"That's what worries me."
He left, and I sat alone in my study, staring at Gabrielle's report without seeing it.
***
She was in the library. The sun was setting, painting the room in shades of amber and rose. She had a book open in her lap, but she wasn't reading—her eyes were fixed on the horizon, her expression distant and thoughtful.
"Semyon left," I said from the doorway.
She turned, startled. "I know. Yelena told me." A pause. "He seemed less hostile today."
"He was impressed by your work. He doesn't impress easily."
"So I gathered." She closed the book, setting it aside. "He said I'd be taking on more responsibility. That there's a real estate acquisition that needs analysis."
"If you want it."
"I do." She met my eyes, something vulnerable flickering beneath the surface. "It helps. Having something to focus on besides..."
"Besides what?"
"Besides you."
The admission hung in the air between us. I moved into the room, drawn to her despite every instinct telling me to keep my distance.
"Gabrielle—"
"I've been thinking," she interrupted. "About last night. About everything."
"And?"
"And I still don't know what I'm doing." She stood, her movements restless, agitated. "You're—God, you're everything I should hate. Everything I do hate, sometimes. You took my life. You made me a prisoner. You forced me to marry you."
"Yes."
"But then you gave me purpose. You showed me who you are beneath the monster. You kissed me like—" She broke off, shaking her head. "Like I mattered. Like I was precious."
"You are precious." I closed the distance between us, stopping just out of reach. "You've been precious to me since the moment I first saw you."
"That's insane. You didn't even know me."
"I knew enough. I knew you were bright and lonely and so hungry for someone to see you." I reached out, letting my fingers brush her cheek. "I saw you, Gabrielle. I see you still."
She closed her eyes at my touch, and I watched her struggle—the war between what she wanted and what she thought she should want.
"I don't know how to do this," she whispered. "I don't know how to want you and hate what you've done at the same time."
"Then stop trying to separate them." I cupped her face in my hands, tilting it up to mine. "I am what I've done. The monster and the man are the same person. You can't have one without the other."
"And if I want both?"
The question shattered something inside me. I'd been holding myself back for so long—weeks of watching, wanting, waiting for a sign that she might want me too. And now she was standing before me, asking if she could have both.
"Then take both," I said roughly. "Take everything. I'm already yours."
She kissed me.
It wasn't tentative this time, wasn't careful, or uncertain. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me down to her, and her mouth claimed mine with a hunger that matched my own. I groaned against her lips, my arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her against my chest.
