Dmitri exhales slowly behind him. Mikhail watches like he’s observing a negotiation he already knows the outcome of. Papa says nothing.
Roman’s grip tightens slightly. “I have wanted you since the moment I pulled you out of that warehouse,” he says quietly. The memory flashes between us. His hands pulling me free. The fury in his eyes. The way he held me like he was afraid I would disappear.
“That was adrenaline,” I whisper.
“No.” His jaw shifts. “It wasn’t.”
My breath catches. “And last night?” I ask, softer.
His gaze darkens, not with heat this time, but something deeper. “Last night was me being done pretending.” My stomach tightens. “You think I held you like that because I was confused?” he asks. “You think I woke up with you in my arms this morning and thought it was temporary?”
The memory hits hard. His chest under my cheek. His hand splayed over my back. The way he didn’t let go even in sleep.
“You didn’t say anything,” I whisper.
His jaw flexes. “You were promised to another man twelve hours ago. We haven’t really had a chance to talk since,” He smirks.
“I am not anymore.”
His eyes darken at that. “No,” he agrees. “You are not.”
His forehead lowers slightly, not touching, just close enough that I feel the heat of him. “So don’t say ‘if he wants me’ like I’ve been undecided,” he murmurs. “I have been waiting.”
“For what?” I murmur, my heart thudding so hard I’m sure he can feel it through his hands.
“For you to choose me,” he answers. There’s no hesitation in him now. No restraint. Just truth laid bare between us.
I don’t look away. “I choose you,” I say, and this time I let myself smile.
Something shifts in his face. Not surprise. Not triumph.
“Oh God,” Dmitri mutters loudly. “I’m getting out of here. I cannot stand around and watch my baby sister be like this.”
“Be like what?” I shoot back.
“Soft,” he says, already heading toward the door. “It’s disturbing.”
I laugh before I can stop myself.
Mikhail rises more gracefully, smoothing his jacket. “I second that. This is rapidly becoming unbearable.” He glances at Papa. “Lunch?”
Papa watches us for another quiet moment. His gaze lingers on Roman’s hands at my waist, then on my face. He looks satisfied. “Yes,” he says at last.
Dmitri is already halfway out. “Good. Before they start staring at each other again.”
“I can hear you,” I call after him.
“That’s the point.”
Mikhail gestures toward the door. “Come, Dmitri. Let them have their moment.”
Papa steps closer instead. He cups my cheek again, the gesture gentler this time. Familiar. Warm. “I love you, moy solnyshko.”My little sun.
My throat tightens all over again. “I love you too, Papa.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead, then finally turns to follow my brothers.
At the doorway, Dmitri pauses. “Roman.”
