"Hold on." I cross to the closet, ignoring her raised eyebrow, and dig out the case. It fits perfectly in my palm, heavier than it should be.
When I return, Oksana is watching me in the mirror. Not at me—at the reflection of me. It’s a subtle difference, but one that matters. She’s measuring my intent, as she always does. She could read my mind if she wanted, but she likes to see me sweat a little first.
I set the case on the vanity and pop it open with my thumb. The ring inside is a blood-red stone set in black gold, thekind of thing you could ransom a country for. I had it custom-cut, the facets shaped to catch light like a blade. I wanted it to be the only one of its kind. Because she is.
Oksana stiffens. Not with surprise—she’s too dangerous for that—but with a kind of reverence. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her hesitate before. Her eyes go wide, pupils blown almost black, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve fucked up. If I’ve overreached.
But then she turns, slowly, and faces me for real. She doesn’t touch the ring. She doesn’t need to. Her hands are trembling, though she tries to hide it by tucking them behind her back.
I go to one knee before she can stop me. Not because I think she needs the gesture, but because I do. Because nothing else would feel right in this moment. The floor is cold against my bare skin. My heart is pounding like the last seconds of a bomb timer.
"I figured," I say, the words rough and unpracticed, "that if the world only makes one of you… It should only make one of these, too."
I lift the ring, holding it up so the fire flickers between us. She closes her eyes for a beat, then opens them again, glassy and bright. I see her—the real her—stripped of all the masks and weapons and strategies. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her afraid.
"You’re not replaceable," I tell her. "Not by anyone. You don’t come in versions." She’s breathing hard, almostgasping. "You’re singular, Oksana. Unique. And you’re mine."
She sinks down to the floor beside me, movement smooth and deliberate. She takes my face in both hands, fingers cool and certain. I think she might snap my neck, but instead she pulls me forward until our foreheads touch. Her breath washes over my lips, mint and something sweeter.
She picks up the ring, cradling it like it might detonate if she’s too rough. Turns it once, twice, reading the inscription inside the band: contro tutti
"Forever, against everyone," I whisper, the words an oath.
She slides the ring onto her finger; the fit is perfect. She kisses me, soft at first, then all teeth and hunger. Her body pressed against mine, she whispers it back, "Always."
We stay like that, kneeling together in the pale morning sun, and I know that nothing—not blood, not history, not the endless fuckery of our world—will ever break us apart. I think of the future, the wars we’ll wage and the monsters we’ll have to outlast. I think of children, maybe, and the empire we’ll build between us. Mostly, I think of her as she is now, strong and beautiful and alive in my arms.
It’s the only thing that matters.
"I would like nothing more than to stay and show you my gratitude, Marito," she says, glancing at her slim Rolex. "But Grigori hates it when I’m late."
"Fuck him," I reply easily, already smiling.
The look she gives me—slow, sharp, complicit—tells me she’s considering exactly how much she wants to make good on that almost-promise. She lifts her phone anyway, thumbs flying.
Oksana:
We need to move the time by an hour…
"Make it two," I say, unapologetic. Petty? Absolutely. Worth it? Every second.
She pauses, deletes, and types again.
Oksana:
We need to move the time by a couple of hours.
I hum in approval.
She doesn’t look back at me—but I know she’s smiling.
Exactly two hours later,I watch as she's getting dressed, again. All business and all Oksana. "Before I go," she says, "you need to check on Alan."
My brows lift. "Alan?" Is she talking about Alan Rosso? One of my lieutenants?
"He’s having an affair." A small revolver goes on her thigh, held by a garter that makes my mouth water in anticipation of removing it with my teeth later. It takes me a moment to realize she's talking again; focusing is so goddamn hard when my dick demands all my blood. "Nothing dangerous yet, but affairs become leverage."Ah, yes, Alan's affair."Leverage becomes weakness." She pulls a wide skirt up and adjusts the belt around her slim waist. "Fix it before someone else notices."
A laugh cracks out of me when I realize. "You’re vetting my men?"
