Kirill didn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny it when we both knew I was right.
“So yes, I want you to ask better.” I softened my voice slightly. “I want you to ask me because you want to, not because you have to. I want to know that this is your choice, not just your obligation.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I couldn’t read his expression. Couldn’t tell if I’d pushed too far, asked for too much.
Then he smiled. Not a smirk or a half-smile, but a real smile that transformed his entire face and made him look younger, less burdened by whatever darkness he usually carried.
“You want me on my knee?”
“Eventually.” I tried to sound nonchalant. “When you’re ready to actually ask instead of announce.”
“With a ring?”
“A proper one. Not some placeholder or temporary thing. A ring that says you put thought into this, that you know me well enough to choose something I’d actually want to wear.”
“And you want to know it’s my choice, not just my obligation.”
“Yes.” The word came out softer than I intended. More vulnerable.
He leaned forward again, close enough that I could feel his breath against my face. “Barbara Davis.” His voice was serious now, all humor gone. “Every choice I’ve made since the moment I saw you in that club has been because I wanted to, not because I had to. Even the stupid ones. Even the ones that made no logical sense.”
My breath caught.
“So when I ask you—and I will ask you, properly, on my knee, with a ring that will make you smile—know that it’s because I’m choosing you. Choosing this. Choosing us.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Even if our worlds don’t make sense together. Even if it’s complicated and messy and probably a terrible idea. I’m choosing it anyway.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. “You’re really bad at not proposing while claiming you’re not proposing.”
“One of my many talents.” He pulled me closer, and I let him, tucking my head under his chin and listening to the steady beat of his heart. “But I’ll wait. I’ll do it properly. When you’re ready. When I have the ring. When I can promise you that wedding you’ve been dreaming about since you were nine.”
“Obnoxious string quartet and all?” I mumbled against his chest.
“Obnoxious string quartet and all.”
We sat like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, pretending the world outside didn’t exist. Pretending Sebastian wasn’t still out there. Pretending the blackmail didn’t still hang over my head. Pretending everything was simple instead of impossibly complex.
But eventually, reality crept back in.
Eventually, I’d have to tell him the truth about what Sebastian had on me. Eventually, we’d have to face the factthat his world and my world didn’t just collide—they crashed together in ways that would probably destroy us both.
Eventually.
But not today.
Today, I let myself have this. Have him. Have the possibility that maybe—just maybe—we could make this work.
Chapter 18 – Kirill
The Davis estate had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale.
Gold and white everywhere, draped silk hanging from the ceiling, white roses arranged in crystal vases taller than me, golden candlesticks that probably cost more than most people’s annual salaries. The chandeliers overhead glittered with thousands of crystals, throwing light across the ballroom floor in patterns that looked like scattered diamonds.
I stood at the center of it all, adjusting cufflinks that Vladimir had handed me just minutes before. Sterling silver with small sapphires, subtle but expensive, the kind of detail he insisted mattered. “You’re representing the Bratva tonight,” he’d said. “Look the part.”
So here I was, wearing a custom-tailored suit that fit better than anything I’d ever owned, surrounded by wealth I’d never quite gotten comfortable with, waiting for my fiancée to make her entrance.
My fiancée.
The word still felt foreign in my mouth. A week from now, Barbara would be my wife. But tonight she was my fiancée, and this engagement party was her dream made real.
