Kazimir.
Update on Sergei's movements. Call when you can.
I sit up, suddenly alert. The kiss, Mara's presence in my home, the way I just claimed her—it's all been a temporary distraction from the very real threat that brought her here in the first place. Sergei doesn't make idle threats, and his interest in Mara isn't going to disappear just because she's under my protection now.
If anything, it makes her more valuable to him.
I change my clothes, then head down the stairs toward my office. The penthouse is silent except for the ambient hum of the city far below. I pause outside the guest room door, my hand hovering near the handle. I could open it so easily. The lock is nothing, a token gesture of privacy that I could bypass in seconds.
But I don't. Not yet.
In my office, I close the door and call Kazimir. He answers on the first ring.
“What’s going on?” I ask, settling down into the leather chair behind my desk.
"Sergei's been busy." Kazimir's voice is rough with exhaustion. "He's pulled in help from the Italians, reached out to some of his independent connections. He's planning something."
“What about Mara?”
"He knows you took the girl, and he's trying to figure out why. Word is he's offering a substantial finder's fee for any information about her. Who she is, what she means to you, where she came from."
I feel my jaw tighten. "Has anyone talked?"
"Not yet. But it's only a matter of time. You know how this works—everyone has a price."
I do know. I've used that principle myself more times than I can count. Loyalty is a commodity like any other, bought and sold to the highest bidder.
"Increase surveillance on all of Sergei's operations," I say flatly, drumming my fingers against the top of the desk. "I want to know every move he makes, every conversation he has that you can tap into. And fortify security around the building I’m in. Double the guards, add another layer to the access protocols. No one gets within a hundred feet of this building without us knowing about it."
There's a pause on the other end of the line. Then Kazimir says, carefully, "Ilya. You know I respect you. You know I'd follow you into hell if you asked."
"But?" My teeth clench together.
"But keeping her here is dangerous. For you, for your organization, for her. Sergei already suspected you had a weakness—now you've confirmed it. You've shown him exactly where to strike if he wants to hurt you."
My hand curls into a fist. "He won't get to her."
"You can't guarantee that. No matter how good our security is, no matter how many men we have, there's always a way in. You know that better than anyone."
I lean back in my chair, staring at the city lights beyond my window. He's right, of course. Keeping Mara here is a tactical error. The smart move would be to send her away, hide her somewhere Sergei could never find her, or remove her from the equation entirely. Break ties with her and send her somewhere else, far away from me.
But I can't.
The thought of her leaving, of putting distance between us again, is physically painful. I've spent weeks watching her from afar, learning her routines, studying her life, waiting for the right moment to bring her into mine. Now that she's here, now that I've tasted her, felt her in my arms, beeninsideher, I can't let her go.
I won't.
"She stays," I growl, and my voice leaves no room for argument.
Kazimir sighs. "Then we need to be smart about this. Sergei's going to make a move—it's just a question of when and how. We need to be ready."
"We will be. What else do you have?"
"He's been asking questions about the gallery. About her work, her connections, her finances. He's trying to understand why you'd risk everything for an art curator."
"And what's he concluded?"
"Probably that you're either fucking her or planning to. Either way, he’s going to think you've lost your edge. That you've gone soft."
