"I should—I should get out. Go back to my room. I shouldn't—"
"You shouldn't what?"
She looked up at me, and the hunger in her eyes matched the hunger burning in my chest. Without conscious thought, I reached for her—my hand finding her waist beneath the water, pulling her closer.
She didn't resist. Her hands came up to rest against my chest, not pushing away, just... resting there. Feeling my heartbeat, maybe. Or bracing herself for what came next.
"Gabrielle." Her name was a prayer on my lips.
I lowered my head. She tilted hers up. The space between us shrank to inches, to centimeters, to almost nothing at all.
Then a guard's voice crackled from somewhere on the terrace: "Mr. Chernov? You have an urgent call from New York."
The moment shattered.
Gabrielle jerked back, her hands flying to cover her mouth as if she could take back the almost-kiss. I let her go, every cell in my body screaming in protest.
"I have to take that," I said roughly.
She nodded, already moving toward the ladder. "Of course. Go."
I hauled myself out of the pool, grabbed my shirt without putting it on, and strode toward the house. I didn't look back. I couldn't look back without doing something unforgivable.
But I felt her eyes on me all the way to the door.
***
She found me in the library that night.
I'd been expecting her—or hoping, at least. After the pool, after the almost-kiss that still burned on my lips like a brand, I knew something had to give. We couldn't keep circling each other like this, pretending the tension between us didn't exist.
She stood in the doorway, wearing a thin cotton dress that did nothing to hide the body I'd seen in the water. Her hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends. Her feet were bare.
"What do you want from me?"
The question cut through the silence like a blade. I set aside my book and waited.
"I need to know," she continued, her voice unsteady. "What is this to you? What am I? A trophy wife? A pet? A prisoner who eventually stops fighting and learns to heel?"
"None of those things."
"Then what?" She stepped into the room, her hands clenched at her sides. "Because I don't understand you, Vasily. One minute you're my captor, forcing me into marriage, controlling every aspect of my life. The next time you're giving me work, talking to me like an equal, almost kissing me in the pool like—"
"Like what?"
"Like you actually care about me." The words came out raw, almost accusatory. "Like this isn't just some twisted game."
I stood slowly, closing the distance between us. She held her ground, her chin lifted, her eyes blazing with the defiance that had drawn me to her in the first place.
"You want to know what I want?" I stopped an arm's length away, close enough to touch but holding myself back. "I want you, Gabrielle. All of you. Your mind, your body, your trust, your anger, every part of you that you've been hiding from the world."
She flinched like I'd struck her.
"But I want it freely given," I continued, my voice rough. "I want you to come to me because you choose to. Because you want to. Not because you're scared, or trapped, or have no other options." I reached out, my fingers brushing her jaw, tilting her face up to mine. "I want to earn you. Even if it takes years. Even if it takes forever."
"And if I never choose you?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "If I spend the rest of my life hating you?"
"Then I'll spend the rest of my life trying to change that. I'll watch you from a distance. I'll give you everything you need. And I'll die knowing I was the fool who had you and couldn't make you want to stay."
