Then I release her and step back, giving her space to breathe. To run, if she's smart.
But she doesn't run.
She just stares at me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark. Then she turns and walks away.
I watch her go for a long moment, that hunger a banked, burning ember inside of me. I watch the movement of her hips, the fall of her hair down her back, and I imagine the moment when all of her… every inch, every thought, every molecule, will belong to me.
She's mine. She just doesn't know it yet.
—
I callKazimir to meet me in my office when I arrive back at the penthouse. I can feel urgency humming beneath my skin, and Kazimir seems to pick up in the change in my mood, his gaze wary as he walks in.
I wait until he closes the door behind him before I speak. "We're expanding to New York.”
Kazimir pauses for a moment, his gaze carefully neutral. "New York?"
I nod. “We’ve discussed this before. The opportunities there are significant. I don’t want to let them go to waste any longer.”
“What about Sergei?”
My jaw tightens. If I were really making inroads, thepakhanof New York’s largest Bratva would not like it. And if he catches wind of my presence, he may not like that, either. He’ll infer me taking up any kind of residence there as a threat, which I can understand. I would feel the same if he came to Boston for any length of time. “What about him?”
Kazimir is still watching me. I can feel the uncertainty wafting off of him, but he’s not a man to argue. He follows orders; he always has.
“When?” he asks finally.
“We’ll fly out tomorrow, you and I. I want to keep our presence there small at first.”
“Tomrrow.” Kazimir's tone is carefully measured. He's questioning me without questioning me, a skill he's perfected over years of working together. "That's fast."
I look at him. "You have concerns?"
"No concerns." But I can see them in his face—see him trying to understand the urgency, the sudden shift in plans. "Just surprised."
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. It’s just time now to put it into motion. I’m always careful about what I do; you know that.”
He nods. He does know that. I've never given him reason to doubt it.
Until now—because I'm lying to him. Lying to all of them.
The realization sits heavy in my chest. In all my years of building this organization, I've never lied to my men. I’ve never hidden my motivations, never pretended my decisions were based on anything other than cold, calculated strategy.
But I'm lying now, because this isn't about business. This is about her.
I need to be near her. I need to watch her, to learn her, study every aspect of her life until I know her better than she knows herself. I need to understand what makes her laugh, what makes her angry, what makes her moan.
I need to make her mine.
This obsession should concern me. I'm losing control, making decisions based on emotion rather than logic. But I don't care.
I've spent my entire life being controlled, strategic, patient, building an empire on discipline and restraint. And now I want something for myself, something that has nothing to do with business or power or money.
I want her.
And I'm going to have her.
5
