“She’s terrified of you,” Roman noted dryly.
“She’ll learn,” I said.
His lips curving into a small smirk, Roman disappeared into the shadows of the hall.
I took a breath, straightened my suit jacket, and stepped into the room.
The floorboard creaked, and Mila flinched as if I’d fired a shot. She looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Then she stood, wrapping the blanket more firmly around her body. I stood still as she approached me.
“Alexei,” she whispered, her voice thin. “What actually happened? What was the attack about?”
“Mila.” I sighed before gesturing towards the chair she’d stood from. She turned her neck towards the chair and faced me again. Then she went to the chair and sat.
I walked toward her, my movements slow and deliberate, the way one approaches a wounded animal. I sat in the armchair opposite her. “How are you feeling?”
She gave a hollow, hysterical little laugh. “I… I think I’m in shock. Anya said I’m safe, but… those men… they weren’t looking for Anya, were they?”
She’s even smarter than I guessed.
And stubborn.
“No,” I said. I saw no point in lying. In my world, lies were for the weak. “They are of the Italians. And they were looking for you.”
She paled, her hands tightening on the blanket. “Why? I don’t… I don’t know any Italians. I’ve never done anything to anyone.”
“It isn’t about what you did, Mila. It’s about who you are.”
I watched her process that. I saw the confusion, the dawning horror. I decided to give it to her all at once. The truth was a blade; it was better to strike fast.
“Your father, Lev Petrov, didn’t just disappear. He was a sniper. Worked with us for a while. One of the best. Years ago, he killed a man named Silvio Ancelloti. The man who ordered the hit today is Silvio’s boss, Enzo. He has spent ten years looking for a way to hurt your father. He couldn’t find Lev, so he found you.”
Mila shook her head, the blanket sliding off one shoulder. “No… I mean…he’s dead now. Why am I being dragged into all this?”
“Yes, but we’re talking about things that happened before he died. I have the files, Mila. I have the confession of the man who tried to put a bullet in your head today. Your father left you behind to save himself and eventually died, but he forgot that blood leaves a trail.”
She looked like she was going to be sick. “So, what happens now? Are you going to give me to them? Is that why I’m here?”
I felt a surge of that dark, possessive heat again. I stood up and crossed the small gap between us, kneeling in front of her. I reached out, my large hand covering her trembling ones. Her skin was ice-cold.
“No,” I said, my voice dropping to a low growl. “I don’t give away what belongs to me.”
She looked at me then, really looked at me. She saw the predator. She saw the man who often ordered death before breakfast. “What belongs to… what are you talking about?”
“The Morettis will not stop. They will hunt you to the ends of the earth. The association wants to shield you from harm…”
“You mean the Bratva?” she cut in.
I nodded.
“Then let me go,” she pleaded. “I’ll run. I’ll change my name.”
“They found you once. They will find you again. And next time, I won’t be there to pull you out of the line of fire.” I squeezed her hands, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel the reality of my strength. “There is only one way to keep you alive. One way to make you untouchable. You need a name that carries more weight than Petrov. You need a name that the Italians fear, at least more than they hate your father.”
Mila stared at me, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “Whatexactlyare you saying?”
I didn’t blink. I didn’t hesitate. I had made my choice the moment I saw her bloodied dress. I just didn’t know it.
“Marry me,” I said.
