“My mother was fairly quiet, much like you, and she loved me a lot. My father, on the other hand, was tough and loud and respected people who had strength. We grew up in a lot of poverty until both of them died, and it was just us siblings left. I was very young then, and even though Kliment was the oldest amongst us, he was young as well.”
“And you joined the bratva after that?”
“We didn’t join the bratva. Kliment had some contacts that he used to get some money for us, which we invested in our hotel business, but the money came from a bratva, and they became involved in the business as well. If we wanted to grow, we had no choice but to become a part of that world. So it happened naturally. I proved I was capable of that world, and here I am now.”
“You don’t need to prove yourself to me,” she said quietly. The words hit harder than they should have.
“I know,” I replied.
The realization crept in slowly. It was not sudden or explosive but steady. Watching her here, laughing, questioning, dancing without tension, I felt something shift permanently inside me. This wasn’t strategy or alliance or even leverage, but something much softer and infinitely more dangerous. I was falling for her, and it was not because she needed protection but because she was rare. Because she chose to be here tonight. Because she was curious. Because she laughed openly at something trivial, I whispered in her ear moments later. Because she didn’t pull away when I drew her closer.
The song ended, and quiet applause scattered lightly around the room. She looked up at me, eyes bright behind the mask.
“Was that your plan?” she asked.
“What?”
“To make me forget.”
“No, I wanted to remind you what being with me felt like before everything went to hell.”
Her breath caught slightly, but she didn’t step away, still clinging to me like I was the only thing that mattered. As I watched her eyes from behind the mask, I realized that for the very first time, the future I imagined did not revolve around power. Or territory. Or proving anything to Kliment. It revolved around her walking out of a room in silk and looking at me like she was choosing to stay.
Chapter 19 - Elisse
The entire drive home, I could still feel his hand on my waist. Even though he wasn’t touching me. Even though there were inches between us. The silence in the car wasn’t awkward, but it was volatile instead. Every glance felt like friction. Every shift of his thigh against mine sent heat spiraling up my spine. The night air, the music, the champagne, the way he had looked at me on the dance floor kept coming back to me.
I had made a mistake because I had enjoyed every second of it. And now the air between us felt like it was seconds from catching fire.
When the car stopped outside the penthouse building, I didn’t wait for him to come around and open the door. I pushed it open myself and stepped out, and I heard him exhale behind me. The elevator doors slid shut, leaving just the two of us between mirrored walls and dim lighting. His tuxedo was slightly rumpled from dancing, and my lipstick faintly smudged. We stood on opposite sides of the elevator, clearly trying to be as far from each other as possible because both of us could feel it. The ascent felt agonizingly slow. I turned to look at him and realized he was already staring at me.
“Fuck it,” he whispered, and within seconds, both of us moved towards one another, his lips crashing with mine.
The kiss that followed was neither patient nor romantic, but it was filled with desire. He bit my lip until I opened my mouth and allowed his tongue to delve deeper inside, exploring my mouth while I did the same to him. His hands were in my hair, holding and pulling while I held his neck as if it belonged to me.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, but he did not let me go. We walked inside the penthouse, and the doors shut behind us with a soft, decisive click. I pulled the mask off first, tossing it onto the console table, and he did the same, his handsome face before me. We stood facing each other across the living room, and silence stretched between us.
“You don’t get to look at me like that,” I said again, softer this time.
“And how am I looking at you?”
“Like you won.” My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
His hand came up slowly, giving me time to step back, but I didn’t. His movements were slower now, a little less frantic as he brushed a strand of hair away from my cheek. The touch was light. Too light that it burned.
“You can say no right now, and I will walk away.”
“I don’t want to,” I replied, much like the first night we had spent together in this penthouse. He had given me the choice to leave and step back again and again, but I had wanted him then. And I wanted him now. I wanted him so much it made me ache.
His eyes darkened at my reply, and that was all it took. I don’t know who moved first. Maybe we both did. But suddenly his mouth was on mine again, not gentle, not cautious, not restrained. Hungry. My hands fisted into the lapels of his tuxedo, dragging him closer. His fingers gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him. The kiss wasn’t slow or exploratory, but it was months of tension snapping all at once.
Teeth. Breath. Heat.
I shoved at his jacket, and he shrugged it off without breaking the kiss. It fell somewhere behind him. His hands slid down my back, finding bare skin beneath the silk of the dress. I arched instinctively at the contact.
“Fyodor,” I gasped against his mouth, and he answered by lifting me.
I didn’t protest. My legs wrapped around his waist automatically, dress riding higher as he carried me toward the wall, and my back hit cool marble. The contrast made me gasp, but I didn’t care. I was burning up already. His mouth left my lips and began to trail down my jaw and my throat, making me feel everything all at once. I was soaking wet for him, wanting nothing but his touch all over my body.
