Lovenap

chapter 6

The Alfa Romeo hummed smoothly through the Chicago streets as Bianca gripped the wheel a little tighter than necessary. The lingering taste of garlic and herbs from lunch still danced on Dimitri’s tongue, but it was the memory of her flustered smile across the table that kept replaying in his mind. Every mile brought them closer to her father, and he could feel her growing nerves in the way she kept glancing in the rearview mirror and shifting restlessly in her seat.

“You’re going to be fine, Zayka,” he said softly, watching her profile with quiet affection. “Just remember to keep pointing that gun at me. It makes you look very intimidating.”

Bianca shot him a half-hearted glare, but the corner of her mouth twitched with the effort of hiding a smile. “Stop being helpful. You’re supposed to be my prisoner, not my… morale booster.”

Dimitri chuckled and stretched his long legs as much as the passenger seat allowed. The new charcoal pants moved comfortably with him. “I’m a very cooperative hostage. Best in the business, actually. Five stars. Would recommend.”

She took a right turn that seemed a little too sharp, muttering something about a “shortcut” to avoid traffic near the casino. The neighborhood gradually shifted around them — from the cozy, familiar Italian district with its checkered awnings and garlic-scented air to a more neutral, up-and-coming area. Sleek new cafés lined the streets, modern storefronts gleamed under fresh paint, and subtle Eastern European influences appeared: signs in Cyrillic lettering, the rich scent of strong coffee and fresh pastries wafting from open doors, and the low murmur of Russian conversation drifting from a corner group.

Dimitri’s relaxed posture stiffened slightly. He knew this area well. It wasn’t fully Volkov territory, but it was close enough that his people often passed through.

“Bianca…” he started, a note of warning in his voice.

Before he could finish his thought, Bianca suddenly slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the pavement, and Dimitri braced himself roughly against the dashboard, his hand shooting out instinctively. The car jerked to a halt inches away from three large men standing in the middle of the street.

One in particular caught Dimitri’s eye immediately — the familiar face of his right-hand man, Nikolai, frozen mid-step with a coffee cup in hand. Two other Russian associates flanked him, both looking equally stunned.

For a split second, everything was silent except for the low idle of the engine.

Then one of the other men — a burly guy with a thick neck and a short fuse — aggressively slammed his hands on the hood of the Alfa Romeo. The sharp thud echoed through the car as he unleashed a string of heated Russian curses, his nostrils flaring in anger.

Bianca’s expression went from shock to pure Italian fury in the blink of an eye. She threw her door open and marched around the front of the car, roughly jabbing her finger into the chest of the man who had hit her hood.

“What the f**k do you think you’re doing, asshole?!”

Before the man could respond, Nikolai put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Please ignore this buffoon. We were just passing through.”

The man roughly brushed Nikolai’s hand off, keeping his eyes locked on a seething Bianca. He looked her up and down, lust clouding his gaze. “I’ll let your disrespect slide if you’re willing to get on your knees and show me what that filthy mouth can do.”

Dimitri was already stepping out of the car, ready to have a few choice words with his comrades, when Bianca moved faster than he expected. She yanked her handgun from her jacket and pointed it straight at the man, her hands trembling but her voice fierce.

“How about you get on your knees and beg instead?”

Nikolai glanced over at Dimitri, his eyes clearly asking What the hell is the next move here?

Dimitri cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. The man Bianca was pointing the gun at was the first to react. “Boss? Is that you? What the f**k are you doing with the Italian mob’s princess?”

Dimitri scowled. “None of your damn business!”

Bianca looked over at him, surprised. “Boss?”

Before Dimitri could answer, a shot rang through the air. The sharp c***k made everyone’s ears ring. Nikolai yelled a string of Russian curses while tightly clutching his shoulder. Crimson blood seeped between his fingers. “You shot me! You f*****g shot me!”

Dimitri looked over at a trembling Bianca. She dropped the gun with a clatter and covered her shaking hands over her face. “I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry!”

Dimitri stared at her for a beat, torn between concern and disbelief. “I can’t believe you shot him and not the fucker that was insulting you…” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Wait… did you seriously apologize for shooting Nikolai?”

Nikolai grew quiet for a second, then exploded again. “Seriously!? That’s what you’re worried about!? I got f*****g shot, asshole!”

Dimitri dramatically rolled his eyes, fighting a smile despite the chaos. “Don’t be such a drama queen. You’re fine… it’s a flesh wound. You’ve had worse.”

After a few more minutes of Bianca internally melting down and Nikolai loudly complaining as blood oozed from his arm, Dimitri finally “rolled over” in defeat. With an exaggerated sigh, he threw his hands up. “Fine. Get in the car… we’ll get you patched up.”

Nikolai didn’t wait for him to change his mind. He quickly jumped into the back seat, still clutching his shoulder. Dimitri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned to the other two men. “You two find your own way back to whatever f*****g hole you crawled out of!” He pointed sharply at the one who had started the scene. “And you — I’ll deal with you later, motherfucker.”

Dimitri climbed back into the passenger seat and threw Bianca an apologetic look. “Know anybody who can stitch this one up without asking too many questions?”