Andrei grunts and tries to pry Mikhail’s fingers away, but Mikhail has an advantage—he has possession on his side. Possession of me. Mikhail will do anything to protect me.

I gasp as Mikhail keeps pressing down into Andrei’s eyes until Andrei can’t fight it any longer. The scream that escapes Andrei is chilling. I watch in horror as Mikhail jams his fingers so far into Mikhail’s eyes that blood spurts out.

Andrei doesn’t stop screaming once.

A security guard barges into the room and stops once he sees Mikhail. It’s clear from the guard’s face he won’t intervene. He must know who Mikhail is.

Mikhail finally lets Andrei go and stands up. His hands are covered in blood. Andrei’s blood.

But Andrei is still alive. He’s pressing his hands into his eyes as if that will help. But I caught a glimpse before Andrei covered his eyes—they were red and black.

Mikhail just blinded Andrei. All because Andrei was looking at me.

I know I should be horrified. I know I should never want Mikhail to touch me again.

But all I can think is—karma.

Andrei thought he could get his hands on me. He forced me to get naked before him. If it weren’t for Mikhail finding me, then who knows what Andrei would have done to me back at his house that day?

It’s karma, pure and simple.

And it makes me laugh.

I can’t stop laughing, not even as Mikhail scoops me up into his arms, his blood-stained hands leaving red marks behind on my dress, and carries me out of the club. No one stops us.

I don’t stop laughing as he sets me in the car. I don’t stop laughing as he starts the car.

And I don’t stop laughing all the way home.

Chapter

Sixteen

SOFIYA

My laughter finally abates when Mikhail sets me down on our bed.

“Are you all right?” he asks. Mikhail isn’t the most emotional man. Usually, his expressions range from stern to lustful. But right now, he’s looking at me with concern, showing me he does care for me.

“You blinded Andrei.” I giggle at the memory.

Mikhail sighs deeply and sits beside me. “I know I did. And you haven’t stopped laughing since. I’m guessing you’re not all right.”

“I’m laughing. How can I not be all right?”

“Sofiya, talk to me.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull away and stand up, a sudden, intense anger filling me.

“How can I talk to you when you never talk to me?”

He frowns. “I talk to you all the time.”

“No. I mean, personally. You’re asking me to tell you how I feel, but you never share anything remotely personal about yourself. I had to find out about Natasha through Mary, and I had to find out about your son through Boris, of all people. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“You’re no longer laughing.”

“No, I’m pissed.”

Mikhail tilts his head, looking me over. It’s like he’s scrutinizing me, and I hate it. “You’re not acting like my good girl right now.”

“I’m tired of being your good girl and getting nothing in return.”

“I provide for you. I take care of you. What more can you want?”

“You!” I shout as my anger and fear and shock bubble over. Mikhail’s eyes widen. “I want to know you, Mikhail. You haven’t told me a thing about your past. I don’t even know your son’s name.”

His head bows as he breathes deeply until he finally looks back at me. “Alexei. My son’s name was Alexei.”

I expected a fight, not for Mikhail to tell me that.

“Oh,” I say, the anger deflating from me. “That’s a nice name.”

“I picked it out. It means ‘protector of men.’ I thought it would make him strong so that when he grew up, he could take after me. Except …”

“Except he didn’t get the chance to grow up,” I finish for him.

Mikhail nods once. “He was five.”

I gasp and slowly sit back down beside him. “That’s … I can’t imagine losing a child. Let alone one so young.”

“He was murdered.”

My entire body freezes. When Mikhail told me his son had died, I assumed it was from something like a car crash. Common occurrences that cause unfair deaths. Not murder. Murder never crossed my mind.

“He was only five years old and was murdered.”

“Oh, Mikhail.” I place my hand on his arm, and he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he leans in a little closer.

“I found him when I came back home. Covered in blood. Stab—” He cuts off suddenly. I’ve never seen this expression on his face before—it’s pure anguish. “He was stabbed to death.”

“By who?”

He makes a sound between a laugh and a scoff. “By a man named Ivan Petrov. He was my father’s rival and became mine after I took over. He’s dead now. Died of a heart attack. I didn’t even get to have my revenge.”

“You told me before your wife also died. Did she …”

“No. She was attacked by Ivan and his men, but she survived. She had to watch our son get killed while they were …” He roughly shakes his head. “While they raped her.”

I’m scared to even speak. Mikhail is revealing so much. It’s no wonder he didn’t want to talk about it before. If this had happened to me, I don’t even think I’d be able to speak at all.