The man, Mikhail, smiles faintly. “You’ve heard of me?”

I haven’t, but that’s not surprising. My father never introduced me to any men who ran in his circles, and it’s clear Mikhail is a Bratva man. He has that air about him.

“I wasn’t aware I was standing before Bratva royalty,” Boris says, nodding slightly.

Mikhail tilts his head to the side as he looks between Boris and me. His dark eyes narrow slightly. It makes me gulp and shiver in fear. “Are you going to unhand Sofiya, or are you going to hold onto her like she’s your prized toy?”

Boris deliberately tightens his hand around my arm even more. A small cry escapes me. Mikhail doesn’t move, but his expression grows darker.

“Sofiya will be my wife,” Boris explains. “We’ve just agreed to that. Now, I need to be taking her home. Are you staying in New York for long?”

“I just had some business to attend to. Funerals to go to. Pay my respects.”

“You knew my father?” I ask. Something about Mikhail makes me want to know him more while, at the same time, run far away from him.

“I knew your father.” He doesn’t elaborate.

“Well, that’s been established,” Boris says. “Sofiya, come along. I’ll take you home.”

“My sisters are waiting for me in the car. I don’t need you to take me home. Our driver, John, will do that.”

Boris smiles. “Then I’ll join you.”

“I think I’ll join you, too,” Mikhail says, startling me. “I’d like to talk to you more, Sofiya. Meet your sisters. I’ll meet you at your house.” He doesn’t ask for permission. For some reason, that sends a spark through my body.

“I’m taking her home,” Boris says. He draws me closer to him, making me stumble. Is Boris trying to protect me from Mikhail or keep me from Mikhail? I can’t tell. There’s a danger to Mikhail that is intense.

But I can’t escape the obvious—Mikhail is a very handsome man, and Boris, well … isn’t.

“You do that, Boris. But I’ll just follow.” He gives me a nod. “I’ll see you there.” He walks away like he has all the time in the world.

“Come on,” Boris mutters, dragging me to the car. He rips the back door open and practically shoves me inside next to my sisters.

“What’s going on?” Vik asks as Boris gets into the passenger seat.

“Drive,” he barks at John, who does his job and starts driving.

“Are you ok?” Mila asks in a small voice. I try to smile for her, but I can’t. I’m too shaken up.

“I asked,” Vik says, raising her voice, “what is going on?”

“Boris wants to marry me,” I say. All I feel is numb. I don’t even think I felt my lips move when I spoke.

Vik does a double take. “What?”

“I decided I don’t want to marry you,” Boris tells my sister. “I want Sofiya instead. She’s much more … compliant.”

“You’re not marrying any of us,” Vik says.

Boris turns around in his seat and glares at her. “That’s not up to you. I get to marry one of you, and I’m choosing Sofiya.”

“I’m not going to let you.”

“You can’t stop me.” He pulls out his gun and points it at Vik’s head. The three of us jerk back in our seats. Mila clings to me and whimpers. Vik holds her head high even though I can see the fear in her eyes. “I’m not afraid to shoot a woman. Don’t test me.”

After a moment, Vik nods. Boris nods in return, puts his gun away, and sits back in his seat.

The three of us are silent on the drive back to our house.

We arrive as Mikhail pulls into the driveway.

“Who is that?” Vik asks, staring at Mikhail as he gets out of his car.

“Mikhail Ivanov,” I whisper. “That’s all I know. But I think he’s powerful.”

“How do you know?” Vik whispers back.

I nod at Boris. “His reaction said so.”

Boris grumbles under his breath as he gets out of the car. “Don’t dawdle, ladies. Get out.”

Mila and I hurry out of the car, but Vik takes her sweet time. From how Boris sneers, it’s clear she’s getting on his nerves.

Vik walks right up to Mikhail. “I’m Viktoriya Morozova.”

“I know.” He looks away from her to Mila. “And you’re Mila Morozova. I know all three of you.” He turns to me, completely ignoring everyone else. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

Do I want to invite Mikhail inside? He’s … bold. He’s assertive and arrogant. I think I’m slightly afraid of him, but my body sings to stand closer to him.

“Sofiya doesn’t invite people inside,” Vik says. “That’s my job as eldest sister.”

Mikhail doesn’t take his eyes off me. I feel like I’m drowning in his gaze.

Vik opens the door and walks inside. Boris quickly follows. Mila gives Mikhail a curtsy, which doesn’t seem to fit the occasion, before hurrying inside.

“Shall we?” Mikhail asks, motioning to the door.

I gulp and walk forward, stepping over the threshold. I can feel Mikhail right behind me—there’s a coolness radiating off him that sends shivers over my body.

“So, Mikhail, did you work with our father?” Vik asks, guiding us all into the living room. I take a seat on the couch, and Boris slides right in beside me. Mila looks at us with wide eyes as she perches on the edge of the couch.

Mikhail remains standing, resting his arm on the mantel. Vik makes a point of sitting near him. For some reason, that annoys me.

“On occasion,” Mikhail explains. “But I run my own business. In Russia.”

“You live in Russia?” Mila asks in an awed voice. “I’ve never met anyone who lives outside of the States.”

“It’s a big world out there,” he says. “And I’m in control of a lot of it.”