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“Good night to you, too.”

I leave, practically fleeing. I quicken my pace when I reach the hallway, then slow down when I make it to the stairs.

Lev is up there. In the bedroom.

Seeing him is one thing, but lying next to him now is… I don’t know if I can do it.

But if I don’t, that’s just going to create more problems that I don’t need.

Breathe, Allegra, breathe. You can do this.

Mama comes to my mind. I signed that contract for her. For now, that’s the one sure thing I have. That and I suppose the fact that I’m still alive.

My family and I are still alive. So, Lev must be keeping us alive for the moment for some reason that benefits him.

That buys me some time.

On that thought, I will myself to keep going.

I reach the bedroom and find Lev inside.

Wearing nothing but his boxers and a towel draped over his shoulder, he looks like a god again. Like one of those marble gods in the Vatican museums. Except this one is a ruthless Pakhan covered in Bratva tattoos.

His eyes meet mine as I slip through the door and close it quietly behind me.

“Thought you’d be sleeping, printsessa.” He looks me up and down, and I remember I’m wearing a thin silk nightie that probably clings to me a little too much.

“I couldn’t sleep, but I’m tired now. Good night.” Avoiding his gaze, I march over to the bed and slip under the sheets.

I turn my back to him, hoping he’ll leave me alone.

Of course, he doesn’t.

He climbs onto the bed, and the mattress dips beside me. The next thing I feel beneath the sheet is his heavy hand resting on my belly.

My body goes as stiff as a board, and when his face suddenly appears next to mine, I don’t know how I’m still breathing.

“What do you want?” I hiss.

“Just checking on you, little mouse.”

“Stop calling me that.”

I try to keep my gaze on the wall ahead, but he turns me over, so that I’m facing him, and plants his hand right by my head so I’m blocked in. Just like a little mouse.

He’s too close. And too big. And I don’t… I don’t like what he does to my head. Or my body. It’s confusing and not right. The only things I should feel for him are repulsion and fear. Nothing more.

“What’s with you, malyshka?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

“I’m tired.”

He stares at me for a moment, then he lowers his head and places a kiss on my forehead. I’m glad when he moves away and leans over the other side to switch off the light.

He says nothing more. No taunts, no promises, or any of his little snappy remarks.

I’m good with that.

I’d rather we don’t speak.