“Control is how I keep you breathing,” he says, softer but no less final. “No subway. No solo elevators. No errands.”
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. He’s right. The whole city is unsafe for me now. If I’d been alone in Central Park… God, I don’t even want to think about it.
Dmitri clears his throat, drawing my attention. “Boss is right. You are a target. And the penthouse is the safest place in the city for you. It’s like a damn bunker.”
“I don’t want to live in a bunker,” I mutter.
Vlad’s jaw flexes. “I know what I’m asking. I also know what you saw tonight.” His gaze drops to my stomach. “One mistake, one bit of bad luck, and I lose both of you.”
Both of us. It’s no longer just me I have to think about.
The fire cracks, the sound making me jump. I think about the four bodies on white drifts, about the clean, efficient way he erased them in less than thirty minutes. I think about Maxim on ballroom marble, my parent’s names in a headline under the wordaccident. I think about the baby inside me who didn’t ask for any of this.
“I hate this,” I whisper.
“I know.” He doesn’t reach for me. He just waits.
I look at Dmitri, already planning in his head.
“Fine. I’ll stay put. For now.”
Vlad nods once. “Nika will divert your calendar. Dmitri will rotate a four-man team. You don’t open the door to anyone but me.”
I nod because there’s nothing else to do. The decision settles over my shoulders, heavy as a winter coat.
Outside, the storm howls. Inside, the fire throws gold on Vlad’s face, and for a second I see two men within one—the king built for war and the man I love.
CHAPTER 29
TERESA
The snow comes down in thick, slow-moving drifts outside the penthouse glass walls. I curl deeper into the armchair, my knees pulled up, both hands wrapped around a glass of water. It’s just past ten, but it feels later somehow, time stretched taut by the sound of him upstairs.
I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I can hear his voice, low at first then spiking into a roar that carries down the staircase. This isn’t like him. I’ve seen him order violence without raising his tone. That calm, cool, quiet menace is what makes him so dangerous.
But tonight, something’s different. His raised voice unsettles me in a way I can’t quite name.
I take a sip of water, swallowing hard against the urge to fetch a bottle of wine from the cabinet. Just a small glass to take the edge off. But I can’t. My world has changed for good and every decision has to be made with someone else in mind now.
That must be how Vlad feels too.
A muffled thump comes from upstairs—a fist slammed against a desk?—then silence. It’s so abrupt it makes me jump. No footsteps, just a strange, suspended quiet, as if the whole penthouse is holding its breath.
I glance toward the staircase, my pulse quickening. I hate not knowing. I hate the gap between whatever’s happening up there and whatever I’m about to find out. The clock on the mantel ticks, loud in the stillness, marking off each second like a countdown to something I’m not ready for.
Slow footfalls on the stairs interrupts the ticking clock. Vlad comes into view first, Dmitri just behind him, then three other men I’ve seen before. All of them in tailored suits, all wearing the silver Angeloff tie. They move as a unit, forming a loose wall as they cross the living room toward me.
I set my glass down on the side table, fingers tightening in my lap. Whatever Vlad’s about to say, I can feel in my bones it’s not going to be good.
Vlad looks furious, though not the cold, ruthless kind of anger I’ve seen before. This is red hot and blazing. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, then shuts it again.
He nods to Dmitri and heads toward the bar. The crystal clinks softly. He’s exhibiting that coiled stillness he wears when he’s one decision away from violence.
Dmitri steps forward, professional and calm. “We still don’t have a clean line on who gave the order,” he says. “But we might as well be honest. We’re pretty goddamn sure it was Volkov.”
Vlad lifts his glass, speaking one word. “War.” He turns to face us. “If he’s bold enough to try a full-on assassination in the middle of Central Park, then he’s ready for one hell of a battle.People will die.” His eyes hold mine. “There is no limit to the number of people I will eliminate to keep you safe.”
The men behind him don’t blink. Neither do I. My ears ring and I picture the four bodies in the snow again, red blooming out.
