"I know that every resource I have is focused on locating her. I know that she can't hide forever, not in my city." His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. "And I know that I will do whatever it takes to keep you and our baby safe."
The certainty in his voice should comfort me. Instead, it reminds me exactly what "whatever it takes" means for a man like Aleksandr Romanov.
Danil appears from the front of the plane, his expression grim. "Boss, we have an update."
Aleksandr's entire body goes rigid. "What?"
"Katya liquidated three properties in the past week. Sold them for cash, well below market value. She also withdrew two million from various accounts." Danil drops into the seat across from us. "She's funding something big."
My stomach drops. "Two million dollars?"
"That buys a lot of loyalty," Aleksandr says quietly. "Or a lot of firepower."
The plane begins its descent, and I watch the city grow larger beneath us. Somewhere down there, a woman who wants Aleksandr dead is planning her next move. And I'm carrying his child, which makes me either the perfect leverage or the perfect target.
Possibly both.
The estate appears through the trees as we drive up the long driveway, and I've never been so grateful to see those high walls and security gates. Aleksandr helps me out of the SUV, his hand on my elbow, and I notice the way his eyes scan the grounds automatically. Always watching. Always calculating threats.
Inside, he guides me to his office where Ronnie waits with more files spread across the desk. The captain stands when we enter, his brown eyes moving between Aleksandr and me with barely concealed curiosity.
"Pakhan," he says. "We've compiled everything we have on Katya's movements over the past six months."
Aleksandr moves to the desk, and I follow, peering over his shoulder at the photographs and documents. My eyes catch on one image, Katya leaving a restaurant with a man I don'trecognize. She's smiling, her hand on his arm, and something about the casual intimacy of the gesture makes my skin crawl.
"Who's that?" I ask, pointing.
"Dmitri Volkov," Ronnie says. "Arms dealer. Specializes in untraceable weapons."
The implications settle over me like a wet blanket. "She's arming herself."
"Or arming others." Aleksandr's jaw tightens. "Ronnie, I want surveillance on every known associate of Katya's."
"Already done, Boss. We've got eyes on twelve people so far."
"Make it twenty." Aleksandr turns to me, and his expression shifts from cold calculation to something warmer. "You need rest. It's been a long day."
"I'm fine."
His hand finds the small of my back. "Humor me." He smiles as he escorts me away from his office, toward my room. He leans down and kisses me, slow and thorough, and for a moment I forget about Katya and threats and the danger closing in around us. There's just his mouth on mine, his hands on my body, and the heat building between us despite the exhaustion pulling at my bones.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. His gold eyes are dark with desire, and the way he's looking at me makes my core clench.
"To bed," he says, his voice rough. "Before I take you against this wall and scandalize the staff."
"Would that be so bad?"
His laugh is low and dangerous. "Tempting. But you need rest, and I have work to do."
For the first time, I notice the two guards already stationed in the hallway. Both nod respectfully as we pass.
Inside my room, he pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me. "I know you hate being restricted. I know this feels like a cage. But please, just for now, let me keep you safe."
I tilt my head back to look at him. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand."
"Thank you." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Get some sleep. I'll check on you later." He pauses and points to my nightstand. "By the way, Danil got a secured phone set up for you. You can call your parents whenever you'd like."
My stomach flips, not with nausea, but with excitement and dread at the same time. I can actually speak to my parents. After all this time. I'm anxious and impatient to talk to them, but worried about how they'll feel about how I lived during my exile and especially how I live now.
