The door creaks open, a quiet intrusion against the low hum of the office. I turn, glass still in hand, to see Mikhail step inside.
I sigh, dragging a palm down my face. “Is she settled in nicely?”
He smiles, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, and nods. “She has a lot of fire in her, Lev. You’re in for a wild ride.”
I just shake my head and say nothing. Words feel like sand in my mouth.
Mikhail strolls toward the desk, slowly, like he’s testing me. “Why didn’t you just let her work off the money in one of the establishments? A bar, a club. She’s so set on hating you—why bother with this?”
“No.” The word rips out of me before I even think about it. “She’s mine.” My voice comes out low, almost a growl. It hangs in the air between us, raw, ugly, honest.
Mikhail’s smile deepens, but he doesn’t push. He just turns and walks out, shutting the door behind him.
I stand there, pulse still hammering in my throat, staring at the spot where he’d been.
“She’s mine.”
The words echo in my head like a shot fired in a closed room.
Finally, I give up. I set the glass down, heavy, half-full. I run a hand through my hair, the alcohol a temporary reprise that does nothing for me.
I leave the office, locking the door behind me. I force my steps steady, my expression blank, even as my mind reels. I tell myself it’s just sleep I’m chasing, not her.
Just sleep, Lev.
I climb the stairs to the suite, the bed beckoning like the only sanctuary I can allow myself tonight. I collapse onto it, eyes wide open for too long, staring at the ceiling, fighting the restlessness gnawing at my chest.
Eventually, exhaustion wins over the storm in my head. I close my eyes, forcing the muscles to relax, forcing the thoughts to retreat, forcing myself to forget…if only until morning.
***
Morning comes too quickly, sunlight slicing through the blinds, spilling across the suite. I wake before it fully settles and rush quietly through my morning routine, struggling not to fall into the same cycle as yesterday, where Sasha was the only thing on my mind.
I dress hurriedly and go downstairs for breakfast, slouching in the chair at the dinner table, my mind on a loop. The cook sets my breakfast on the table, bows slightly, and disappears into the kitchen. I pick at the food, appetite gone, every bite tasting like ash.
Part of me wants to call her down to have breakfast with me, bark an order, remind her that she’s mine now in every sense that matters. But another part, the part that surprises me more than it should, whispers to wait. To let her adjust. To let her breathe…before I claim every inch of her world.
I stare at the cup in front of me, fingers tapping the edge. Patience, I tell myself, though the growl in my chest says otherwise. She’s mine. And soon enough, she’ll understand what that really means.
I’m halfway through my coffee when the sound of footsteps on the marble makes me look up. I expect Mikhail or the cook—certainly not her. But there she is. Sasha.
She walks in like she owns the place, hair brushed, eyes bright, wearing a soft smile that doesn’t belong to the furious girl from last night. For a second, I just stare. It’s like seeing sunlight where I expected a storm.
“Morning,” she says lightly, sliding into the chair opposite mine. “Hope you don’t mind me joining you.”
I lean back, narrowing my eyes. “What’s up with you?”
“I had time to think,” she says, reaching for the orange juice. “And I have a proposition for you.”
My pulse kicks up. “Go on.”
She looks me dead in the eye. “Pay off my father’s debt without marrying me. I’ll work for you—do whatever job you give me—and I’ll pay you back every cent. You won’t lose anything.”
For a moment, I can’t even breathe. I thought she’d come down to apologize, or at least soften. But no. Even now, she’s still trying to run from me. Still trying to turn this into a transaction instead of what it’s going to be.
My fingers tighten on the coffee cup until I can feel the ceramic creak. “No.”
Her brows lift. “No?”
