He exhales slowly and drags a hand over his face. “You think I enjoy this? You think I enjoy being afraid you’ll get hurt because of me?” His gaze snaps back to mine. “I don’t. What I’d enjoy is coming home every night to see your beautiful face. What I’d enjoy is knowing you’re safe even when you’re not with me, because you’re the most important person in my fucking life.”
His confession catches me off guard. It’s not a love confession, but knowing he cares about me that much makes me forget my next argument. It makes me forget my anger and everything else except the serious look on his face.
I know for certain that he means every word he just said to me. I can feel the sincerity seeping through my skin and into my heart.
Every part of me softens. “Leonid—”
“No.” His voice remains calm, but there’s a gruffness beneath it. “You saw what happened at the mansion. What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten there in time? Do you think Vasili will stop at one assassination attempt?”
I immediately look away.
The images are still there if I let myself think about them—blood on marble floors, bodies sprawled across the foyer, the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air.
My stomach twists.
That night still haunts me. How could I ever forget the way my life flashed before my eyes when I saw the gun pointed at me and the hand ready to pull the trigger?
Showing weakness will only make Leonid more paranoid and protective, so instead of letting the vulnerability take over, I allow the rage burning inside me to surge forward.
“And what about me?” I demand. “Do I just spend the rest of my life hiding behind your guards? Looking over my shoulder every second of every day?”
His jaw tightens. Whatever softness there was in his eyes vanishes instantly. “If that keeps you breathing, then yes.”
I stare at him.
The conviction in his voice should terrify me. Instead, something else settles in my chest, something far more dangerous than Vasili’s assassination attempt, because for the first time I believe Leonid really isn’t saying it to control me. He’s saying it because he genuinely believes losing me would destroy him.
He’s trying to keep me safe because he cares about me.
The realization steals the rest of my anger.
The air feels heavier now, charged with tension, rage, defiance, and something deeper. It’s almost as if the argument transformed into something else while I wasn’t paying attention.
Leonid takes one last step toward me, and the space between us shrinks to nothing.
The evening breeze lifts a strand of my hair and carries it across my face. His eyes follow the movement before settling back on mine. Still, he doesn’t touch me, and the restraint feels deliberate, like he’s forcing himself not to touch me.
My pulse stumbles. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I mutter, my cheeks flushing from the way his piercing steel gray eyes peer into mine.
A faint smile touches one corner of his mouth. “Because you have no fucking idea how much you drive me crazy, ptichka.” His gaze drops briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes.
The glance is subtle, yet my entire body reacts to it as another wave of silence stretches between us, my heart pounding harder with every passing second.
I should step back. Put distance between us. Instead, I find myself moving until I’m pressed against him.
His expression changes instantly, a flash of hunger hiding quickly behind control. But he doesn’t make a move. He leaves it entirely up to me.
A rush of heat climbs up my neck and every instinct tells me to stop, but I don’t. Leonid and I have crossed this line several times before. There’s nothing to be afraid of, despite the voice in my head telling me all the reasons letting this go on is a terrible idea. But it’s not enough to stop me.
I reach for him and my fingers curl around the front of his jacket. The expensive fabric bunches beneath my hand and I forget how to breathe for a second as the entire world narrows to the space between us.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words leaving my lips before I can stop them. “I won’t do it again.”
And just like that, as if my apology unleashed whatever beast he’d caged inside himself, he grabs my ass and pulls me closer. His lips crash against mine, and he kisses me like a demon desperate to devour my soul.
It’s intense. Primal. And desperate.
His tongue thrusts into my mouth as he presses me against the wall.
