Shekissedmethat first night. I want that again. I want her unable to resist how she feels for me, unable to deny it.
I don’t want her to surrender because she’s broken. I want her to surrender because she understands that she’s mine.
Because she’s accepted the inevitability of not only how much she belongs to me, but how much shewantsto.
I don’t want to break her. I want to bend her, shape her, mold her into the woman I know she can be—the woman who can stand beside me, who can match my darkness with her own.
The woman who already exists inside her, waiting to be freed.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call. Kazimir. I answer it, keeping my voice low, still watching Mara as she walks to the kitchen. She’s been trying to ignore the array of gourmet food that I’ve been having delivered for meals, the high-quality tea and coffee that’s always available, but she has to eat, and now and then she manages to force herself to accept that.
“What’s going on?” I ask quietly.
“Sergei has gone quiet,” Kazimir reports. “He's pulled back his men and stopped asking questions about the girl. Either he's given up or he's planning something."
"He's planning something." I lean back in my chair, still watching Mara through the crack in the door. She's pulled a book from a shelf, and is flipping through it without really reading. "He’ll likely strike when we least expect it. We need to stay one step ahead of him, if we can. Keep watching him. Let me know every move he makes. I want eyes on him at all times."
“If he realizes you’re tracking him, it could start a war,” Kazimir says flatly. "You're really willing to go to war over a woman?"
The question irritates me, but Kazimir has earned the right to ask it. "I'm willing to go to war over this woman."
He's quiet for a moment. Then: "The men are asking questions about why you’re still in New York, if this means changes in the organization. This is the longest they’ve gone without a clear directive.”
My jaw tightens, my irritation deepening. "Tell them it changes nothing. Business continues as usual. My personal life is my own concern. They’ll be given a directive that’s different from the day to day when I need them to do something else."
"Understood." He doesn't sound happy about it, but he accepts it. "I'll keep you updated on Sergei's movements."
He hangs up, and I set the phone down, returning my attention to Mara. She's abandoned the book and is now standing at the window, looking out at the city. From this angle, I can see her profile, the elegant line of her neck, the tension in her shoulders. She’s glaring out at the skyline as if she can find the answers she wants out there somewhere, but I want her to find themhere.
I want to go to her, want to wrap my arms around her from behind, press my lips to the side of her elegant neck, feel her body relax against mine. But I don't. Not yet. She needs space to process, to adjust, to come to terms with her new reality.
And I need to handle the loose ends in my life that still need to be tied up.
As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone rings again. This time, the name on the screen makes my jaw tighten.
Svetlana.
I consider not answering, but that would only delay the inevitable. Better to handle this now, cleanly and finally. There’sno chance of anything between her and I, not any longer. And the last thing I need is her somehow coming in between Mara and I. I should have ended it before I ever slept with Mara, officially. There’s no better time than the present.
I pick up the phone, still watching Mara as I answer. "Svetlana."
"Ilya." Her voice is warmer than usual, with that slight purr she uses when she wants something. "I've been trying to reach you. Where have you been?"
"Busy."
"Always busy." She laughs, but there's an edge to it. "Too busy for me, lately. When are you coming back to Boston? I have tickets to the symphony next week, and I thought we could?—"
"I'm not coming back to Boston. Not for a while."
Silence. Then: "What do you mean? You have business here. We have a wedding to plan, and?—"
"I'll be handling my business remotely for a while. Circumstances have changed."
"What circumstances?" Her voice sharpens. "Ilya, what's going on?"
I stand and walk to the window of my office, putting more distance between myself and Mara, turning my back on her for the moment. This conversation requires my full attention, and I can't afford to be distracted by the woman in the next room.
"Our arrangement is over, Svetlana."
