he asks, that infuriatingly smug smirk still slapped across his face. I purse my lips, cross my arms, “You're really asking 'what'? Like you don't know exactly what you're doing?” Andrei whips out a sheaf of papers from his back pocket, "Shall we begin?” I narrow my eyes, “You expect me to jump right into this after all your little games?” He chuckles, shrugging one shoulder in a charmingly nonchalant gesture. “It's all part of the rehearsal.” “Part of the rehearsal, huh?” I retort, “So that little earlobe nibbling number was in the script? I must have missed that memo.” He laughs," I figure
Brielle's POV My heart stutters, “What?” I try to speak. The words wouldn't come out. Not one single word is showing up to the party. Wearing a sidelong smirk, Andrei jerks his head towards the elevator, “she's been tapping her foot impatiently. Shall we give the poor thing some attention?” Nodding, I swallow my regret. Why didn't I just say something? “I'm intrigued, Brielle. This demure side of you is… unexpected.” He plunders the guest room closet, digging through piles of high-quality linens, designer clothes, and expensive accessories. it's basically a carbon copy of his own — super luxurious. I stand back, curious about what Andrei's searching for. My nerves are still on edge, which is… ridiculous. “Guess, I'll coax them out of you. Every last one.” My curiosity spikes, “How?” “All in good time. Shall we get you into something a bit more… refined?” The robe he hands me is a stunner — bold red, V-neck, and flowing long sleeves, all accented perfectly with
Brielle's POV. Drying soap bubbles speckle Andrei's hands as he meets my eyes, “What's so fascinating?” “It's your charm, Mr. Carter, that's got me in a stare.” His mouth curves into a sly, upward tilt, “You're not so bad yourself. Maybe we can stare at each other for a while and see who cracks first.” Deep down, I'm thinking, 'Seriously, Mr. Carter? Are you not seeing this ensemble?' Perhaps he's just trying to be kind? Yeah, that must be it. After completing the dishes, Andrei takes a moment to dry his hands before wandering over to where I'm sitting, his pace leisurely. I stare at his bare feet, my brain momentarily fixated on the sight. “Why no shoes, Mr. Carter?” “Walking barefoot is like a yoga practice. Builds up the balance, strengthens the soles, and gets you in touch with Mother Earth.” I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. How much of that is actually true, I wonder? He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me gently into his orbit. And suddenly, my focus shifts from An
Brielle's POV. Andrei’s sweatpants could have fit two of me—and the kitchen sink. He’s a big guy, but these pants were made for a grizzly bear on a beer bender. If I didn’t cinch the drawstrings tight enough, I’d be wading in a sea of fabric, wearing a tent masquerading as sweatpants. I’m halfway through adjusting my shirt when I catch a glimpse of my him in the kitchen. Oh, dear lord. The man might as well be wearing oven mitts for hands. I reach for a bottle of water, partly because I’m parched, and partly to cover up the fit of giggles that’s about to erupt from my lungs “You okay, chef?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face as I watch him fumble with the spatula. “Yeah, sure Brielle.” He scratches his forehead, and I can practically see the sweat beading up. Poor baby's never looked so stressed. “Sure you've totally got this, Andrei?” I survey the chaos, raising an eyebrow at the egg-astrophe. The shells are scattered everywhere and there's a bowl of what appears to be e