Page 36 of His Demands

Between his tone and the look in his eyes, I believe him. Boris isn't bluffing, and the threat is real. My mind races, trying to find a way out, but I know I'm trapped. The other man, named Sergei, if memory serves, is silent but equally menacing. He slides into the driver's seat of my car, starting the engine with an ominous purr.

Boris ushers me into the backseat, his hand firm on my arm. The door closes with a finality that seals my fate. I'm in the car, Boris beside me, his presence a heavy weight that stifles any hope of escape.

The car ride is a tense, silent journey. Boris watches me closely, his gaze unrelenting. I sit as far away from him as the space allows, every nerve on edge, every sense heightened. I don't know what awaits me at Ivan's office, but I know one thing for sure—I have to warn him somehow.

The streets pass in a blur, each turn taking me further away from safety and deeper into uncertainty. My thoughts are with Ivan, our unborn child, and the life we've started to build.

A life that's now under threat by this man and whatever dark past he represents.

Chapter 23

Ivan

Jonathan Kline, the newest addition to my team, is proving to be an interesting character. He's sharp, a quick study that's impressive. There's a certain ambition in his eyes, a gleam that speaks of aspirations beyond being an assistant.

It's a trait I recognize and respect, reminding me of myself in my earlier days. I plan to keep a close watch on him; talent like his could be invaluable but being overly ambitious can lead to recklessness.

As I step into my office, I immediately notice Julie’s absence. She had mentioned something about an extended lunch, but the specifics were lost in the rush of the day's activities. It's unusual for her to be away this long, and a part of me is curious about what she's up to.

Over the past weeks, since our return from Bora Bora, I've found myself increasingly attuned to her comings and goings, a development that would have surprised me at one point but now comes naturally.

My thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on the door, and Jonathan steps in. "Mr. Stepanov, I've organized the files for the Winford project as you requested. Is there anything else you need?"

"Good work, Jonathan," I say, glancing over the neatly arranged files. "Keep an eye on that account; it's a key project for us. I want regular updates."

"Understood, sir," Jonathan replies, his eagerness evident. "I won't let you down."

As he leaves I lean back in my chair, my mind drifting back to Julie. Her extended lunch is out of character, and an inexplicable sense of unease begins to gnaw at me. I've become accustomed to her presence, her energy. I am unsettled when she is not around.

I decide to give her a call to check-in and make sure she’s alright. The phone rings and I wait, expecting her cheerful voice to greet me. But it goes to voicemail, and I'm left with a lingering sense of disquiet.

Something doesn't feel right. It's a feeling I can't shake, a sense that something is amiss. I've learned to trust my instincts, they've kept me alive and successful in a world where a moment's hesitation can mean disaster.

I stand up, my decision made. I'm going to find my wife, to make sure she's not in trouble. The thought of her in any kind of distress is unacceptable, a risk I'm not willing to take.

The moment the office door swings open without a knock, I expect to see Julie, her usual spontaneous entrance accompanied by a bright smile. But what greets me instead causes the blood in my veins to turn to ice. Boris stands there, Julie with him, his hand gripping her arm with a possessiveness that sends a surge of fury through me. Sergei looms behind him, an ever-menacing presence.

Julie's expression is a mix of fear and defiance, a clear indication that she's been coerced into this situation. The sight of her in distress, at the mercy of these men, ignites a protective rage within me, a primal urge to shield her from harm.

Before I can react, Jonathan bursts into the room, his face etched with concern. "Mr. Stepanov, do you need me to call security?" he asks, his eyes darting between me and the unwelcome intruders.

Boris responds before I can. "There is no need for that, young man. We're just here for a friendly chat with Mr. Stepanov."

The casualness of his tone, the audacity to invade my space and threaten my wife, fuels my anger. I give Jonathan a nod, a silent signal to leave but stay alert. Jonathan hesitates for a split second, his gaze shifting from me to Julie, then back to the intruders. With a final wary look, he steps out of the room, but his departure is reluctant, a clear indication that he's ready to act if needed.

As soon as the door closes, the room becomes a charged arena, the tension stifling. Boris’ smirk is infuriating, but it's Julie's well-being that's my primary concern. I take a step forward, my posture controlled yet imposing, my eyes fixed on Boris.

"Get your fucking hands off of my wife,” I growl, my voice cold and steady despite the turmoil inside me.

Julie remains silent, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. There's a soundless plea in her gaze, one of fear but also trust. She knows I won't let anything happen to her, and that unspoken understanding solidifies my resolve.

Boris’ eyes flicker with amusement, enjoying the control he believes he has. "We'll get to that, Ivan. But first, let's make sure we understand each other. Your lovely wife here," he tightens his grip on Julie’s arm, "is a reminder of what's at stake."

Julie, with a sudden burst of defiance, wrenches her arm from Boris’ grip and rushes to my side. Her proximity brings a measure of relief, yet the fear in her eyes, underlined by a burning anger, is a stark reminder of the danger we're in. A sick feeling overcomes me as I realize how vulnerable we are.

"Are you alright?" I ask, my voice laced with concern as I scan her for any signs of harm. She nods, her eyes turbulent, a storm of emotions swirling within them. The anger seems to outweigh her fear, and it's directed as much at me as it is at Boris.

"What the hell is going on, Ivan?" Julie demands, stepping back from me. The distance she puts between us stings more than I care to admit, a physical manifestation of the growing rift this situation has caused.

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