I trail my fingers along her spine, tracing each vertebra and marveling at the contradiction she represents.
This vibrant woman just took me inside her with a passion that matched my own, prompting me to imagine a life I’ve never considered.
I don’t understand anything about her.
Except for the metal beneath the sparkle, the iron core that refuses to break no matter what the world throws at her.
The safe house is quiet, her soft exhales and the occasional hum of the refrigerator in the other room the only sounds. Moonlight slips through the blinds, painting silver stripes across her naked back. I map one with my finger, following it up to where her curls spill across the pillow.
I should be sleeping or planning our next move. Figuring out who’s trying to kill us and how to keep us both alive long enough to find Roman’s diamonds before our enemies do.
I’ve read her wrong from the beginning. She’s not who I thought she was when Roman first sent me after her. Nor thefragile, ignorant civilian I expected to manipulate and discard once I obtained what I needed.
There’s steel inside her, polished bright enough to either blind you or reflect your own image back at you, distorted but real.
A few days ago, this realization would’ve terrified me, compelling me to put distance between us and to refocus on the mission. Now, I tighten my arm around her waist. Her skin is sticky with sweat, with me, with us.
Roman’s voice from years ago, when he gave me the signet ring I still wear, echoes in my head.
“The moment you care, you’re dead. Care about a woman, care about a friend, care about anything more than the job, and you’ve given someone a weapon to use against you. You’ve created a weakness. And in our world, weaknesses get exploited.”
He’d know. He lost his wife and daughter on that island, and his wounds will never stop bleeding.
I study Chloe’s sleeping face, peaceful in slumber. Even her forced cheerfulness carries a brittle edge. Asleep, the mask falls away. I see her as she might’ve been if the world hadn’t damaged her first. If she hadn’t been forced to witness horrors no child should experience.
Fuck Roman and his warnings. Fuck the code I’ve lived by my entire life.
I care. I’m attached.
Fighting that won’t change my fate. This woman, this impossible mix of sunshine and shadow, has burrowed under my skin. Trying to cut her out would cause more damage than allowing her to stay.
I trace my fingers along the soft skin of her jaw.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and drowsy. “I can hear the gears grinding.”
I almost smile. “Go back to sleep. We have a few hours before dawn.”
She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow. The sheet falls away from her breasts.
Despite everything we just did and the seriousness of our situation, desire stirs again.
She raises her eyebrows. “Already?” A grin curves her lips before her expression sobers. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Everything.
Nothing.
I don’t know how to begin. How to unravel the tangle of lies and half-truths I’ve cloaked us in.
“I need to tell you something.” The words scrape my throat like glass. “Several things, actually.”
“Okay. I’m listening.” She sits up fully, pulling the sheet around her. Modest even after the intimacies we’ve shared. That might never change.
I hope it doesn’t.
I sit up, too, my back against the headboard, creating space between us. To tear down the last barriers, I need clarity and focus.
“My name is Nikolai Ilyin.” I haven’t given someone my full name in so long. “Everyone calls me Kolya. I work for the Kozlov Bratva, the Russian mafia. I’m not private security. I’m Roman Kozlov’s, the Pakhan’s, enforcer.”
