I haven’t said the L-word explicitly. He definitely hasn’t said it. But after the library... after the way he kissed me, after the way he touched me, my fears and doubts chipped away. We both know the truth. I don’t have to say it.
He’s winning this war.
He keeps making it harder to stay grounded, too.
He walks me to class every morning, even when he has far more important things to do. He brings me flowers flown in from distant places because I complained my dorm was drab.He always makes sure I’m warm, fixing my scarf, tugging my coat tighter, holding my hand until he’s satisfied I won’t slip on the icy path. He remembers things I forget before I even forget them. He gives the best hugs of my life. Heavy, whole-body, all consuming hugs.
“Like?” he says as he opens my dorm room door to let me walk in.
I gawk as the scent of pine needles fills my nostrils.
A grand Christmas tree sits in the corner, complete with lights and an angel on top. Its glow bathes the room in a golden glow. It’s absolutely gorgeous.
“Gustav! You got me a tree?”
“Micha mentioned you miss the holidays at home. I cut down the tree. Set it up. Keira decorated it.”
“She did?”
“Da. I told her, make it look American.” He smirks as he studies the opulent ornaments. “She succeeded. No? Very... loud.”
I push his shoulder playfully and beam. “If loud means big, beautiful, and mouth dropping, then yes, this is a perfect American Christmas tree.”
He gives me a tender kiss. I close my eyes, and for a moment, I am truly scared by how intense this feels.
God, I pray this man doesn’t hurt me, because if anyone can, it’s him.
Worse? It’s only been three days since the library when we really reconnected, but I feel closer to him than I expected ever to feel toward Gustav Sokolov.
The next day, I take my seat for Mafia Law, surprised as Brutus slips into the chair beside mine. He flashes that friendly, boyish smile.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
“I take classes too,” he says. “I don’t want to be a low-level enforcer forever.”
That makes sense. Ambition is practically a survival skill in this world.
“That’s great,” I reply.
“Are you sore?”
“What?”
“From our drill yesterday? I figured you would be bruised badly when you had to be dragged while chained to bricks.”
I nod fast. “Don’t remind me!”
He chuckles warmly. “You did great. Only one of three girls in class who escaped.”
I smile proudly. “I am trying.”
Then he glances away and says casually, “Are you taken?”
There’s no flirtatiousness in his tone. Just genuine curiosity.
“Uh, yes,” I answer quietly.
He nods, slow, almost reluctant. “Figured a woman like you would be. I hope he makes you happy.”
