Simple words. But the way he says them—the way his body wraps around mine like a shield—makes something dangerous bloom in my chest.
And against my will, against my better judgment, I let myself believe him.
When the car finally slows, I blink awake, the weight of his arm still around me. The city stretches high above us, glass and steel glittering in the afternoon light. Demyan rolls through a set of gates, and I see men in black posted at every corner, rifles slung across their shoulders. The air feels different here—tighter, controlled.
The jeep pulls up to a towering high-rise, sleek and unapologetic. Every window gleams like polished armor. Barbed wires twist along the outer walls, cameras blink red in constant vigilance, and layers of security stand between the street and the entrance.
Niko helps me out of the car, his hand steady at the small of my back. He tilts his chin toward the building. “This is ours. Rusnak property. Later, when I’m ready, the floors will go to our most loyal men—apartments for those who’ve bled for the family.”
I glance up, following his gaze. The building is massive, the kind of place that doesn’t just scrape the sky but commands it.
He turns back to me, his expression unreadable. “Except the top. The penthouse is mine.” His tone makes it sound lesslike a privilege and more like a claim—a fortress in the clouds where no one touches what belongs to him.
Inside, the lobby hums with quiet efficiency—marble floors, steel accents, and more guards stationed like shadows. Every door requires a card. Every hallway has eyes. This place isn’t just secure—it’s impenetrable.
I swallow hard, the weight of it pressing down. “You’ll live here?” I ask softly.
He shakes his head once. “Soon. But for now, it will be home.” His hand slides down, linking our fingers. “And here…you’re untouchable.”
We step into the elevator while Demyan and the guards remain behind, handling the luggage. The doors slide shut with a smooth hiss, and Niko presses a key into a hidden slot before punching in a code. The panel blinks green.
“It’s a beautiful place,” I murmur.
He nods. “Only three people know about it. Myself. Demyan. And Lev. No one else.”
The weight of his words presses against me as the elevator glides upward. It feels like a secret folded deep within another secret, and somehow he’s sharing it with me.
When the doors open, I step into a space that steals my breath. The penthouse is sprawling, all glass and light, the city skyline stretching out like an endless canvas of steel and flame. High ceilings make the room feel endless, while clean lines and dark furnishings give it a kind of effortless authority. It doesn’t just look expensive—it looks high-class.
My feet sink into the thick rug as I move forward, unable to hide the awe in my voice. “It’s…gorgeous.”
Niko sets his jacket over a chair, watching me with a faint curve of his mouth, like he’s amused by my wonder. “I’ll show you around,” he says, his tone softer now.
He leads me down a long hall, past wide windows where the city lights begin to wink on. “Living room, office, bedrooms, gym. And here”—he pushes open a glass door to a terrace that wraps around the penthouse, the skyline spilling out beneath us—“this is the view I come here for.”
The wind rushes past, cool and clean, carrying the scent of rain on concrete. I rest my hands on the railing, staring out at the glittering city. For the first time in a long time, I feel…high above it all.
And safe.
The wind toys with my hair, tugging strands across my lips, as if urging me to move, to feel. I close my eyes and breathe, soaking in the fragile moment.
Then heat slides against my back. Niko. His palm settles on my waist, heavy and immovable, an anchor keeping me from floating away. His breath ghosts over my ear. “You like it,” he murmurs, low enough to be a secret, sinful enough to be a vow.
A shiver runs down my spine. “Like it?” I laugh softly, looking at him over my shoulder. “This is…insane.”
His mouth curves, sharp and knowing. “I knew you would. It’s mine, and now it’s yours, too.”
Something about the way he says mine makes my pulse stumble. Not just the view. Not just the apartment. Me. My eyes lock on his, and the weight of it is unbearable, magnetic, pulling me closer even as my body trembles.
“Yours and mine?” I whisper, voice betraying me with its husky edge.
“Mm.” His gaze dips to my mouth, dark and molten. “Don’t test me,ogonek.”
The dare sparks in the air, hot and reckless. My heart drums so loud I swear he hears it. I turn to face him fully, my hand sliding up the hard wall of his chest, lingering at the sharp line of muscle beneath his shirt. Lower. Lower.
His breath stutters, almost imperceptible, but I feel it. The tension coils between us, suffocating, dangerous. When I sink to my knees on the cold balcony tile, his eyes widen—surprise flashing for a heartbeat before hunger swallows it whole.
His hand fists in my hair immediately, not guiding so much as claiming, a leash and a tether. “Fuck,” he growls when I take him into my mouth, the word jagged, broken. His other hand braces against the railing, knuckles white, as if he’s fighting not to lose control completely.
