MARRIED TO THE RUSSIAN DEVIL

I adjusted the simple dress one more time. It was floral, in a bright red shade that somehow managed to put a little color on me. I didn’t need a mirror to know the deep dark circles under my eyes were still there—souvenirs from the sleepless nights spent watching the construction machines outside. I slipped on my half-worn ballet flats. They were comfortable, the kind that made me feel like I was walking barefoot—which I’d probably be doing soon enough if I didn’t buy new shoes.

I was about to do something risky, so I needed to look calm even though my insides were a complete mess.

I glanced out the window. The construction workers were still there, standing around like vultures waiting for the kill. A cold shiver ran through me just thinking about them tearing my house down. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to the place where I grew up. Not to the last piece of my parents I still had left—the house they’d worked so hard to build.

I walked over to the dresser, grabbed my phone, and dialed Tyler’s number. It took a few rings before he finally answered.

“Morning, babe,” he said in that velvet voice of his, trying (and failing) to sound like some old Hollywood actor. It made me laugh anyway. My best friend had a talent for making even the worst situations feel a little lighter.

“You waiting for me on the next street?” I asked, forcing a calm smile even though my heart was racing so hard it felt like it might give me away.

“Yeah, I am… well, we are. I’m sorry, Chloe, but Derek begged me to let him come. I promise he won’t get in the way. We’re getting your house back from that old bastard who stole it—even if I have to break every bone in his body,” he said, completely calm, like he hadn’t just casually threatened a man and was instead inviting me to dinner.

“YOU WHAT?!” Maybe I was overreacting, but this wasn’t simple. Derek and I had dated for a few months, but we wanted different things. The breakup had been messy, and then my parents died on top of it, making everything a thousand times worse. To make my life even more complicated, the universe (or the devil himself) decided he should be Tyler’s cousin. He was always finding ways to run into me, and I was always running the other way like the devil running from holy water.

“Let’s just say I didn’t really have a choice.”

After a quick goodbye, I hung up, completely lost and with no idea what to do next.

Derek wasn’t a bad guy. He just didn’t handle things well. I could still remember every detail of him perfectly—the messy black hair that gave him that rebellious look, the leather jacket he wore rain or shine, and those dark eyes that set him apart in any crowd. Turbulent. Stormy. Even in that neutral color.

I didn’t want to see him. Keeping my distance was the smartest move, because looking at him felt like looking straight into the past—and that was the last place I wanted to go.

I shoved him out of my thoughts. I was already running late. I walked carefully to the front door, closed it quietly even though my mind was screaming, and stepped outside.

The construction workers stared at me with open contempt—probably thinking I was just making their job harder and that none of this would change a thing. If Ares had agreed to talk, they could take it up with him. I stared right back with the same intensity. I might’ve been falling apart, but I wasn’t about to lower my head.

I walked down the street, weaving around NYU students hunting for coffee and a place to sit and talk—classic Greenwich Village. I kept going until I reached a narrow alley between two old buildings that led to the small park where I’d told Tyler to meet me.

I wasn’t some damsel who needed saving, but he’d insisted so hard that saying no had been impossible.

My smile faded the second I saw them leaning against the ’67 Impala that looked like it had been painted that same morning. Derek was smoking a cigarette with that cocky half-smile on his face. His serious eyes seemed to see straight through every bit of desperation I was trying to hide. All I wanted was to disappear. Tyler was on his phone, looking annoyed—clearly losing some game.

They were cousins, but they could’ve easily passed for brothers.

There weren’t many differences. My best friend was a few inches taller and a little more muscular, with a small scar above his eyebrow that most women found sexy, piercing emerald-green eyes, and a perfectly kept beard that only made him more attractive—to women, at least. Not that he was interested in them.

The second the cigarette smoke hit my nose, I started coughing uncontrollably. I shot Derek a pointed look. He rolled his eyes, took one last drag, flicked the cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under his shoe until the ember died. I thanked him silently. At least he didn’t hate me enough to try and choke me to death with that thing… or maybe he was just saving a more painful method for later. You never know.

“Can we go?” I asked once the coughing stopped and I was close enough.

“Sure, babe,” Ty answered, sliding into the driver’s seat while whistling like he didn’t have a care in the world. There wasn’t a calmer person alive.

I took the passenger seat, forcing Derek into the back between boxes, random shirts, and whatever else my friend had thrown back there. He did not look happy about it.

“Guess I didn’t need to put out the cigarette after all, Chloe. You seem just fine now.”

“Really?” I shot back, tapping my nails against the seat in time with the music. He had to be kidding.

“‘Do I Wanna Know?’” Derek started singing under his breath. I wanted to send him straight to several very entertaining places—starting with hell—but I held back and just grabbed his cousin’s hand instead.

That shut the idiot in the back seat up for a few minutes. Maybe he was confused, or maybe something else. I didn’t hate him, but his silence was pure gold.

Not many people knew Tyler was gay. It wasn’t that he tried to hide it—he just never bothered announcing it. He thought it was more fun letting people figure it out on their own, and he never made it easy, always giving vague answers that left you with nothing solid. When I finally confronted him about it—two years after we met—he just laughed and said nothing. That’s when I understood.

Ty was like an endangered species: the best and worst person you could ever know.

We stopped at a red light near Madison Square Park.

“What do you think this Ares guy is like?” I asked. I barely knew anything about him, though I could’ve sworn I’d heard his name on TV once. All I really had was the address of his martial arts gym on Fifth Avenue, right before Central Park.

“Probably some old Asian guy, like that karate movie we watched once,” Tyler said distractedly, staring out the window. An elegant redhead in a suit was walking with a woman whose hair was black as oil. Most people would’ve assumed he was looking at the brunette. I knew better—his eyes were locked on the guy with the fire-colored hair.

“He’s delicious, right? Shame she’s probably only with that rich guy for the money. He doesn’t look like he could last five minutes in bed, but if I got my hands on him…” Derek said with a grin, biting his lower lip. Honestly, a quiet man is a poet until he opens his mouth.

“Are you serious right now?” I twisted in my seat, already uncomfortable just hearing how gross that comment was.

“Jealous, Novaes?” His smile stretched even wider. I rolled my eyes and turned away. He had to be joking.

“That’s disrespectful—and not just to her. Women aren’t objects. Learn some manners.”

I was two seconds from committing homicide if he opened his mouth again.

“Okay, feminist.”

Definitely an idiot.

I faced forward again. By some divine miracle—maybe God was taking pity on me—the light turned green and we continued through the busy streets of Manhattan. Almost half an hour later, we pulled up in front of Chaos Martial Arts Academy.

The glass façade blended with the buildings around it—they all looked the same to me. A few Japanese cherry blossom trees framed the entrance, giving the massive place a slightly warmer feel.

He was definitely some old karate guy.

I stepped into the wide reception area, also decorated in an Asian style. A receptionist with purple-dyed hair was talking on the phone. The second she saw us, she hung up.

“How can I help you?” she asked, looking only at Tyler. He rolled his eyes and glanced at me like he was silently begging for rescue.

“We’d like to speak with Mr. Bellator.”

“One moment.”

I was either being paranoid or this woman already hated me. I didn’t believe much in love at first sight, but hate at first sight seemed to follow me around daily.

After a quick phone call, she only authorized my entry. I thought it was strange, but I agreed—probably some security measure.

I blew Ty a kiss and followed the receptionist, who looked thoroughly disappointed to be stuck with me. We stepped into a glass elevator that took us to the top floor. I hummed the whole way up, nervous energy needing somewhere to go.

“Can you stop that? It’s annoying,” she snapped, running a hand through her purple hair and shooting me a death glare.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. My ears go deaf around bad manners.” I winked at her.

Chloe 1. Purple Girl 0.

I didn’t get to hear her reply. The elevator doors opened onto a floor that was entirely reserved for the old karate guy. The brightly lit office felt like it didn’t even belong in New York—floor-to-ceiling windows showing a clear blue sky, a black marble desk in the center, trophies and medals in the corner, plus competition photos. The strangest part was that the only smell in the air was an exotic cologne I didn’t even need to ask about. It was strangely comforting in its own way.

Ares was sitting with his back to me in a leather chair that completely swallowed his body.

“Leave, Melody,” he said. His voice was deep and masculine—nothing like what I’d imagined.

“Of course, Mr. Bellator.”

And just like that, she left me alone in the wolf’s den. Make that wolf.

I stayed standing. I wasn’t comfortable with any of this. The man who had stolen my house was right there, and I had no idea how to act. I sighed and started pacing.

“Don’t even have the courage to look me in the eyes? Fine, then you—”

“If you came here to insult me, you can turn around and leave the way you came.” He finally turned, and my jaw nearly hit the floor. I barely registered the threat. I just stared, frozen.

Ares was not old. And he definitely did not look like he practiced karate.

Even under the expensive suit, you could see the strong arms and broad shoulders. His jaw was hard and masculine—I could’ve sworn some Renaissance sculptor had carved it. The light stubble only made him more attractive. His eyes were a stormy blue that seemed to glow, with thin red streaks in the irises like tiny lightning bolts. His light hair fell past his shoulders, currently tied up in a kind of samurai bun. I took in the rest of his face—full lips that looked like they’d been drawn, pale skin that gave him a foreign edge.

He was beautiful. And I already knew he was going to be hell on earth.

“Your name is Ares? You look more like Apollo.” The words were out before I could stop them. I clamped both hands over my mouth, trying to hide the heat flooding my face.

“Let’s just say my father has a sense of humor.” He smirked and gestured to the chair across from him. God, he was too beautiful to be human.

I cleared my throat and sat. I had important things to deal with here.

“You, uh… stole my house.” What the hell was I doing?

“It’s been mine for almost a year,” he said, closing his hands into fists and showing calloused knuckles. He squeezed them hard, like he was holding back anger, and that genuinely scared me.

“A year? That’s impossible… It’s always been mine.” I stressed the words. He couldn’t just take it that blatantly.

“I don’t think you understand the situation, Miss Novaes.” He stood and planted his closed fists on the desk, leaning in until our faces were close and our breath was fighting in the space between us. “The house is mine. It will be mine until the day I die. And if you don’t get out of it, I might just have to demolish you along with it.”

“Are you threatening me?” If he thought he could intimidate me with that, he was completely wrong.

“Take it however you want. Just know the process to remove you is already underway.”

I stood and stared him down, narrowing my eyes and raising an eyebrow. He seemed like every other rich guy who thought he was above the law—someone who could do whatever he wanted without consequences.

“I thought we could come to an agreement, but I see I was wrong. I’ll be speaking to a lawyer. See you in court, Mr. Bellator.”

“Looks like my wife knows how to be strong. Alexander Novaes didn’t do such a bad job after all,” he said, sitting back down once he realized his empty threats weren’t working.

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. Was this supposed to be a joke?

Then reality hit me.

He was completely serious.

God… should I be calling the guys from Criminal Minds?