Elena
The marina always feels different at night.
During the day, the docks are crowded with crew members, tourists, and yacht owners who somehow manage to turn every conversation into a discussion about money. But at night, the noise fades away. The water becomes calmer, the air cooler, and the constant hum of engines gives way to the soft rhythm of waves sighing against the hulls.
I sit on the upper deck of one of the charter yachts, a folder resting unopened in my lap. I finished the paperwork almost an hour ago, I’ve checked my emails twice, and even organized tomorrow’s schedule. Then I spent the last twenty minutes reviewing inventory I already reviewed this afternoon.
So far, none of it has helped with the way my thoughts keep circling back to the attack at the mansion, the dead bodies, and the way Leonid showed up at just the right time to save me.
Or the way his arm wrapped around my waist and hauled me into him. Because of me, he canceled his meeting and ran straight home without a second thought.
Maybe there’s a chance I’m not the only one of us feeling something beyond just physical attraction. Maybe Leonid feels it too, and maybe he…
I stop that thought before it can go any further, lean back against the cushioned bench, and groan.
This is pathetic.
Leonid’s not the kind of man who deals with emotions or love or anything even close. I need to stop feeding my delusions and accept this for what it is. He sees me as his possession, not a lover. I should’ve gotten used to that fact by now, but for some reason I’m struggling to accept that he feels nothingbeyond physical attraction for me. Men in the bratva are usually attracted to any woman they can get their hands on.
The thought of Leonid with another woman flashes through my head, and my chest constricts with jealously and rage.
I think I’m slowly losing my mind.
A month ago, my biggest concern was whether a client would complain about a delayed charter. Now I spend half my day thinking of the man I should hate, fantasizing about him fucking me and being jealous over a hypothetical woman.
I close my eyes and tip my head toward the sky. The stars are barely visible above the city lights, but they’re there, twinkling steadily and unaffected by the chaotic mess in my head.
For a few precious moments, I let myself enjoy the silence.
Then a familiar scent of cedar, expensive cologne, and possessive male pheromones drifts through the air. I could recognize that scent even if I were dead.
My eyes snap open to find Leonid standing at the opposite end of the deck. I have absolutely no idea how long he’s been there, which is disturbing.
The man is six-foot-something and built like a tank. He shouldn’t be capable of sneaking up on anyone, yet he manages to catch me off guard every single time.
Clutching my chest, I furrow my brows and glare at him. “Jesus, Leo. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
His gaze sweeps across me, lingering on my body just long enough to make me self-conscious before returning to my face. “What are you doing here?”
I blink. “Well, good evening to you too, husband.”
His expression doesn’t change, but the muscles in his jaw tighten slightly. “What the hell are you doing here, Elena, and without any guards?”
Something about his tone immediately puts me on edge. His voice is laced with something that sounds incredibly close to panic…or fear. Both are disguised with his usual control, but I can feel the genuine concern rolling off him.
He was truly worried for me.
I set the folder aside. “I was bored and decided to get some work off my schedule for tomorrow.”
“And you decided to do that at ten o’clock, without telling anyone where the hell you were going?”
I glance at my watch. Shit, it’s almost thirty minutes past ten. I drove to the marina about three hours ago thinking I’d just check in on the inventories, reply to my emails, and head straight back home.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I lost track of time.”
His eyes narrow. My apology doesn’t seem to have done much to quell his anger. “Where the hell is your phone? I called several times and you didn’t answer.”
I reach for my purse, rummage through it, and immediately find the problem. My phone’s battery is dead.
