Kazimir whistles low under his breath, like he can’t believe what he just heard.
Niko’s stare is sharp, searching me, but he doesn’t challenge it. He knows as well as I do—this solution is ironclad. Binding. Traditional enough to hold up under scrutiny.
And most importantly, it keeps her out of enemy hands.
No one objects. The matter is settled.
The meeting wraps, papers pushed aside, ledgers closed, and yet I remain silent. Everyone files out slowly, murmuring their agreements and confirmations, but I stay planted at the head of the table, hands gripping the edge.
I can’t stop thinking about her. Sasha. Her laugh in Milan, light and unrestrained, the way her eyes roamed the canal as she talked, the way her gaze sparkled when she let herself be unguarded. And then—Noelle’s kitchen. That look she shot me. Pure loathing. Disgust. I can still feel it crawling under my skin.
I tell myself it’s business. The Rusnak way. The ledger demands it. Protection, preservation, control. The family.
But even as I recite the rules to myself, I know it’s not just business. I don’t want her bound to the family—I want her bound to me. Possessively. All-consuming. And the thought of forcing her into this, even for her safety, twists something deep inside me.
I lean back, jaw tight, trying to swallow down the heat curling through my chest. It’s just business.
But my heart doesn’t listen.
I hear a throat clear and look up to find Kaz and Niko watching me with those narrowed eyes that mean they’re trying to read me like an open ledger. They’re both close—closer than cousins, closer than friends. Brothers in everything that matters. I can relax with them and be myself.
“What is this about?” Kaz asks, voice clipped. He leans forward, folded hands on the table. “I find it unbelievable that you would shackle yourself to any woman, Lev. Especially not in a transaction. What’s the plan?”
Niko snorts, the sound loose and dangerous. “He knows the lady. He’s fucked her before.”
My hands twitch in my lap. I keep them curled into fists because I won’t give them the sight of me unraveling. How dare Niko speak of her like that?
He doesn’t know I’m seething. He’s laughing, filling Kaz in with all the juicy details like it’s gossip.
Kaz whistles under his breath when Niko finishes, an odd little sound that could be amusement or warning. “Well. Best of luck,” he says finally, and there’s real warmth in it. “I hope you don’t regret your decision.”
I don’t answer. I can feel the heat behind my ribs—possession, shame, something that tastes like fear and hunger all at once. I stand, the chair scraping back like a verdict, and I walk out before anyone else can dress the moment up in questions they don’t need answered.
Outside, the Chicago air hits me and clears my head enough to think. As I cross the parking lot, Mikhail falls into step at my shoulder—one of the only men who knows how far I’ll go and what I won’t tolerate.
We reach the car, and I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Bring her to me,” I say, voice low and final. “Tonight.”
Chapter 7 – Sasha
I’m bone-tired, the kind of tired that sits in your joints after a fourteen-hour shift and refuses to be bribed away by a shower. My uniform is folded into my bag, my hair is tied in a messy knot, and my feet hurt in shoes that were never meant for more than a few hours. I should be home, curled up, pretending the world doesn’t have teeth.
Instead, I walk the employee exit, the fluorescent corridor humming, my ID badge tapping against my hip. I’m finally back in Chicago, and I can’t wait to get home.
My head keeps going back to that lunch three days ago—the way Lev stood in Noelle’s kitchen like he owned the place, the way he looked at me. I almost wanted to smack him. I replay his smug, impossible smile and feel heat prick along my neck.
“Breathe, Sasha,” I tell myself, because breathing is the only thing that keeps me from losing my cool in public. Don’t engage. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
I’d thought I’d handled it, held my ground, stayed polite and detached. But seeing him again, so close, so impossible to ignore…it brought everything roaring back.
The sting of rejection, the confusion, the way he made me feel alive and vulnerable at the same time.
I clench my fingers around the luggage and drag one hand down my face. I hate how much I still think about him. Hate that the memory of him is lodged in my chest like a pulse I can't quiet.
I need to sleep. I need the flight to fade, the memory of his smirk, his hands, the way he made me melt and then walked away. But even the silence of the hallway feels loud with him. Every shadow seems to carry his shape, every creak of the airconditioning a reminder of what I didn’t have the courage to say, what I didn’t want to admit I still wanted.
I groan, trying to will the obsession out of my head. But it’s no use. Lev Rusnak has a way of sticking to you. And right now, I have nowhere to run.
I’m barely halfway down the fluorescent corridor when two men step into my path. Well-dressed. Cold-eyed. And my stomach drops—they’re Bratva. I’ve seen this type before, in Milan with Lev’s security, around Noelle’s mansion. Enough to know I’m in trouble.
