Mikhail entered his car after taking one last glance at Luxury's vehicle that just sped off.
He had the urge to follow her but shook it off and headed to meet his father—wondering why he would need him by this time.
The engine roared to life as Mikhail pulled out of the Frat House gates as the thought of Luxury slipped into his mind.
His phone buzzed with messages but he knew it would be from the class group chat.
He took his phone and checked it anyway, while his other hand stayed on the steering.
Photos of the party filled the chat, but only one caught his eye— Luxury's laughter in the game that had happened earlier but no matter how it looked like a laughter, the more it felt fake to Mikhail.
The expression on Luxury's face didn't match her eyes— it was as if she was trying to hide a pain or an emotion.
He looked up, then back down, zooming into her face — his thumb trembling slightly.
His jaw clenched. Somewhere in his chest tightened like it was an unfamiliar pull like there was something in Luxury's laughter and expression—not amusement, not happiness or fear.
It seemed like distance and calculation.
"Who the hell are you?" he whispered and let out a low exhale tossing his phone onto the seat beside him.
He focused on the road running his long fingers into his hair before placing it on the steering wheel with little taps.
He wondered why thoughts of her casually filled his mind and he hated not knowing things.
But she's... She's like a dangerous riddle.
**Orlov's Estate**
Mikhail drove in, the gates closing automatically behind him. He drove a few kilometers before entering the main mansion, the guards bowing in respect as he entered.
The mansion looked darkly magnificent as always—but busier, tense, and alive.
Mikhail creased his brow immediately he came down from his car.
He knew something was happening, he could feel it.
The Orlov Estate was more than a mansion—it was built in walls. Every man stationed here knew his place in the hierarchy.
His father, Andrei Orlov —the Pakhan sat at the top — the absolute head and the man who commanded everything and everyone. Beneath him were the Sovetnik—the Pakhan's right hand man, the Brigadiers who controlled the territory and managed money flow, then the Soldati—trained killers sworn to loyalty by blood oath.
Mikhail had grown up around this structure like it was scripture.
Discipline.
Silence.
Power.
He took casual strides into the mansion, the members greeting and bowing in respect as he walked.
He didn't even answer them.
He walked to where his father—the Pakhan— would be and saw him making a serious phone call.
The smell of cigarette filled the air.
"I will get back to you later!" Pakhan said immediately he saw Mikhail and hung up.
"Good evening, Father!" he greeted casually, the soft clack of his shoes echoed as he went to sit on one of the chairs.
It looked more like a study room instead, because bookshelves stood at all corners of the room. Some filled with files, books, magazines and some other things.
"You've heard? Haven't you? About the dumb file." Pakhan asked, his sharp haze assessing his son. The coldness and huskiness of his voice was no different from that of Mikhail's own.
Like father-like-son.
"It's missing! " he said it more like a guess work, leaning lazily on the chair.
"Yes!" The Pakhan replied dryly putting his cigarette in the ash tray.
"Mikhail, find out everything you need to know about this missing file and get back to me!" The Pakhan voice gave out a firm tone of authority as he leaned in.
"Yes Father"
The Pakhan leaned back—eyes squinted. "I don't care who you have to kill or break, just get it to me before someone does."
Mikhail just pressed his lips together and gulped down nothing. "Understood."
"Good!"
The words still hung in the air after the 'long' conversation already ended. There was no warmth in the room, only smoke and silence pretending to be peace.
Mikhail felt irritated and hated how natural it felt to be bossed around. Still the boy inside listened and obeyed.
He stood, his chair scraping against the polished tiles as he took one last glance at his Father and turned to leave without saying goodbye.
The Pakhan didn't even give a damn.
Outside, the Estate was alive with motion—guards were moving, engines rumbled, shadows crossed each other.
Mikhail slid his hands into his pockets while his mind circled with the same thought.
Luxury!
"His laugh in that picture was not a real one."
He furrowed his eyebrows as if he was thinking.
"Why do I fucking care?" he thought and let out a low sigh shaking the thoughts of Luxury before stepping into the cold night.
He didn't know what should be in his mind — the thoughts of the Dumb File or the 'boy' named Luxury.
As the gates of the Orlov Estate shut behind his car, another car cut through the night — headed in the opposite direction.
*****
Meanwhile, Luxury was still on the road driving to the address Nik sent to her.
"No. 14, Grevsky lane, upper district!" she read it again for the umpteenth time as she drove through the cold wind.
She finally reached and parked her car beside the fence of the house. She loosened the bandage around her chest, enough to make breathing easier.
She came down and walked thought the gate to the main building.
There was a security keypad lock and she punched in the codes Nik had sent earlier.
Her thoughts were filled with the reaction of Nik. She couldn't predict them.
Immediately Luxury opened the door, she bumped into him as she looked at his face— the expression on his face confirmed it.
He stood at the door like he had been waiting for her. His expression on his face was calm but strained.
"Luxury." he called quietly. "Are you okay?"
She only nodded but didn't answer. Just brushed past him into the apartment, her perfume lingering in the air.
Nik jammed the door and walked further into the living room staring at Luxury who looked around the house with a questionable look.
As if reading her mind, he answered. "I have been in Russia before you did, that's when I bought the house."
Luxury just mouthed an 'oh'.
"You were with them, weren't you? At the frat house."
"Where else would I be?" she shot back, her tone flat but her hands restless. "Oh! So you've started watching me, huh?" she snarled.
Nik just ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "That's not the point Zhenya. You shouldn't get involved with them... and you know it. You are here to hide and finish off whatever you need to finish."
She turned slowly to face him, crossing her arms. "Don't act like you care now. You knew what I was getting into long before tonight."
"I do care Zhenya!" Nik snapped. His voice cracked just slightly, the kind of break that happens when anger is holding something deeper inside. "You think I'd be standing here waiting if I didn't?" his jaw clenched as he asked.
Luxury's gaze softened for half a second before she looked away. "You're wasting your time."
She fiddled with her fingers.
"No!" he said, stepping closer. "You are!"
She froze.
"The Mafia has known that the File is missing and anything will be done to get it back! What will be your action to this?" he asked trying to be calm.
"It is for me to decide that, not you Idiot!"
Nik sighed frustratingly but didn't mind. "You know what? You keep pretending you're untouchable—smiling when you're dying inside, flirting your way through danger like it's a performance..." he paused and breathed out calmly. "but I see you, Zhenya. And one day, the Russian Mafia is going to see you too, especially the Mikhail whatever. Then it's over."
Her throat tightened at the sound of that name, but she hid it behind a smirk. "Oh, wow! Didn't know you were keeping tabs on him and don't fucking call me Zhenya, I am now identified as a boy known as Luxury!"
"I will keep calling you that and I'm fucking keeping tabs on you, not him!" Nik's voice was low. "Because you're in something deeper than you think."
Silence settled between them.
It was not the type of silence that felt awkward but the kind that needed both parties to digest whatever emotions they were feeling.
Only the ticking clock on the wall was heard— not once, twice or thrice but like it was waiting for someone to break it.
Luxury stepped back, her voice was calm but her eyes stayed cold "Maybe that's the point." she said.
And before Nik could say anything else, she grabbed her jacket and walked out.
The door shut behind her— soft but final.