I reach out, tracing my hand along her chin. Her skin is warm and soft. The opposite of the violence that erupted moments ago. I tilt her face up to mine.
"You're shaking."
"I—I never expected—" Her voice catches. She can't finish the sentence.
"Boris disrespected you. That means he disrespected me. Simple Bratva politics."
"I don't want that." The words tumble out fast. "I don't want you to hurt anyone because of me?—"
I almost laugh. “Really? Is that why you ‘accidentally’ dumped coffee on him?”
“That was an accident!”
"Cut the shit, Lila." I step closer, backing her against the table. She has nowhere to run. "You know I hurt people, and you like it. That's why you didn't escape last night."
"The door was closed. I couldn't have."
"Was it now?"
Her eyes widen, realization dawning across her face.
"The door wasn’t locked," I say softly, tracing my hand down her neck. Her pulse jumps under my fingertips. "Anyone could've snuck out at night. Sergei was out cold by three. Elevator code never changed. They could’ve walked right out." My thumb finds her pulse point. It's racing. "Unless they never tried to open the door." I lean in until my breath ghosts her ear. “You didn’t even test the door, Lila.”
She swallows and doesn't deny it. She can't deny it.
“But still,” I say quietly, “you wanted to come out. Now. Knowing I had men here who don’t like you. Who’d judge you. Who think you don’t belong.” I lower my voice. “You don’t have to prove anything, Lila.”
“No.” She shakes her head, finding her voice—barely. “You’re right. I wanted to. I wantedyouto see me. I wanted tobe... perfect, maybe. For you.” Her eyes glisten, raw. “What they said—it’s true. I can’t speak Russian. I don’t fit here. I can’t even pour coffee without making a mess. I don’t know how to be the Pakhan’s woman.”
“Stop.”
She freezes and looks at me, searching for signs of mercy.
I hold her gaze to make sure she feels every word. “You think that’s what I want? The masks? The polished smiles? The rehearsed charm?” My hands find her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks. “I don’t want their polished, plastic dolls, Lila.” I tighten my grip. “I wantyou.Messy, impulsive, real. So fucking flawed and human it hurts.”
The words keep coming. I can't stop them. Don't want to stop them.
"You're everything I never had in my life. Someone who doesn't need to hide behind a facade. Someone who argues with me. Who floods bathrooms to escape. Who serves coffee badly and deep down doesn't feel sorry for being herself." My voice drops. "You're what I've been dreaming about."
She stares at me, wide-eyed with a slightly parted mouth. Silent. Stunned.
“I want you to say it too, Lila.”
Silence. My hands freeze on her face. I wait. Every heartbeat is a question. For once in my life, I’m afraid. Truly fucking afraid.
Then she kisses me.
Hard. Desperate. Her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer, eliminating any space between us. Suddenly, we're not talking anymore. We're reduced to breath and heat.
"God, yes," she gasps against my mouth between kisses. "You're everything I ever wanted, too."
The words make a knot in my chest unravel.
Another kiss, this one sharper, longer. Our bodies presstogether—her softness against my rigidity, her yielding to my insistence.
“Every man I’ve dated?” she says, pulling back slightly, lips grazing mine as she speaks. “Boring. Safe. Predictable. Fucking gray. And they were my only choices.”
She laughs suddenly, a breathy, almost hysterical sound.
