She huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh, but she doesn’t tell me to leave. That alone feels like permission I should not take.
The promise echoes in my head, clear and binding.
No touching. No intimacy.
I stay where I am, hands loose at my sides, deliberately keeping distance between us. She is watching me closely, but she looks uncertain and guarded. Something in my chest tightens knowing that she does not understand how much power she has standing there like this.
My fingers move restlessly, metal rings clanking together in the stillness.
“You think people don’t see you,” I say quietly, continuing the thread we left hanging earlier. “You think you move through the world unnoticed.”
Her mouth twists. “It’s the opposite problem, actually. I know exactly what people see.”
“You know what some men allow you to see,” I correct her. “That isn’t the same thing.”
Her eyes flicker as something uncertain passes through them. “You’re not helping.” Her arms wrap tighter, as if she wants to disappear from my sight.
But I’ll never stop looking at her.
“I’m not trying to comfort you,” I reply. “I’m trying to correct you.”
I step closer then, but it’s slow enough that Aly has time to retreat if she wants to. The fact that she doesn’t means she’s thinking about what could happen here too.
Between us.
No touching.
The space between us is charged and precarious, and I stop just short of touching her. My presence alone is enough to make her breath shift.
“You are going to be my fiancée,” I continue evenly. “People will look at you differently. They will assume things about you whether you invite it or not.”
Her gaze drifts away from mine, and I see the insecurity there. It’s raw and familiar. She looks just like she did the first night I watched her behind the bar. The first time I saw her step foot on solid ground when she came off my jet.
Something protective coils through me, sharp-edged and possessive.
“Look at me,” I demand.
She hesitates, then does.
“They’ll say things about me,” she says quietly. “About you being with someone like me.”
“I need you to understand something, Alyona. You are not to worry about anyone’s attention butmine.”
Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat.
“Sit,” I tell her.
I do not raise my voice, but the word carries weight, and I watch the moment she realizes she is obeying me without thought. Alyona moves to the edge of the bed, perching there stiffly, eyes never leaving mine. The robe rides up to her knees, revealing curvy calves, bare feet, and painted blue toenails.
I remain standing.
“You’re safe here,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean you’re invisible.”
She swallows. “You said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“I won’t. That doesn’t mean I won’t show you exactly what I want.”
Her breath stutters, and I know I have her full and unguarded attention now.
