Alyona does not feel like hesitation.
She feels like gravity.
I shift onto my side and stare at the shadowed outline of the room, and the dark wood and stone that have always been enough for me. My hand tightens in the sheets as guilt curls through me again, sharper this time.
We both agreed in the middle of the night that it would be better for her to go back to her room. The staff wouldn’t notice that way and word wouldn’t get back to her father. Most likely.
I broke my own rule. I crossed a line I swore I wouldn’t. I should not have crossed that line with her; not with Liev’s daughter. Not with someone whose safety I am responsible for.
And yet.
The thought comes, unwelcome and undeniable.
I didn’t feel like a predator last night. Not when Alyona was so willingly giving herself to me. I felt like a man.
The distinction frightens me enough that I sit up abruptly. My feet hit the floor with a soft thud, and I drag a hand through my hair trying to ground myself in the simple physical reality of movement. I stand there breathing until the echo of her warmth recedes enough for me to function.
Obsession, I understand. Possession, I understand. Desire sharpened into control is something I have wielded before.
This feels different.
That thought follows me into the shower, into clean clothes, and into the cool predawn hallways of the house. I move through them like a ghost, but my mind circles a truth I don’t want to name.
By the time the sun has risen fully, I find her without meaning to.
She’s coming down the path from the guest wing toward the main house. Her hair is pulled back, and her steps are brisk. Her expression is set with the kind of determination that tells me she is braced for conflict. I slow down automatically at the sight of her. I come to a full stop, but I’m cataloging exits and angles out of habit. Why the hell am I looking to escape from this woman, when I’ve faced men with entire empires, armies, blood on their hands?
Aly sees me at the same moment, and the air between us tightens.
Neither of us speaks at first.
There is color high on her cheekbones, and it’s a flush that has nothing to do with the Savannah heat. Her eyes flicker over me, taking in my posture, my expression, and the distance between us. I recognize the wariness there, and the readiness to fight rather than yield, but something in my chest twists. I saw it there the day she stepped out of my jet. It’s something that’s buried in me, too.
“You shouldn’t be walking the grounds alone,” I say finally. “Not after last night. That was too close.”
Her lips press together. “I’m not alone. This place is crawling with your men, isn’t it? And they’ll keep me here, like you asked?”
That lands, sharp and fair.
“They exist to keep you safe, Alyona.”
“That’s not true,” she snaps. Frustration cuts through the restraint she has clearly been trying to maintain. “Do you even hear yourself?They exist to keep me safe.You hired most of them long before you ever knew me, Kazimir. They’re criminals, they’re…”
Her eyes search over my shoulders, looking for the words to communicate just how damning this is.
“That didn’t seem to matter last night.” It comes out low and flat. It’s the voice of a Bratva leader, not the voice of the man she had beneath her last night. She knows it too. She glances at me quickly, then away.
“It was adrenaline, and I wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place if you hadn’t made me?—”
“No,” I cut her off firmly. I take a step toward her on the gravel path; towering over her. She’s beautiful and frustrating, and that feeling I had this morning is starting to sour. “You forget that you don’t have a choice, Aly. Even if you don’t want me,” the words come out cold and as sharp as ice despite the summer morning, “you wereborn into this.You are Liev’s daughter.”
Her chin comes up, defiantly. It’s bolder than I’ve seen before. “Is that why you fucked me? Because I’m his daughter? You know my father thinks you’re his friend, but maybe you’re just as much of a sociopath as they say you are.”
The words hit a tender spot inside me. I stop short, studying her face, and the way her chin lifts as if daring me to contradict her. I see it then, the thing I missed before, it’s not fear, but something adjacent to it. Vulnerability. The humiliation of being reduced, managed, and protected.
This isn’t about last night. Not really.
“I am not trying to make you small,” I say, slower now.
