There's a man buried under all that control, a man who brought his wife flowers and planned surprise dates.
I think that was the man who kissed me last night. That man looked at me like I was the answer to a question he'd been afraid to ask.
But which man am I falling for? The mystery I can't solve, or the glimpses of who he used to be?
The confusion churns in my chest, mixing desire with uncertainty, doubt. Every answer he gives me leads to ten new questions. Every wall he lets down reveals another one waiting behind it.
"This building is a fortress," Anton says from behind me, his voice carrying that familiar professional cadence. "Security system personally tested by me. Same level of protection as the Pakhan's estate."
I turn to find him watching me with those damn intense gray eyes that render my brain useless.
"Your home is surprising," I say, gesturing toward the winter garden with one crutch. "I didn't know you liked gardening."
Something shifts in Anton's expression, a softening around his eyes that transforms his entire face.
"It brings me peace. Something I learned from my late wife, Katya—connecting to nature, growing things instead of..." He trails off, but I understand. Instead of destroying them.
"The garden was hers," Anton says quietly, following my gaze around his transformed living space. "After she died, I couldn't let them die, too. So I hired someone to keep them alive."
He's surrounded himself with reminders of her love, keeping pieces of their life growing when everything else stopped.
"They're beautiful," I whisper, understanding now why this fortress feels unexpectedly warm despite its rugged edges.
I want to ask a thousand questions. But the exhaustion etched into the lines around his eyes stops me. This man hasn't slept, probably hasn't eaten properly, and he's been protecting me while carrying the weight of his own ghosts.
The questions can wait.
What can't wait is the realization crystallizing in my mind with uncomfortable clarity. Anton still loves his wife.
This is present, breathing, still-bleeding love. Maybe he's not ready to move forward yet.
"I had the garden moved here," he says, voice softer now. "From the house where Katya and I lived before."
"Oh." The word escapes before I can stop it. "You didn't live here with her?"
Anton shakes his head, studying my face with an intensity that makes my skin warm. "This penthouse is one of the things I did in the last six months. Getting my life back together." He picks up my overnight bag and moves toward me as if he's going to carry me again. "I'll show you to your room."
"Wait. Let me walk on the crutches. Any stairs?"
"No stairs, Solnishko."
"Then just let me, please? I like to feel useful, not just a feature to be carried around."
Anton stops walking, turning to face me fully.
"You're not a feature." His voice drops to that gravelly tone that does dangerous things to my pulse. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself any more than you already have."
We walk slowly toward what will be my bedroom, Anton carrying my bag with his hand on the small of my back, making me think about the way he kissed me, how I melted in his arms.
"What do you want?" Anton asks, catching me off guard. There are too many things I want, starting with him kissing me, but I'm not sure exactly what he's asking me.
"There are a lot of things I want."
"If I recall correctly, you said you wanted to be more than something to be protected, arranged, managed. What does that look like for you?"
"I want to live my life. Go to college, on campus. Help with the business. I already proved to my father that I know more about our security details than he does. But he thinks that's not my place."
Anton's pace slows, his attention completely focused on my words. "You're not scared of the business?"
