Viktor
I’ve ordered Millie to stay in my bedroom until I’ve at least moved the body. I call Stepan over to assist me, informing him that he needs to bring at least two others if we’re going to be efficient about it.
This Erik guy is pretty damn big. I hate to think of how he used to use his imposing size to intimidate people like Millie. I feel absolutely no remorse for killing him, and I hope he suffered extensively in his last moments.
Stepan arrives with two of the younger guys with him, Mikhail and Slava. I’ve worked with these two before. I know they’ll be unfazed by the situation. Those are the kinds of men I need out on the streets, not Nikolai.
“So, what happened?” Stepan asks hesitantly, stepping over to Erik’s body and kicking him slightly.
“He got into the penthouse somehow. I guess he must have followed Millie home from the bakery. That dude was fucked up. I’m pretty sure he was here to hurt her for running away from him. He’s her boss from like, four years ago. Insane,” I reply as we both put on gloves to turn the body over.
“Hmm,” Stepan replies, and his lack of concern for Millie’s safety unsettles me. The fact that he’s completely nonreactive to someone breaking into my home is abnormal, even for someone who puts masculinity and stoicism above all else.
“How do you know she didn’t let him in?” he suggests.
I have to rein myself in to avoid decking him on site. “Probably because she’s constantly telling me about how he stalks her, how he was creepy and abusive when she worked in the clubs. Yeah, we talk about that, by the way. Doesn’t bother me nearly as much as you want it to,” I reply as we begin to roll the body up in a painting tarp.
Stepan scoffs and lifts his end of the body as Mikhail and Slava assist, glancing at each other questioningly.
It doesn’t take long to get the body moved, and I have special equipment in the closet to clean the blood out of the carpet. It’s not the first time that I’ve killed someone here, but I’m not going to let Millie know that. I’m just going to clean this mess up and get back to her.
Later that night, after Erik’s body is chopped up and flung into the ocean, I crawl into bed next to Millie, who seems to have calmed down significantly. She’s not shaking anymore, at least.
“Hey, so I was thinking,” I start, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I don’t think you should be working anymore. It seems like you have people after you from your old life, and I don’t want you in public if it’s going to put you in danger,” I say as she cuddles up to me.
“What?” she replies, picking her head up off my chest and glaring at me.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. What if some other psycho from your club days figures out where you’re working and shoots the place up?” I reply. I realize I’m probably blowing things way out of proportion, but I can’t risk her getting hurt, ever.
“That’s… not how that works. That’s not going to happen,” she replies, growing agitated with me for the suggestion.
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to stop working. I refuse to be a trophy girlfriend,” she responds, sitting up and looking down at me.
“I just don’t feel like it’s safe for you,” I reiterate.
“I was perfectly safe until you insisted on moving me in here, and now I’m suddenly being chased down by people that I haven’t seen in years,” she replies defensively, turning her body to face me.
“If you’re not going to quit, then I’m going to have to get you a better security system,” I insist, sitting up as well to match her stance.
“Well, I’m definitely not going to quit, so I guess you’ll have to,” she insists back, and she turns over onto her side to go to sleep, indicating that the conversation is over.
“I’m just trying to make sure that you’re safe, Millie. I don’t understand what you’re upset with me for,” I continue against my better judgment. I know that Millie always likes to have the last word, but sometimes I just need to push her a little more.
“Viktor, I have worked so fucking hard to own my own business. I can’t close down my shop and come cower in your bedroom for the rest of my life,” she hisses.
“Have you ever had anyone else come after you? People are crazy, Millie. You never know anyone’s true intentions,” I reply, attempting to reach out and touch her. She rejects me immediately, and I lie on my back in frustration. I’ve given up on trying to get through to her.
“I can take care of myself,” she says curtly. “And if I ever feel the need, I’ll get a gun. I’m not going to let you babysit my store. It’s already weird enough that you own the building.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, sitting up a bit and leaning on my forearm.
“I mean that it’s weird that you have that kind of authority in my life now that we’re… like this,” she says, her tough exterior faltering a bit for once.
“What does ‘like this’ mean?” I ask. I know exactly what she means, but I need to hear it from her perspective.
“I live with you. We eat together, sleep together, fuck, whatever. Now that we’re so involved with each other, it’s weird to know that you own the space where my shop is,” she confesses.
“Isn’t that kind of what got us into this? Can’t you just be happy with that?” I ask, and she turns away again, completely silent and emotionless.
I lie flat on my back again, considering her words and trying to pick and choose which comments to take personally. I don’t want to be upset by her, but she seems so unsure of me despite how enmeshed our lives are. It’s a kind of pain that I’ve never experienced with any other girl, and that’s how I know that this is becoming real.
Too real.