“When I take you,” he says slowly, voice low and deliberate, “and Iwilltake you, Stella… it won’t be in the back seat of some car.” I swallow dryly, hating the way my heartbeat just kicked up a notch. “Wrap your arms around my neck,milaya.” My pulse stutters as I follow his command. “It’s time we had a proper dance,” he murmurs, one hand sliding around to rest at the small of my back while the other tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “And learn a few things about one another.”
“You first,” I order, pretending his words didn’t affect me.
Kirill’s lips tilt in a slow, knowing smile. “You just learned my greatest virtue tonight,milaya. I’m a man of patience. Because some things…are worth the wait.” I bite my inner cheek, hating that one moronic joke dropped me straight into the deep end. “Your turn.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
He brushes his thumb over my chin, his eyes flicking to my lips before finding mine again.
“Why don’t you like being called Princess?”
I shift back instinctively, since the question hits a raw nerve, but his hand tightens just enough at my back to keep me from slipping away.
“Ask me something else.”
“No, Stella. Answer the question,” he says, his voice firm.
“Fine, whatever. I don’t like it because it makes me feel weak. There. Are you happy?”
“No,” he whispers softly. “Anything that would dare to take your power away doesn’t make me happy. But it’s just a word, Stella. A small, insignificant word.”
“Well, that small, insignificant word makes me feel even smaller and more insignificant. But you wouldn’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
I meet his dark eyes and see nothing but warmth and a quiet, earnest desire to understand me. It’s so disarming that it coaxes me to do something I never thought I would—reveal a weakness to the last man who should know I have any.
“In my world,” I begin, albeit reluctantly, “Princess doesn’t mean tiaras and beautiful dresses. Being aprincipessais the same as having a leash around your neck. A gilded cage designed to keep you exactly where they want you. To stop you from growing, from becoming anything more. Window dressing at best. Owned at worst. That will never be me. That’s not the kind of woman I want to be.”
“And what kind of woman is that?”
“Someone fearless,” I exhale. “Someone worthy of respect. Someone who won’t be pushed aside just because of her gender. A woman who commands both fear and loyalty in equal measure.”
Kirill’s obsidian eyes hood at my statement, and my heart begins to race as his gaze drifts back to my lips.
“From where I’m standing, you’ve already succeeded.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says, steady and sure.
My mouth goes dry under the weight of his stare, and yet I’m too much of a coward to confront it. Which only proves my point—I’m not ready. Not yet. But one day, I will be. All I need is my shot, and when I get it, I’ll finally prove my worth. To everyone. Including myself.
“Very well,” Kirill says, loosening his grip on me by perching his hands on my waist. “Tell me what this fearless woman wants out of life. I’m curious.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I frown. “I want to be inducted into the Outfit.”
If I expected a laugh or a snide remark, I clearly miscalculated. Kirill takes my ambition at face value, judging by his next question, “And what does your father think about that?”
“What do you think?” I snort. “He’s less than thrilled about it. But he’s not the only one I have to win over. It’s my mother I have to convince.”
“I have to admit that surprises me. After meeting your mother, I would’ve assumed she’d fight for her daughter’s happiness.”
Kirill’s words slam into me, something tight and ugly twisting beneath my ribs.
“Both things can be true at once,” I mutter. “My momdoeswant me to be happy. That’s all she’s ever wanted for any of us. But she wants us to be safe too.”
“Ah, I see. And your happiness doesn’t quite align with her need to protect you.”
