"Maybe," I say. "But you've never lied to me. You’ve been brutally honest from the start of our relationship, even when it works against you. You've never used me as a bargaining chip or shown up drunk outside a hotel to guilt me into something." I look at him. "You've never once made me feel like a burden."
He's watching me now, keeping still, the way he gets when he's one hundred percent focused on someone. The way he always listens to me when I speak.
"Danyl gave up his freedom to protect Liza, a woman he’s just met," I say. "He protects her. Supports her. Finds ways to lift her up and help her succeed.”
“He’s her husband,” Alexei says, like that explains everything.
I look down to hide my smile. He’s just made my point for me, but I still continue. “Rurik runs an organization where people would die for each other. When he first met Perla, he might not have pursued her for unselfish reasons, but look at their relationship now. She’s more ruthless than him in her political endeavors, and he’s proud of her. He has no problem taking a step back and letting her shine." I shake my head. "And then there's my dad. Not completely clean, but he prides himself on not doing big illegal things. Keeps bragging about how he’s never committed a violent crime." I swipe at an angry tear that’s escaped down my cheek. "And he's the most damaging man I've ever known."
Alexei is quiet for a moment. "Are you making an argument for criminals?" he asks carefully.
"No, I'm making an argument foryou. Specifically." I set my water glass down on the windowsill. "You could have been cruel, or indifferent. You held all the cards and I had none. But you kept your promises. Every single one."
He looks at me, like he's trying to find a catch.
"Alexei," I say. "I'm in love with you."
The words come out steady. I'm surprised by that. I've been turning them over in my head for weeks, afraid of how they'd land, afraid of what he'd do with them. But they feel right.He doesn't move for a second.
Then he reaches out and cups my face in both hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, the touch so careful it makes my eyes sting.
"Roza," he says, and my name in his mouth sounds like a promise.
"You don't have to say it back," I blurt. "I just needed you to…"
He kisses me. Slow and deep and deliberate. His hands stay on my face, holding me gently, and I curl my fingers into the front of his shirt and kiss him back with everything I have.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
"I'm in love with you," he says quietly. "I've been in love with you since you told me I couldn't drive you home."
I laugh, the sound surprised and a little wet. "That was the first night we met."
"Yes," he says, like that explains everything.
The night presses against the tall windows, but the only thing that matters right now is the heat rolling off Alexei’s body as I take his hand and tug him down the hallway. My fabric of my navy-blue dress whispers against my bare skin with every step.
I push open the bedroom door and turn to face him, my pulse racing with a new power. Tonight I want control.
I want to take my husband apart the way he always does me.
“On the bed, Alexei,” I breathe, but there’s steel in my voice. I place both hands on his broad chest and shove him backward.
He lets me, a dark, amused glint in his eyes as he drops onto the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide. His gaze never leaves me. It’s hungry, possessive, and waiting to see what his wife will do.
“Stay there,” I command, stepping back just out of reach. My fingers find the hidden zipper at the side of my dress, and I drag it down slowly, deliberately, letting the navy fabric peel away from my body like a second skin.
The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but the black bustier that pushes my breasts up high and tight, my nipples already peaked and sensitive against the satin. I reach behind me, unhook the bustier, and let it fall away too. My breasts spill free, heavy and full, the cool air tightening my nipples even more.
Alexei’s jaw clenches. His hands fist the sheets, but he stays exactly where I put him. “Roza,” he growls, low and warning. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know,” I whisper, stepping closer. “And I’m going to win it tonight.”
I move between his spread thighs and start undressing him, slowly, like I’m unwrapping something precious that belongs only to me.
My fingers work the buttons of his crisp white shirt open one by one, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the dark Bratva tattoos that snake across his skin, the ridges of muscle that flex under my touch. I push the shirt off his broad shoulders and down his powerful arms, letting my palms glide over every inch of warm, scarred skin. He’s so big, so strong, and tonight he’s letting me lead.
Next come the dress pants. I unbuckle his belt, slide the zipper down, and tug the fabric over his hips. He lifts just enough to help me. When the slacks hit the floor, my breath catches.
