His lips twitch. “For thinking too much.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Because you didn’t know. And because you gave him everything I couldn’t.”
“But if I had—”
“Stop,devushka.You protected him. Kept him safe.” His hand slides to cup my cheek, and this time, when his eyes meet mine, they’re fierce with conviction. “Made him happy. You’re a good mother, Clara.”
His words sink into me, and something cracks. The weight I’ve been carrying, the constant need to prove I’m enough—it all hits at once. Not because I need his validation. But hearing it from him, from Elijah’s father…
Tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them.
Fuck.
“Are you okay,devushka?” His thumb catches a tear.
I flinch, the confession burning in my throat. “I…” The words feel like glass. “I almost aborted him when I found out I was pregnant.”
His hand slides from my chin to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. He stays quiet, waiting.
“Stephan, he…” More tears fall, like a dam breaking. Years of pain, betrayal, and guilt pouring out. “He even offered to take me to the clinic. Said it would be easier.”
“I know,devushka.” His fingers still in my hair. His other hand grips the edge of his robe, knuckles white. Surface-calm, but I feel the tension radiating through him, see the muscle jumping in his jaw.
A sob escapes me, but it burns into rage. Stephan. The man who killed Jake. Who manipulated my father. Who tried to—
Leonid’s lips brush mine, barely a touch at first. Then his hand cups the back of my head, fingers tangling in my damp hair. He kisses my tears, one by one, working his way across my cheek until he reaches my mouth again. This time, when our lips meet, there’s nothing gentle about it. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against the solid warmth of his chest.
He kisses me deep and thorough, like he’s memorizing every detail, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. I feel it in how his breath catches when I kiss him back, in the way his hand tightens in my hair, in how he slows down just to press his lips to the corner of my mouth, gentle again.
When we break apart, he keeps me close, his forehead resting against mine. His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I feel the slight tremor in his touch.
“Clara Caldwell,” he says, voice rough and low. “Let me take care of everything.”
I pull back, narrowing my eyes. “Everything meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning you stay here. Safe. With Elijah.” His hand slides down to my neck, thumb tracing my pulse point.
“While you go after Stephan alone?” I push up on my elbows. “Like hell.”
His hand drops from my neck. He sits up, shoulders rigid, staring out at the Swiss peaks through the skylight. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Because Jake was my brother. And I’ve been hunting his killer for fourteen years. You don’t get to fucking bench me now.”
63
Leonid
Two days later
Pizda, she is so fucking beautiful.
The moment Clara steps into the room, she has the attention of every breathing person here—not that she notices, or maybe she does and just doesn’t care. She stands there with her arms crossed, back straight, chin tipped up just enough to challenge the entire damn world. And me.
Mostly me.
“This is ridiculous!” she snaps, yanking off the stupid flight attendant cap and tossing it onto my desk. The thing bounces once before sliding off onto the floor, and I catch Maksim biting his lip to keep from laughing.
I don’t answer right away. I’m too busy watching the way the navy-blue airline uniform hugs every inch of her, the skirt hitting just above her knees. It shouldn’t work. It’s borderlineabsurd. But Maksim, the prick, knew exactly what he was doing when he suggested it.
I lean back in my leather chair. My gaze catches the hem of her skirt, trails up to where her fingers grip the edge of my desk. When I reach her face, her eyes lock with mine. Her right eyebrow inches up. The corner of her mouth twitches.
