Heat flares in his gaze, and I feel an answering warmth low in my belly.
“All done,” I say, my voice breathier than I’d like.
“Thank you.” He stands as I scramble to my feet, and we’re suddenly very close.
I can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell his cologne mixed with something metallic.
Blood, probably.
“You should rest,” I tell him, taking a step back. “Those wounds need time to heal.”
“I can’t. I have calls to make. Security to arrange.” He moves to the dresser and pulls out a fresh shirt. I watch as he carefully pulls it on, wincing when the fabric brushes against his bandages.
“Security for what?”
He buttons the shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. “The attack last night wasn’t random. Someone’s making a move against me. I need to make sure this house is secure. That you’re safe.”
The last part catches me off guard. “Why do you care if I’m safe?”
He turns to look at me, and something in his expression makes my breath catch. “Because you’re mine to protect now. Whether you like it or not.”
Before I can respond, his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and glances at the screen, his expression hardening. “I need to take this.”
He answers in Russian, his voice sharp and commanding.
I don’t understand the words, but I understand the tone.
He’s angry.
Worried.
I take the opportunity to grab my dress and slip into the bathroom to change. When I emerge, he’s still on the phone, pacing the room despite his injuries. I catch the fragments of conversation that slip into English.
“Double the guards.”
“No one gets in or out without my approval.”
“I don’t care what it costs.”
I move to the window and stare out at the grounds.
The gardens look peaceful in the morning light, but I know better now.
This beautiful mansion is a fortress.
A prison.
And I’m trapped inside with a man I’m starting to care about despite every reason not to.
Mikhail ends the call and comes to stand beside me. We’re both silent, watching the guards patrol the perimeter.
“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” he says finally. “The people who attacked me last night, they know about you now. They’ll try to use you against me.”
His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “You’re good, Sophia. Better than me. Better than this world I’ve dragged you into.”
“Then let me go.” The plea escapes before I can stop it. “If you think I’m so good, let me leave.”
“I can’t.” His voice breaks on the words. “I need you. For revenge, for…I don’t know anymore. But I can’t let you go.”
