The accuracy of the observation makes my skin prickle. Roman does look at me like that, with a possessive intensity that should terrify me but instead makes my body respond with embarrassing eagerness. I think about his hands gripping my hips, his mouth claiming mine, the way he said "mine" against my skin like a brand.
"I have to go," I say, my voice barely steady. "I'm sorry, Tyler. I really am. But this is my choice."
"Is it?" He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his wire-rimmed glasses fogging slightly. "Or is he forcing you somehow? Eva, if you're in trouble, if you need help?—"
"I don't need help." The lie tastes familiar now, worn smooth by repetition. "I need you to respect my decision."
Tyler stares at me for a long moment, his brown eyes searching my face for something I can't give him. Then his expression shifts, hardens into something I've never seen from him before. The hurt transforms into resolve, his shoulders straightening, his jaw setting.
"There's something off about your boss," he says, his voice steady despite the tears still wet on his cheeks. "I'm going to prove it to you, Eva. I'm going to show you exactly what kind of man Roman Sokolov really is."
28
ROMAN
The black SUVs pull through the estate gates like a funeral procession, and I watch from my study window as Eva's meager belongings are unloaded. Three boxes and two suitcases. That's all she owns in the world, and the sight makes something twist in my chest. She's standing on the circular drive, her blonde hair pulled back in that sleek bun I want to destroy with my hands, her posture rigid with the same stubborn pride that's been driving me insane since the moment she agreed to marry me.
She's mine now. Living under my roof. Carrying my child. Soon to wear my ring.
But not in my bed. Not yet.
I drain my vodka and set the glass down harder than necessary. The past week has been torture—finalizing the arrangements to move her in, coordinating security, preparing the master bedroom for her arrival. I'd imagined her in my space, her perfume on my pillows, her body warm against mine everynight. Instead, she's about to tell me no, and I already know I'm going to let her win this battle.
Fuck.
I make my way downstairs, my footsteps echoing through the marble foyer. Eva turns as I approach, her brown eyes carefully neutral, her professional armor firmly in place despite the casual jeans and sweater she's wearing. Even dressed down, she's beautiful in that understated way that sneaks up on you. The sweater hugs her breasts, and my hands itch to cup them, to feel their weight, to make her gasp my name the way she did against my office door.
"Welcome home," I say, my accent thicker than I intend.
Her jaw tightens slightly. "Thank you."
One of my men approaches with her suitcases, waiting for direction. I gesture toward the stairs. "Third floor. Master bedroom."
"No."
The word is quiet but absolute. Eva's brown eyes meet mine without flinching, and I see the steel beneath her exhaustion. "I'll take a guest room. We're not married yet."
"Eva—"
"I won't share your bed until the wedding makes it legitimate." Her voice is steady, controlled, but I hear the tremor beneath it. "That's non-negotiable."
I study her face, reading the determination there, the last piece of herself she's clinging to. She's surrendered so much already.This is the line she's drawing, and I recognize that pushing will only drive her further away.
"Second floor," I tell my man, my voice flat. "The blue guest suite."
Relief flickers across Eva's features before she masks it. She follows the security team upstairs, and I watch the sway of her hips, the curve of her ass in those jeans, and imagine peeling them off her body. Soon. After the wedding, she'll be in my bed every night, and I'll make her forget every reason she tried to keep distance between us.
But for now, the empty master bedroom mocks me.
I can't stay here. Can't pace these halls knowing Eva is one floor below, so close but untouchable. I grab my jacket and keys, texting Lev that I'm heading to the office. His response is immediate.
Already here with David. We need to talk.
The drive into the city does nothing to ease my frustration. The Saturday evening traffic is light, and I arrive at the tower in record time. The building is mostly empty, just security and the occasional workaholic burning weekend hours. The elevator ride to the forty-second floor feels longer than usual, my mind churning with thoughts of Eva unpacking in that guest suite, claiming space in my home but not in my bed.
Lev and David are in my office when I arrive, both men looking as exhausted as I feel. David has his laptop open, financial reports spread across my desk. Lev stands at the windows, his dark eyes scanning the city below with the same vigilance he brings to everything.
"Tell me you have good news," I say, pouring vodka for all three of us.
