I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that promise more than I'd wanted anything in three years.
His hand stayed on my knee. Warm. Solid. Grounding.
I didn't move.
The exhaustion hit all at once. My shoulders sagged. My spine curved. The stress overwhelmed me.
Nikolai noticed. Of course he noticed. Those grey eyes missed nothing.
He checked his watch—expensive, simple, probably cost more than my entire storage unit contents. "It's past one. You worked through lunch."
I had. Hadn't even noticed the time passing. Too absorbed in the documents, in the growing horror of understanding how thoroughly I'd been hunted.
"I should keep working," I said. My voice came out tired. Flat. "There's more to find. Patterns I haven't identified yet."
"No." Simple. Final. Not a suggestion.
I looked at him. His expression was calm but firm. The Pakhan coming through the domestic exterior.
"You're done for today," he continued. "You've processed two and a half boxes in four hours. Found the primary pattern. Did excellent work. Now you rest."
"I can—"
"Sophie." His hand squeezed my knee gently. "You're exhausted. You barely slept last night—I could hear you moving around at 3 AM. You're processing trauma. You need food and rest, in that order."
The observation that he'd heard me at 3 AM should have been creepy. Invasive. Instead it just reinforced what I already knew: he paid attention. Noticed things. Cared about my wellbeing in a way that went beyond keeping an asset functional.
"I'm fine," I tried.
His eyebrow raised slightly. "You're gripping the desk so hard your knuckles are white. Your hands are shaking. Your breathing is shallow. You're not fine. You're in shock and running on adrenaline."
All true. All things I'd been ignoring because stopping meant feeling and feeling meant falling apart.
"I'll have Irina bring food," he said. Standing. His hand left my knee and I immediately missed the contact. "You'll eat. Then I'm walking you back to your room and you're resting. Those are the terms."
It should have felt like orders. Like control. Like my autonomy being stripped.
Instead it felt like relief. Someone else making decisions. Someone else carrying the weight. Even if just for an afternoon.
"Okay," I whispered.
Something shifted in his expression. Softened. Like my agreement meant more than it should.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. Typed something quick. Thirty seconds later, a kind-looking woman appeared in the doorway.
"Lunch for two, Irina," Nikolai said. "Bring it to the library. Whatever's ready."
She nodded and disappeared. Efficient. Professional. Used to following orders without question.
Nikolai moved to the sectional sofa. Gestured at it. "Sit. You'll be more comfortable."
I stood. My knee protested after hours of sitting. I limped slightly crossing to the sofa. Nikolai noticed but didn't comment. Just watched me settle into the corner, then draped the blanket over my lap without asking.
The blanket was soft. Cashmere maybe. It smelled faintly of cedar and something else. Him, probably. This was his space. His reading spot.
He sat on the other end of the sectional. Not crowding. Giving me room. But close enough I could feel his presence.
"You did good work today," he said. "Really exceptional. I knew you were intelligent, but seeing it in action is different."
