“And I’m sorry.” I meant it. Meant it with every fiber of my being. “I got panicked about the baby. About what you’ve been through. About the secrets you’re still hiding from me. I didn’t know how to process any of it, so I—”
“Ran.” She finished the sentence for me. “Like everyone else.”
“I’m not everyone else.” I moved closer, and this time she didn’t back away. “And I’m not running anymore. I’m here. I’m staying. Whether you want me to or not.”
She studied my face like she was looking for the lie. Looking for the escape clause I’d use when things got too complicated. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m Bratva.” The words came out before I could stop them. “Because we don’t abandon what’s ours. And like it or not, you and that baby—” I gestured toward her still-flat stomach, “—are mine now.”
Her expression shifted, something between outrage and disbelief. “I’m not property, Kirill.”
“I didn’t say you were.” I held my ground. “I said you’re mine to protect. There’s a difference.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to deflate slightly. The anger was still there, but exhaustion was winning. She moved to the sitting room off the foyer, sinking onto a velvet sofa like her legs couldn’t hold her anymore.
I followed, but instead of sitting beside her—invading her space in a way she clearly wasn’t ready for—I dropped onto the ottoman across from her.
She flinched.
The small movement cut deeper than any words could have. She was afraid. Not of me specifically, maybe, but of men in general. Of people getting too close. Of trusting someone who might hurt her.
Sebastian had done that to her. Years of terror had taught her that proximity meant danger.
“Hey.” I kept my voice gentle, non-threatening. “Look at me, Barbara.”
She did, reluctantly, her honey-brown eyes meeting mine.
“You don’t need to be afraid of anything or anyone when I’m around.” I let the truth of that statement settle between us. “I’m not Sebastian. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to use you. I’m here to protect you. Both of you.”
“You don’t even know me,” she whispered.
“I know enough.” I leaned forward slightly, elbows on my knees, trying to make myself smaller. Less threatening. “I know you’ve survived five years of blackmail and terror. I know you’re stronger than you think you are. I know you called me when you were dying, which means some part of you trusts me even if you’re not ready to admit it.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “You said you’re not going anywhere. What does that mean?”
“It means I’m in this. All of it.” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “I don’t care what Sebastian has on you. Whatever secret he’s using to blackmail you—I’ll wait for you to trust me with it. I’m not going to force you to share something you’re not ready to tell.”
“But?” She heard the unspoken word.
“But I do care about the child you’re carrying. Our child.” I watched her expression carefully. “That baby changes everything, Barbara. You understand that, right? This isn’t just about you and me anymore. There’s a third person involved now. Someone who didn’t ask to be part of this mess but who deserves protection anyway.”
She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together in her lap. “I know.”
“Good.” I sat back slightly. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let me help you. You’re going to let me deal with Sebastian. You’re going to let me make sure you and the baby are safe.”
“And if I don’t want your help?”
“Too bad.” No point in lying about it. “You’re getting it anyway. Because the alternative is you trying to handle this alone, and we both know how that’s working out.”
She flinched again, and I immediately regretted the harsh words.
“That was—” I stopped, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not good at this. At talking about feelings or being gentle or whatever it is people do in these situations. But I meant what I said. I’m here. I’m staying. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“Even if it means breaking your promise to Vladimir?” The question was quiet but pointed. She’d been paying attention. Had pieced together more than I’d realized.
“Even then.” The admission felt like stepping off a cliff.
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. Then it vanished as quickly as it appeared, her expression closing off.
