Page 192 of Sinful Blaze

I fucking love her.

No one can steal that from me. Not her parents, not her abandoned name, not some wannabe artist or his psycho pseudo-fiancée.

I shove my chair back, grab my things, and jog to the door, head whirling. On my way home, I’ll grab a bouquet of flowers. Maybe some jewelry. I’m not a man accustomed to apologizing, but I have to start somewhere.

I’m going to fix this.

We’re going to be just fine.

I take a deep breath as I ride the whyisitsofuckingslow elevator down to the main floor. “C’mon, you son of a bitch, go faster, go?—”

The doors open to a swarm of police filling the lobby.

Guns point at me from every direction. Voices shout at me to get down, put my hands in the air, drop whatever I’m carrying. The building officers at the security desk look completely shocked.

As am I.

So much so that I almost forget about the safety alarm button programmed in my key fob.

Without a word, I slowly raise my hands with a nod of confirmation so they know I’m not armed, I’m not going to pull any swift moves against them, I understand the orders. My coat is slung over one arm and my keys were already clutched in my hand before the elevator opened, so I have to do whatever it takes to not get accidentally shot.

I keep my hands open, only holding the keys to my palm with my thumb. They need to see it’s not a gun.

They won’t see that I’ve pressed the button to alert Mak and Sofi about their presence.

A man in an untailored business suit steps forward with a pair of cuffs in his hand. “Pasha Chekhov, you’re under arrest for violations in arms trafficking, racketeering, and money laundering. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

My keys and coat are taken from me. My arms are yanked behind my back and cuffed and they haul me outside to a waiting squad car.

I maintain my silence, even as they taunt and threaten and try to goad me into speaking. By the time we get to the station, my phone will be completely wiped. Mak and Sofi are already gathering our legal team and preparing to meet me there.

“We’ve had our eyes on you for a while,” one of the officers remarks as we pull away from the building. “This should be interesting.”

It should be fast, too. I don’t care what dirt they think they have—it won’t be enough to hold me.

I have to get home to Daphne.

72

DAPHNE

I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried everything.

I’ve tried calling him. Texting him. Video chat. Email. I even googled “carrier pigeon.”

Pasha wants nothing more to do with me.

Sofi’s been a listening ear, but she doesn’t know what Pasha is doing or why he’s ghosting me. Mak is the same; he even took me for a smoothie run just to help me get out of the house for a bit. Asya visits me every day to make sure I eat. I’m pretty sure if she didn’t, I wouldn’t be eating at all.

Thursday was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. I asked Viktor to drive me to the office, thinking that maybe it was time to face Pasha in person. We got there, he escorted me into the building, and we were stopped by security.

“Apologies, ma’am—you’re not cleared for entry.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. “Are you sure? I’m Daphne Covington. Pasha’s girlfriend.” I rested a hand on my swollen womb just for good measure.

The guard solemnly nodded. “I’m sure. I’m sorry, but we can’t let you through.”

Even Viktor didn’t like this turn. He scowled, stepped forward, and braced a hand on what I hope was his wallet in his back pocket. “Did you hear what she said?” At the guard’s nod, he glared even harder. “You recognize me, yes? So what’s the problem?”

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