"You're thinking too loud."
I turn. Alexei's awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with those pale eyes that see too much. Hair mussed from sleep, the morning softness making him look younger. Almost vulnerable. My pussy clenches at the sight. Even now, even drowning in guilt, my body wants him.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough to watch you spiral." He sits up fully, the sheet sliding lower, revealing the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath cotton. My mouth goes dry. "Whatever you're torturing yourself about, it can wait an hour."
"It can't. It really can't."
"Sofia." His voice goes gentle in a way that undoes me. "Come back to bed."
I should resist. Should maintain some distance, some barrier between us. But my feet move without permission, carrying me back to him, back to the heat of his body that makes me forget I'm supposed to be cold.
I settle beside him, letting him pull me against his chest. His heartbeat thuds steady under my ear, his fingers threading through my hair. No heat, no desperation. Just being. But even this simple contact makes my nipples tighten beneath his shirt, makes wetness gather between my thighs. My body doesn't understand the difference between comfort and desire anymore. Not with him.
"I don't know who I am anymore," I admit, the words tearing from my throat.
"What do you mean?"
"I was so certain before. I knew exactly who I was, what I wanted. Now I look in the mirror and I don't recognize myself." My voice cracks. "I see someone who gets wet when her captor walks into a room. Someone who lies to the one person she swore never to lie to."
His chest rises with a deep breath, and I feel his cock twitch against my hip. Even my confession of being aroused by him affects him. "I know the feeling."
We lie in silence for a moment before he speaks again. "Tell me something. About your family. Something real."
I tense, every muscle going rigid. "Why?"
"Because I only know the Rosettis as enemies. I want to know them as the people who made you."
It's such an unexpected request. Such a human one.
"What do you want to know?"
"Who are you closest to?"
"Nico." The name comes without hesitation, burns on my tongue like betrayal. "He's the one who trained me. After the massacre."
"Trained you?"
"Everything. Combat, weapons, how to read a room, how to kill without hesitation." My throat tightens with memory, thick with unshed tears. "I was fifteen, terrified, having nightmares every night after what happened. Our father dead, Dante tortured into silence. The whole family shattered. I wanted to hide, to disappear, but Nico wouldn't let me."
"Why not?"
"He was nineteen, just back from his first tour. He had his own demons. I'd hear him screaming at night, down the hall, reliving whatever hell he'd seen overseas. But every morning, 5 AM, he'd be in the gym. Waiting for me. He said I'd never feel safe until I could protect myself. So he made me dangerous instead of damaged."
"And that's why you're close?"
"No." My voice drops to barely a whisper. "I was sixteen. A year after the massacre. The nightmares were still bad. I'd wake up screaming in Russian, words I didn't understand. Everyone thought I was losing my mind. Marco was making calls to facilities in Switzerland, places that deal with trauma, with fractured minds."
Alexei's hand stills in my hair, his whole body going alert.
"Nico came to my room one night. Sat on the edge of my bed while I shook and sobbed. And he said…" My voice catches, tears finally spilling. "He said, 'Sof, I don't care what's broken in you. I don't care what you remember or what you can't. You're my sister, and I'll never let anyone take you away.'"
The memory creates a hollow ache behind my ribs.
"I was crying, couldn't stop. My whole body shaking like I was coming apart. And he held me and said, 'Let's make adeal. You and me. We never lie to each other. No matter what. Everyone else can get the masks, the performance, the bullshit. But between us, only truth.'"
"You made a pact," Alexei says quietly, his thumb stroking my cheek, catching tears.
