Mine. She was mine.
"Good morning, devotchka," I murmured.
She made a sleepy sound. Something between a groan and a whimper. Burrowed closer against my side like she was trying to climb inside my skin. Her hand fisted in my t-shirt.
"Don't wanna wake up yet." Her voice was small. Still caught between sleep and waking. Still young-sounding. Little Sophie lingering from last night.
I smiled against her hair. Pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You don't have to wake up yet. We have time."
"What time is it?" She lifted her head slightly. Blinked at me with sleepy grey-green eyes. Her hair was a mess. She had pillow creases on her cheek. She'd never looked more beautiful.
"Six-fifteen."
She groaned. Dropped her head back down to my chest. "That's so early, Kolya."
The nickname made my chest tight. She only called me Kolya when she was little or when she was too comfortable to maintain formality. When the walls were completely down.
I checked the time again. Six-seventeen now. We had no obligations today. No meetings. No territory disputes requiring my attention. No immediate Belyaev threats that Maks had flagged. Just a whole Saturday stretching ahead of us.
An idea formed. Something I'd been thinking about for days but hadn't had the right moment to suggest.
"How would you feel about going to the beach today?" I asked.
She lifted her head again. More awake now. Those grey-green eyes curious. "The beach?"
"Brighton Beach. There's a section my family used to visit when I was young. Private. Quiet." I tucked hair behind her ear. "I want to show you."
Her face lit up. That brightness I'd come to crave. That unguarded joy that said she was happy. Safe. Free.
"Really? Just us?"
"Just us," I confirmed. "We can leave around nine. Spend the whole day. Come back when we're ready."
She was fully awake now. Pushed herself up on her elbow. The t-shirt slipped further off her shoulder. I could see the curve of her breast. The marks I'd left on her neck last night. Evidence of ownership I'd marked deliberately.
"I'd love that," she said. Her voice was steadier now. More adult. But excitement colored it. Made her sound young anyway. "Can we get pirozhki? The ones with meat and cabbage? And those sweet cheese things?"
The fact that she remembered the names of Russian pastries from the one time I'd mentioned them made something warm bloom in my chest.
"Anything you want, devotchka," I said.
She leaned down and kissed me. Soft. Sweet. Tasting like sleep and Sophie and home.
"Thank you," she whispered against my lips. "For wanting to show me your places. For letting me in."
I pulled her down against my chest. Held her tight. Felt that warmth in my chest expand until I thought I might burst with it.
This woman. This small, fierce, brilliant woman who'd somehow become the center of my universe in less than a month. Who made me want things I'd never let myself want before. Who made me believe in possibilities I'd given up on.
"Always, malyshka," I said. "I'll always let you in."
BytenAMwewere walking along the boardwalk at Brighton Beach and I felt lighter than I had in years. Maybe since I was twenty-five. Before the weight of leading an entire bratva settled on my shoulders and made breathing feel like work. Here, with Sophie's hand in mine and the ocean stretching endless to our right, I felt almost normal.
Almost human.
Sophie was wearing a soft yellow sundress I'd bought her last week. The color made her skin glow. Made her honey-colored hair look even lighter in the morning sun. The dress was simple—thin straps, fitted bodice, skirt that fell to mid-thigh. Nothing provocative. But watching her walk in it made my throat tight.
She'd pulled her hair back in a ponytail. No makeup except what looked like tinted lip balm. Her grey-green eyes were bright. Happy. She swung our joined hands slightly as we walked, like she couldn't contain the energy inside her.
